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5/07/2013

writing doodle - character insight - Grandpa Adam Zimmer - word count 788


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For the past three hours, I have been trying to get some sleep.  There are several things going against me, it is hot and I can't get comfortable, the dog won't share my pillow, I am almost done crocheting a scarf for a friend (not that she needs one in May - but still) and I keep hearing the song of Kokopelli. 

The song is eerie, simple, and makes me think of winter storms complete with wind battering shutters on the side of the house and chili on the stove boiling over.  

When the flute plays, I am supposed to write - tired or not. 

So I staggered from the living room to the office, to find someone who somewhat resembles Richard Griffiths of Harry Potter fame (he was Uncle Vernon), the Michellin Man,  and Mr. Clean.  

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," the man says. He plucked a hanky from his inside jacket pocket and wiped the powdered sugar from the tips of his fingers.  After I shook his proffered hand, I accepted the handkerchief so I could get rid of the surplus sugar lent to me.

"Not at all," I said.  "I wasn't doing anything important."  I was going to examine the inside of my eyelids, ensure that I had some beauty sleep (with this past birthday, I need more and more shut eye so I can pretend I am still in my 30s somewhere).  "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Adam Zimmer," he said.  "This way we can cover everything from A to Zed, so to speak."

What all do we need to cover?  Why is it so important to do this now?

"I have an idea for you, Alf.  I want to become a recurring character."

"Funny since I was going to kill you off in this story," I said, covering my mouth with my fist so he couldn't see the yam that tried to escape.  "It should make Zero a great tragic hero.  Help him get the girl."

"Get the girl?  You're going to cut me down in my prime so he can get a girlfriend?"

"Pretty much, yeah."  

"Why can't you give him some game?  Let him take Manny's cast offs? What about Lester's?"

"This is the age of sexually communicable diseases," I said.  "I think he should go more than three paragraphs before he gets laid.  At the minimum, I don't want him to take up weight lifting so can lift a little black book."

"Alf, you are incredibly out of date.  there is no such thing as a little black book.  Think big. Think Smart Phone, iPhone, or tablet of some kind."

"Think he doesn't trust technology, has had women check his phones for other contact information, or is inept."  Besides, I have been slow and technology changes every 20 seconds and I don't want to write something that will be dated before I am able to publish it somewhere.  Yes, self-publishing is an option, but for now, I want to at least finish a story line with my own characters.

"What about flashbacks?" he asked.

"I might be able to give you flashbacks."

"How many books?" He ran his liver spotted hand over his thin crown of hair.  "It should be in every book.  I could be his muse.  I could be his conscious.  I could be his-"

"Favorite word?" I asked.

"What?"

"Favorite word.  What is your favorite word?" The patience in my voice was long since gone and I could tell the first fantasy I wrote for Zero was a complete night of uninterrupted sleep.

“Fine.  My favorite word is plush.”

I could work with that.  Good.  “Least favorite word?”

“Dysfunction.” He didn’t meet my eyes. 

“No need to elaborate.”  I turned over the sheet of paper over and began to scrawl on the other side. “What turns you on?”

“Viagra,” he said, “but if you tell anyone else I said that, I am going to deny it to the walls.”

“Fine.”

“What turns you off?”

He glared at me.  “No, I’m not answering that.” 

“Just tell me the first thing that comes to mind.  What turns you off?”

“The need for Viagra.”

Eww.  Not just too much information, but way too much information.

“I’d like to go back to bed,” I said.  “Right now I’m not in a good place to take notes or dictation.” Nor was I in a good position to get details of his life other than just that one aspect. “Can we pick this up tomorrow?”

The old man blew out a sigh.  “I have plans at the urologist tomorrow morning. How about sometime after lunch?”

“Done.”

“Thanks, Alf.  You are a true gentleman.”

Great.

TBC







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