Geek and sundry on the island of Guam
My spousal unit and I are sitting in our good old Toyota Echo waiting to turn into THE WORLD’S LARGEST KMART ( all caps because that’s how I hear it in my head — a big, booming voice with echoey reverb, like the monster truck rally announcer ). I’m explaining why the story I’m writing isn’t really genre SF&F or at least not enough and the realities of sending “quirky” stuff to genre magazines where it will be rejected for not having enough SF or F or to “real” magazines where it will be too weird.
“Rejections all around,” I exclaim, emphasizing the agony that must accompany this rejection with hands contorted into claws thrown up in front of me.
“Well what if you just took the quirky bits out?”
“Like, what if I just took the meaty bits out of a turkey?” I’m deep into my diatribe about the integrity of the writing, the ethics of the idea, blah, blah, baloney and tofurkey all around when he grips the wheel hard and looks around.
“Wait. What was that?”
I stop and peer into the side mirror, sure that this is the moment from [ Insert Summer Blockbuster Here ] where a velociraptor or tsunami or giant animated robot shows up and begins mowing down citizens.
My husband starts laughing. “It’s just you, I thought something was wrong with the car, but it was just you rocking it.” He’s laughing really hard now.
“Oh,” I’m a little disappointed that I don’t get to see a velociraptor, actually, “yeah, well it’s a little car you know?” He’s laughing harder.
So, how do you know when you’ve had too much coffee? When your over caffeinated conversational gesticulations are causing the car you are sitting in to rock back and forth, making your husband wonder if you are experiencing some kind of mechanical malfunction. That’s how.