This is lame. I opened my August 2009 file to save it for 2010 and write a new post. My topic: autumn is coming; I’m looking forward to my getaways with R., what I think about London in the fall. And guess what the first post was – a big, fat commentary on things I like about London in the fall.
Christ, I am even more on the hamster wheel than I thought. The only things that change in my life are watching my kids grow up and seeing my body degenerate. Even the things I’m looking forward to this fall are the same old shit I’ve already done. Argh!!
Anyway.
Navigating the 16th Street Mall after my daily, lunchtime trip to the gym, head bent so as not to have to see all the unpleasantness that is that lovely downtown thoroughfare, I thought for the fourteen jillionth time that my bestselling novel ain’t going to write itself. As always, however, I have no character, no plot, no location. That makes writing a little tough.
Today’s incarnation – a London girl moves to Denver (why? Who the f*** knows) and has misadventures with all the outdoorsy types here. Then what – she marries one and moves to the mountains? Where she learns to live without her Kiehl’s and hangs their Patagonia undergarments on a clothesline to dry? Yawn.
“Oh, dear lord,” thought Lucy, as one ski, then the other, started to slip across the snow. “What am I doing!?”
Tom grinned, his big, American teeth as blinding as the expanse of snow around them. “You’ll be great, Lucy. I’ll meet you at the Pub in a few hours, when my race is over. Bye!”
Lucy smiled uncertainly, cheered only slightly by the thought of an après cocktail or three. This “relationship” with Tom was leaving a lot to be desired.
How’s that for a rip-roaring scene? Of course, it is based on an episode from my own sad life, apart from being British, natch. Colorado is notorious for providing safe harbor to emotionally challenged, physically blessed specimens of manhood – guys who live solely to fund their own athletic, outdoor lifestyles. If you want to come along for the ride, great; they really could not care less. The delicate curves of their bicycles or skis provide more romance for them than you ever could.
4 comments:
I had 2 bad experiences with men from Denver.... the first, a man who looked like Alec Baldwin (before he porked out) but was homo non erectus, or, as I like to call him, Limp Dick. Such a waste. The second, a blind date, actually said to me "Did you ever notice that all the beautiful women are stupid????" So I will stick to the East Coast, thanks so much, no more outdoorsy guys for me...
Aptly described from my experience. With those kind of dudes, you will always come in a distant second to Mother Nature, the outdoor sport du jour, and some variety of jam band.
I love the premise, go with it!
don't give up--isn't it true you have to write crap before you get to the good stuff? I think you have it in you! believe!
I think you should include my college roomate as a character. She's beautiful, petite, brilliant (an anethesiologist) and could kick the sports butt of any of those Denver men. Climbs, skis, you name it. Really, she would be frightening is she weren't so nice.
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