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Showing posts from August 23, 2012

cop[8]

Administrivia: Will come back around and write up the outline/story board. The tough part will be finding James' voice, since I don't really know him that well - although I have some examples to guide me; it's hard to put myself in the head of someone who doesn't equivocate every decision and just "reacts" morally. This is the last Mike vignette until I get the housecleaning done on this story, but it came to me in the shower so I had to put it down. Mike moved into a Victorian walk-up in late summer of 1997 on Lucky Street. The alleys between the major streets lined up: Balmy. Lucky. Treat. Balmy lucky treat. August in San Francisco was anything but. Mike was taking over Javier's room: a pantry with a painted concrete floor, the kind of room where you might keep a washer and a dryer, or store dry goods. There was no door, only a curtain that had been strung across the archway haphazardly. Mike had arrived at night on the train with his only two