by Shelt Garner
@sheltgarner
Things continue to move at a pretty fast clip at the moment with this novel. It may take me a few more days than I’d prefer, but no later than by the end of the week — I hope — I will be at the midpoint of the novel. Then I can start to work on the second half of the novel with an eye to how I’m going to edit the whole thing a few times before the Beta Reader process begins.
The heroine of the first novel in this projected six novel project in my mind kind of sorta looks like a younger version of Olivia Munn combined with a younger version of Nicole Scherzinger.
All I can say is, whomever is playing me in the simulation has gotten better. Or maybe I have a new user because things are really flowing with this novel. I feel a sense of urgency and focus that I have not felt before. I definitely feel more inclined to “shut up and write” than I have in the past.
The only reason why I keep writing and talking so much about this novel at this point is I’m 100% extroverted and I can’t help myself. Maybe when I make it big I will finally get the self-control to stop talking and writing about writing so much.
Anyway, yesterday, Saturday, I was feeling very restless so I went to a stripclub. It was very cathartic and even though it was VERY EXPENSIVE relative to how much money I have on hand for the month, it was totally worth it. And, really, that’s what makes going to a stripclub so appealing — I never feel cheated, even by the end of the visit I barely have enough money left to eat.
But one thing that happened has left me uneasy. It’s somewhat murky on an ethical basis and that makes it even more troublesome. I was talking to a very attractive young woman when I, in my infinite wisdom — told her she was my type — a “high yeller,” also known as a “rebone.”
Yikes, am I dumb when drunk sometimes.
The thing is, I feel queasy that I said these words, and, yet, I don’t honestly know if they’re all that offensive or not. I think it all depends on the context. Yes, I think I was a drunk idiot for using these terms, but in real terms, in the South at least, they’re usually seen as a dumb, somewhat comical method of describing an African American with light brown skin.
That doesn’t make me feel any better, though. I could totally get if the young woman had been offended. I just shouldn’t have said those words. I have to take the L on this one, I’m afraid.
Anyway, this reminds me of how over the course of six projected novels in this project I’ve managed to come up with two heroines who are “brown.” I have a hunch why this is the case, but, lulz, sometimes you just have to accept what you have to work with and move on. If anything, my dumb screw up with the stripper has given me pause for thought going forward whenever I’m asked how to describe my “brown” heroines.
I could totally see some well-meaning smug Twitter liberal freaking the fuck out if I slipped up and used either one of those terms to describe my “brown” heroines.
But, as I said, things are really moving fast at this point. I don’t know how much of this is I just turned 50 and I’m feeling some pressure to put up or shut up and how much of this comes from I just know the story so well that things are flowing a lot better.
Anyway. Wish me luck.
