Day Eight

Up earlier this morning. My best shot at beaking my listless sleeping cycle. ‘Early to bed, early to rise…’ Ben was right.

Much better. Got behind the computer and began typing about 7:30am. I finished the scene. A rough start/middle/fini, mostly dialogue. Puppet and puppeteer, Malcolm is now in the boat, flopping. Amber figured a way to get him sexually juiced without too much trouble. His hands were all over her bare legs, ice packs, messaging, after she faked a twisted ankle. Malcolm, to the rescue, sweating, face all-a-glow, lost in the moment. Pulling the strings tighter and tighter. Should take one more scene before she gets down to asking him.

He won’t like it but he’ll say yes. Sex vs. Sanity? Come on. Saying yes, of course, create more conflict. For Malcolm, keeping quite in hopes of getting further up Amber’s leg. Amber can’t wait to tell the boss, Mr. Gross, “You’ll never guess who is on the web, naked!” Conflict for Emily, what’s her take? She knows, she’s in a fix, once on the www., it’s impossible to erase it completely. How will Glasgow respond, his sweetie is in some bad dooty. And for Malcolm, will he get his fun ending? Stay tuned.

For the rest this afternoon, (after lunch, of course) I’ll rewrite the restaurant scene. Concentrate on the dialogue. Malcolm, as he consumes more wine, his choice of words, diction, emotions, will all deteriorate. Also I have to map out the scene where Amber actually asks Malcolm and his initial response. That’s next. This whole plot line should be in maybe 5 parts, in-between the story's other action.

So the afternoon is planed. If you have any suggestions for snagging more readers for our blog, other than paying everyone who comments $10 ( $20?), please, comment. A larger readership would be nice.

So until tomorrow

Cornelius Butterfield