The story I was working on for Project X is finally out in rough draft form. The ending went down so exactly how I hoped it would that I literally typed the last period and said “Yes!” like some kind of golfer! When the Butcher got home, I told him all about it and he was like “Oh, so it’s like Silver Bullet, where the priest is the werewolf.”
Ugh.
Yes.
Yes, it is. But in my defense, if you’re going to be a priest in a supernatural story, a hazard of the job is that bad supernatural shit is going to happen to you. You don’t have a lot of airline pilots killed in mining accidents. Not a lot of ministers get shot arresting criminals. So, when things go wrong supernaturally, who’s likely to be there doing his job to have it go wrong in his direction? And priests more so than most clergy because you know who I don’t trust to cast my werewolf out of me? A Protestant.
At least demon-possessed people exorcised by Catholic priests get to puke up pea soup, which, while unpleasant, is a liquid. It’s a little known, but true fact that Protestant-attracting demons force you to throw up casseroles. That’s not going to come up easy. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s considered this.
I’m just saying it’s an homage to Silver Bullet, even though my story takes place before silver bullets were the only way to kill a werewolf.
I’ve also started reading Carole Maso’s Break Every Rule: Essays on Language, Longing, and Moments of Desire which is not very long, but requires a kind of slow, thoughtful reading that means it takes a while. But it’s really cool to read her meditations on living in Normal.
I always knew I wanted to write, but had I given better thought to how one develops a life as a writer, I should have gone to Illinois State. So much talent right down the street.
And yet, obviously, the people I met at Wesleyan changed my life in ways I would not trade for anything. Still, it’s funny to think that all that was going on right over there and I was, except for rolling my eyes at all the people in love with David Foster Wallace and them sitting in on his classes, almost completely oblivious.
It takes me a long time to get thing, sometimes. I guess that’s all I can say about that.
Tiny Cat Pants 