I for Inklings

So I was interviewed on the news last night, tweaking The City of Windsor, my dastardly arch nemesis. ZING! I carved a great I for Inklings upon the villain's chest with my rapier wit.

Okay, I didn't actually see the interview, so I may have actually looked like a doofus. And sounded worse. Though I refuse to admit that I was bested by The City of Windsor!

But the interesting thing was really doing the interview. I actually found myself analyzing how I talked even as I did it. It was a little odd... a little meta-narrative running through my head, critiquing and planning even as I spoke. A little bit out-of-body, if you know what I mean. I found myself thinking about word choice and sentence structure, about the rhythm of the language. Almost like writing dialogue... what would this character say? What's the best way to convey the mood?

Except, you know, the character was me. Standing in front of a camera. So... rapier wit? Or doofus? I'm not sure I want to know. But it was interesting from a writer's standpoint, a sort of self-conscious understanding of my own speech in progress.

Makes me think about times when real life and the writing life bleed together. We have odd brains, we writers. Has that ever happened to you? Where the writer in you has superimposed itself over the normal you? That is, if there is such a thing as a writing you and a real you... WhoooOOOoooOOOooo... WhoooOOOoooOOOooo...

(Halloween is coming, you know. Sound effects are needed)

The Cement Boot

The City of Windsor today stuck a woman in wet cement up to the calf. Nefarious, I say. I think it's a warning... This Could Happen To You, Inklings Bookshop. Be Warned. We Bury People Alive. In Cement. And When We Accidentally Collapse the City into the Detroit River, Cement Will Sink...

Luckily, however, I know the City of Windsor, and thus know that due to some Engineering Error the City of Windsor will likely be forced to tear up any cement they lay down, freeing everyone from imprisonment. Apparently newly laid cement is irresistable to City of Windsor steam shovels. It's hard and tar-like surface is, apparently, much akin to toffee.

Oh, Shit is a Low Blow Even For You, City of Windsor

Okay, the City of Windsor just had a waste truck outside my store. A waste truck pumping (or dispersing?) shit. Through a big tube. A big leaky tube. And to prevent this from getting all over the sidewalk (the brand new sidewalk) the City of Windsor worker used a giant wooden board to deflect most of the shit. And then he left the giant wooden plank in the middle of the sidewalk. Covered in shit. And then he drove off. With the board still on the sidewalk. Did I mention it was covered in shit? Yes, shit.

That is a low blow, a dictionary definition case.

So... Inklings Bookshop is now officially at war with the City of Windsor. It will be a short war. Since, well, I'm closing. But also because I'm going to win! Ha ha! Once the City of Windsor fully subsumes the downtown core beneath the Detroit River I'm going to rally the mer-people and revolt. The City of Windsor won't be laughing so smugly with large tridents sticking out of their chests. "How's that for a public service!" ZHAM! (Notice the wonderful sound effects. I bet you didn't know giant tridents made that sound, but they do.) ZHAM! (See?)