Shrunken men and shoes

Sigh.
Sigh.

Today is the last day of November, and for many thousands of people, the last day they get to upload a word count at NaNoWriMo.org. As I mentioned before, this year I didn’t have the time to write 50,000 words, but I’ve been thinking about it and missing the thrill. The above is my word count chart as it looked exactly a year ago.

My story came along very nicely. It was (still is) mostly story and almost no padding, with loads of description and dialogue and almost no annoying weather-related similes or metaphors of which I’m terribly fond, but can get as tired as a late summer drizzle… that’s tired.

I like my story. It’s about a group of women that gather to relate something in common, something they share with a very naughty man that did a really bad thing to them. As they tell their stories something happens to him. He’s with them, listening to each woman’s account, as is his mother, a very powerful woman looking for something. Each of their experiences came from various ideas I had and notes I made long ago for short stories, and even a dream, all adapted to suit my writing needs.

Speaking of needs, here’s one of them, very intense, strong, powerful like a late summer storm… sort of need.

Hes right where he belongs.
He’s right where he belongs.

No, I’m talking about the shoes. I was looking for violet shoes as it is my wont to do from time to time, and I saw these on the first Google page that popped up on my screen. It was love at first sight. Oh, how I stare and drool at them! The brand is L’Autre Chose, and the price is over $200.00, so I’ll have to wait until nothing more pressing needs pecuniary attention (40-50 years), and then you bet I’ll make them mine.

Until then, I’ll picture my little guy in them, visiting, playing, slipping through that toe-peeping space, exploring, writing his name on the sole, and finally falling asleep on the soft material in the toe section so I’ll find him there, spot him just as I’m about to step into them. Of course I pretend I don’t see him, and get a very giant kick out of feeling his little hands push against my slowly descending foot as he chirps out, “No! You silly giantess! Can’t you see I’m down here?”

And of course I say, “Why, no, Little One! I certainly did not see you down there! How could I, when you are so little, tiny, small, hard to see?”

And then he gives me one of his red-cheeked, outraged looks I love to imagine.

I think I’ll find a way to put these shoes in my story when I get around to editing it.

Hell pay for what hes done to that high heel shoe wont he
He’ll pay for what he’s done to that high-heel shoe. Probably.

2007 was my third year doing NaNoWriMo, and in previous years I had a few ideas on what to write. Last year I only had one in the beginning, but it’s one I loved. The title is “All About Steve”, inspired by the collage above.

I started collecting the elements for it over two years ago, and in the beginning it was only going to be a tiny-man-and-giant-shoe image. I worked on it, finishing it rather quickly, since I only had to add the man to the shoe image. I sat in front of my computer a year ago, looking at it, thinking about the few shadows I needed to add, when I felt that thing… that tingly something in the back on my mind that tells me An Idea is about to arrive within the next few seconds, and then, POW! I saw him, his life, all about him.

I thank Bette Davis’ movie for the story title, but that’s where any vague similarity ends. I went looking for a weapon he could use, and knew exactly the one I was going to give him, and I gave him a target painted on the heel of that giant shoe. A blasphemy, heinous sacrilege for a shoe lover like me, but there’s a point to the abomination.

In the end I didn’t write anything about Steve, and saved his story for this year’s novel, which I didn’t write. I’m still planning on doing it, and I can also mention that the rifle he’s holding is a wonderful, tempting, luscious bolt-action Mosin-Nagant 91-30 sniper rifle, the kind that makes weapon collectors and lovers drool. That rifle both places Steve in great danger, and saves his life.

If his rifle seems too long, there’s a reason behind that. I also gave him a scar as I was finalizing the image. I still don’t know how he got it.

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2 thoughts on “Shrunken men and shoes

  1. If I ever finish All About Steve I will post a link to the document right here. Thanks for asking, Anonymous. 🙂

    Like

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