Yup; this is how I feel right now…
…because my novel is laughing hysterically at me…
ARGH! Today my word count – although I’m still doing well, considering – is the result of me looking at a bunch of clever, witty, & hilarious lines, and creating scenes to evolve around them.
I told you.
So I’m racking my brains and desperately pounding my fingers on the keyboard in the hopes of punching out something worth reading, whilst ideas for all my OTHER books race around and have parties in my head.
I will survive! And yes, I’m still having fun. It’s just a different KIND of fun. *wink* At least my character Jasper Aleron is co-operating.
He’s nasty. He’s the kind of villain you love to hate. His theme is “Do what you love, love what you do” – which, in his case, is – er, mainly cause mayhem and death and destruction. But he’s a blast to write.
Here’s a little Jasper
chaos fun, for your enjoyment. WARNING: If you are related to me (my sisters Riah and Melanie as the only exceptions) do NOT read! I’m very picky about this! You will only read the FINISHED version!! ^_^ Thank you.
“I’ve heard people say ‘life is a fairytale’ before.” Jasper was sitting comfortably on the floor, Indian-style, examining the utensils in his case. He liked his victims to rest a little between each go. That way they were more ‘up’ for the next round, he thought. “But the first thing you should know is this”- he held up a finger and looked at them each in turn “-everyone dies. Everyone has pain. There is no happy ending, no happily ever after. There is only pain, and then death.” A slow, self-satisfied smile spread across his face. “And I am the doctor of pain; the Angel of Death.”
He stood up, arching his back to release the cramp that was plaguing it. Bending over as much as he had over the last hour took its toll. “Any questions before round two?” He looked at Reese, an expression of deep sympathy on his face. “No, pretty one?” He turned on his heel and faced Simon. “How about you?”
“Why do you do it?” he asked, his voice calm, quiet.
Jasper raised an eyebrow. “What ‘it’ do you refer to?”
“This. All the killing and death and pain. What motivation do you have?”
Jasper’s expression melted into one of apologetic remorse before splitting back into a bright smile. He rotated his shoulders inside his Westwood tuxedo and smiled. “Sometimes, my friend, ‘for the el-oh-els’ is a perfectly valid reason.”
Reese’s voice, quiet and shaking, spoke up. “How can you stand to be so evil?” she whispered.
Jasper’s mouth formed an astonished ‘O.’ “Evil?” he exclaimed, pointing toward himself in a ‘me?’ gesture. “I’m not evil! I’m a realist. Which, come to think of it, is so much scarier, isn’t it? After all, what does it say about the world we live in?”
Simon rolled his eyes. The man was insane. That was all there was too it; no other explanation available.
A loud gasp made him bring his eyes back to Jasper, who pointed at him. “I saw what you did there!”
Simon looked at him incredulously. “What? I rolled my eyes!”
“I know, I know. But why did you roll your eyes?” Jasper strolled forward a few feet, his hands in his pockets. “Did I say something funny?”
Simon let out a breath something like a laugh. “If you ask me, your philosophy of life is pretty stupid.”
“Is it?” Jasper pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Well, it’s hard to avoid stupidity when the world is practically breeding it.”
“And you think you’re above us, do you?” Simon asked. All he wanted was to keep Jasper away from Reese for as long as he could.
Jasper shrugged and smiled as if he had just been told the happiest thing in the world. “Isn’t it obvious? I mean…” he bent down nearer to Simon and lowered his voice. “I’m not the one tied to the chair.”
“You’re the one murdering people,” said Simon quietly.
“Murderer? I don’t like the word.” Jasper frowned, then placed a hand on his chest like an opera singer. “I prefer to think of myself as… a mortality technician.” He grinned down at Simon. “Do you like it?”
“You’re still murdering.” Simon’s eyes were hard. “Murder’s generally frowned on in society these days.”
Jasper gave a short giggle, but somehow it still managed to sound ominous. “You’d be surprised.”
“It must be nice, having no conscience,” Simon remarked. He did not even allow his eyes to flick over to Reese. Her skin was the unhealthy color of ash, and her breathing was shallow.
Jasper pretended to look offended. “Of course I have a conscience!” He smiled dreamily up at the concrete ceiling. “It’s in a little silver box in the back of my closet, screaming ‘let me out! Let me out! You’re making bad choices!’” His voice dropped from falsetto and he gave Simon a devil-may-care grin. “Bad choices are more fun, though.”
Simon barked a laugh. “Fun.”
“Yes. You know, this is truly a tragic situation, isn’t it? If by ‘tragic’ you mean very, very funny.” Jasper’s laugh was sharp and almost hysterical. His laughter cut abruptly short and he turned to face Reese. He stood for a moment, looking back and forth between them, before finally announcing “Alright. After much wrangling with my aforementioned conscience – and by ‘wrangling’ I mean ‘ignoring’ and by ‘much’ I mean ‘none at all’ – I have decided to give you both an easy way out.”
He pulled a gun from his jacket and pressed the barrel against Reese’s head with an amiable smile in Simon’s direction. “I’ll just kill her. Sound good?”
How I Feel