05 January 2012

Don't You Hate it When . . .

Well, two things really.

First, I hate it when I tell someone about a new idea that I'm thinking about using in a story and they go, “That's just like (fill in blank)” . . . I have no idea where the period should go there, sorry.

Second, I hate it when a cold that I thought was on the out comes back around with a vengeance.

These two things don't relate, except for the fact that right now I hate them both. Well, I'd probably loathe them no matter when or where I encountered them, together or separately. Pretty much they must consider themselves my enemies.

Let's go back to the first, shall we?

I have this idea for a short story. It's twisted, a little bit sick and very much not my style. In the end it could practically be a literary *hack* piece. I've never harbored the need to write the next great American novel. Anything I write is meant to entertain people.

But this would be different. It would have *gasp* deeper meanings. Layers. Like an onion and all that.

It's a good idea. Which is the only reason I want to write it.

So I tell my sister and our hairdresser about it the other day, and they're both like, “Oh, that sounds just like . . .”

Drat. Really? I supposed from what I know about the . . . story that it is similar. Which means I now have to go read . . . so my story will be different. Lucky for me the library has it on CD. Good to know, but it hurts the ego to know my idea isn't as original as I thought. Everyone let out a dramatic sigh with me.

Second-the cold.

Dumb virus. I had a bad sore throat last Friday, so I proceeded to drown it with as much liquid as I could drink. Got lots of sleep and felt almost all better on Saturday. Well, I didn't get much sleep on New Year's eve, or the next night or the night after that. Mostly due to the lingering effects of the cold. Last night I finally bought some night-time cold meds and slept like a baby. Because I used the meds, not because I bought them.

This morning I wake up, feeling better, but with a distinct lack of voice. And I don't mean character voice in a story. No, no. When I do get a word or two out I sound like a man. A really big, throaty man. “Hey baby.”

Oh darn, I shouldn't make myself laugh—it riles up the cough.

I dub it the ninja cold. If only whacking it with a bow staff would make me feel better.

9 comments:

Anthony Dutson said...

Ahh... but its good when you make me laugh. Oddly enough I saw you in the whole Austin Powers get-up saying, "Hey Baby."

The snort was not me...

Jordan said...

I don't even have words for Tony's comment... *shakes head*

Antiquarian said...

Who cares if "it's just like" and I wouldn't go read/listen to the other not BEFORE you've written yours!!!!

All stories are retelling. Honestly, I had a myth teacher in college say, "Before Jaba the Hut there was Grendel's mother." For crying out loud the story I just read was a Christ story that started out as an espionage who done it. *laugh* Read Campbell you'll see.

Write your idea without the other "similar" story rising up in your mind every time you try to work on it.

As to the cold...sorry...take drugs and hope for the best.

-Jo- said...

Tony, you scare me sometimes . . .

Jared and Lisa said...

Hope you're feeling better now. :) As long as you enjoy telling your story, no matter if it reminds others of..... Perhaps they just like making connections, even if there are vague similarities, I bet yours would be better. (do I get a brownie now? J/K)

Farfegnugen said...

I hate it when people say that about my writing, too. Usually, I'm like, "What? Where is the resemblance?" Get better. See your face Friday.

-Jo- said...

Yes, the Jared/Lisa collective gets one brownie point!

Antiquarian said...

There are brownies!? *snigger*

-Jo- said...

Not anymore!
Yours are better anyway.