“So, it’s that time of year again,” says my muse through a fog of cigar smoke and with cheap Pabst heavy on his breath. “What are you going to fail to finish this year?”
I don’t like the tone of my muse’s voice, or the various odors issuing from his maw, and I could do without the stained wifebeater and torn sweatpants he’s sporting. “You’ve got a lot of nerve talking like that,” I riposte. “I’m beginning to regret ripping you off as a concept from Stephen King.”
“The process of ripping off, be it from On Writing or your own blog posts from last year, is irreversible,” my muse replies, punctuating the remarks with a throaty belch. “Ripping off is like heat transfer, it only goes one way until the eventual, and inevitable, Ripoff Death of the Universe. Now answer the question.”
I sigh. “A western,” I say. “I’m going to try writing a western. A heady tale of humor and betrayal, gunslinger grrls and black-hatted villainesses.”
“A western?” chortles my muse, frabjously. “Well callooh-callay, aren’t we fancy this time around. Who the hell writes westerns anymore? The genre’s been dead as a doornail since the Sputnik launch.”
“It’s a genre I’ve never tried before,” I reply, more than a little defensiveness in my voice. “Would you rather I wrote a Harlequin romance?”
“At least then you’d have an excuse for female characters all over the place,” my muse snorts. “They didn’t have female cowboys there, hoss. I mean, that’s encoded right there in the name cow-BOY.”
“I’ll think up an explanation,” I shoot back. “And the western isn’t all about historical accuracy. Sergio Leone had a gun from 1889 in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, and that was set in 1862.”
“And when you have the track record with westerns that he has, maybe you’ll get away with it. Maybe. But if you want to cough up an unfinished western when the genre is deader than Louis L’Amour, don’t let me stop you.”
“I’m going to finish this year, too,” I say. “NaNoFiMo, National Novel Finishing Month. Set in stone.”
“Just like the last 5 novels?” My muse laughs. “Or the one you actually did finish…six months later? Or the only one you finished by November 30, by undoing all your contractions at 11:50pm, but refuse to speak of?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t refuse to speak of it, I just openly admit that it was dog crap. That’s what happens when you try to expand a 1000-word story by 50 times. Now are you with me or not?”
“Fine, fine.” My muse opens a fresh can of rotgut and clips the head off a fresh cigar. “We’ll see who was right in 30 days on the dot. Happy National Novel Writing Month, my rootin’, tootin’ friend. Good luck–you’ll need it.”
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 
October 2, 2013
From “When Pastimes Collide” by Jacelyn “Bali Mojo” Marina
Posted by alexp01 under Blog Chain | Tags: Chicago Bears, Chicago Cubs, commentary, Detroit Lions, Detroit Tigers, endzone, fiction, football, humor, nfl, sports, story |[8] Comments
This post is part of the October 2013 Blog Chain at Absolute Write. This month’s prompt is “Lions, tigers, and bears, oh my.”
PLAY-BY-PLAY: And we’re back with the Detroit Lions versus the Chicago Bears. 4th quarter, 0-0, and just coming off a Meyersby flummox by the Bears that Oscar Earle stopped for the Lions using the Thatch Weave.
COLOR: You just made that up, didn’t you?
PLAY-BY-PLAY: True enough, Carl, true enough. But it’s not like anyone actually listens to our chatter, we’re just a part of the background noise like the roaring fans and the commercials for products aimed at males 18-35. And if we can’t embrace that, own that, and have some fun with it, ours is a hollow existence devoid of meaning–a meaningless howling into the infinite void, if you will.
COLOR: Fair enough, Tom. Looks like Earle is up for the snap on our next play, third down.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Yes, the Detroit Lions are going all out with this one. They’ve got Earle with Tennison on his right, but the Chicago Bears are countering with Masterson in the center. They both want this bad.
COLOR: Yes, it’s a knock-down, drag-out fight this one, because the loser in this case will be at the very bottom of the NFL rankings not only for this season but for all time. Statistically speaking a very tough black mark to shake, and neither the Lions nor the Bears want to replace the 1924 Birmingham Klansmen in the NFL museum’s “Hall of Shame” for worst record in the history of the sport since organized competition began on November 6, 1869.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: There’s the snap, and…it’s bad! The Lions fumble, and the Bears’ Masterson has got the ball! He’s…yes, he’s out and clear, on the Lions’ thirty and closing in on a touchdown!
COLOR: Not looking good for Detroit and the Lions, Tom. Given the staggering incompetence demonstrated by both teams at the sport in general and this game in particular, it’s unlikely that the Motor City will be able to recover. This will be yet another tough body blow for a city currently suffering from bankruptcy, organized and disorganized crime, corruption on a biblical scale, and relentless nightly assaults by zombies who cannot be killed as they are on the city’s payroll and vote regularly for alderman thanks to a legal loophole.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Masterson’s on the twenty, on the ten…Masterson is down! Yes, Masterson is down just short of the Lions’ endzone! A player wearing a grey uniform, no pads, and a ballcap has appeared on the field, and…yes, he put Masterson down using what appears to be a baseball bat!
COLOR: That’s right, Tom. Dozens of players, all armed with bats, are surging onto the field from the Detroit locker room. From the stylized “D” on their caps and the leaping orange felid on their jerseys, I can only assume…yes, we’re getting confirmation from the field! The Detroit Tigers have joined the game on the side of the Lions, and it has degenerated into a general melee!
PLAY-BY-PLAY: Yes, Carl, the Bears that were guarding Masterson have themselves been pummeled into submission, their pads, helmets, and indeed cups being no match for skillfully wielded aluminum bats in the hands of anabolic-steroid-blasting meatslabs. The Tigers are forming up, and…yes, they have just awkwardly punted the ball back to the Lions with those selfsame bats. Carl, your thoughts on this sudden and almost certainly illegal play?
COLOR: Nothing against it in the rules, Tom, and I know those backwards and forwards as they’re the only reading material we’re allowed during the 27 hours of pregame coverage. It looks like the Detroit Tigers have come to the aid of their fellow Motor City players, being as upset at the idea of having a worst-ever team in their city as anyone. And, being no good at baseball, they seem to have found their niche–the Tigers, for those who only pay attention to good teams, being in little danger of slipping to historic last place themselves thanks to the continued existence of the Chicago Cubs.
PLAY-BY-PLAY: The Bears are fighting back as best they can, Carl, even emptying their benches, but with the Cubs nowhere in sight, they are being massacred, literally and figuratively, by the combined Lion/Tiger assault. The refs are not stopping this, Carl, they are not stopping this. The Detroit ref has actually joined the assault–that’s him strangling Zaford with his whistle–and it appears that the Chicago ref has fled the field out of fear for his personal safety. It’s a confused melee out there, but one definitely trending in the direction of the Chicago endzone and eternal infamy for all participants in this debacle, surely the death knell of professional sports in every city and franchise involved. Carl, your thoughts?
COLOR: Lions, Tigers, and Bears, oh my.
Check out this month’s other bloggers, all of whom have posted or will post their own responses:
Ralph Pines
ishtar’sgate
skunkmelon
pyrosama
julzperri
Angyl78