March 1, 2010
I took one of the usable portions of this story (About 1100 words) and posted it as a standalone story on my website. Every so often I cannibalize a failed idea like this. This particular idea is three years old and I know that I will not go to go back to it. I'm only posting this to keep track.
August 2007
New idea: A CIA Spy is captured in china. They convert him into a living plastinated statue as punishment.
This idea didn't pan out: Frat boys try to create a display piece but instead convert the body of a friend into silicone rubber. It's like those dissected bodies you see in museums.
5 comments:
Silicone – started June 24, 2006
It's an experiment in voice and style. I get about 50 words an hour even spewing this onto the page it is slow work.
The protagonist is not going to be a nice character. He's going to be hard and mean. He's a college kid who has been tricked into being the statue. The two “supposed” friends who did it, didn't know what they were doing and screwed it all up. Then they hid him away in a crate for years. Now after someone finds him and releases him, he has to explain his existence and learn to trust again.
Silicone Plastination of human bodies is done for museum exhibits. It involves removing fluids from a body with acetone, dissolution of the fat with acetone, forced impregnation with liquid silicone and finally gas hardening or heat curing to make immobile.
From a few time periods ago:
SILICONE
Frat boys try to create a display piece but instead convert the body of a friend into silicone rubber. It's like those dissected bodies you see in museums.
I had this stunning idea to open the story months after the silicone conversion and write the transformation as a ffirst person flashback.
What a silly thought that was.
After months of writing block, I deleted the entire first part and (guess what), the story began to write itself. Here's the opening as it now reads:
“I have to tell you Heath, you smell like wisteria and lilies. It’s a much more inviting smell than your usual stench of sweaty jockstrap.” Emilio sniffed the air in mock dreaminess.
“It’s my sister. She got into one of those buying clubs and unloaded a ton of personal hygiene products on me.”
“That’s a new personal best, isn’t it? Like, there’s so much perfume in these products, it’s down right intoxicating. Why, your sneakers smell like you walked through Phipps Flower Conservatory on misty morning in early spring.” Santiago said.
“Do you mean the wild-apple scent from the urinal cakes or the rotting compost in the flower beds?”
“Aw guys, give me a break.”
Your hair smells of orange blossoms, your breath of mint, your underarms of lavender, your feet of apricot, and…” Emilio didn’t finish.
“…your butt still stinks.” Santiago interrupted. Heath didn’t laugh. He slumped on the corner of his bed and posed like Rodin’s Thinker
Here's the new opening lines in very rough draft
"Yankee dog. We know you’re a spy. You will tell us the truth." Chow Chin Hu
"So you sink back to the old insults when you won't admit you're wrong,"
"Stubborn ass. Your sentence is to serve the people for fifty years.
"I'll never serve a bunch of commie pigs.
"Grayson Donald Stratford, your deed have been judged and punishment decreed. We will now carry out that ruling.
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