Cam vs Mak

It's been interesting to pound out two relatively in-depth characters in the space of a week. It went from one character with little more than a snippet of action and a poorly veiled name to describe him to two characters complete with full names that suit them, backstories, temperaments, abilities, reactions to people, and, ultimately, a plot big enough for the both of them (it helps that neither is very large of stature).

Cam has become something of a little friend that needs assistance. He doesn't see the world clearly, and doesn't understand all that he could be. He's a sad sight to see, when you understand what you're looking at. The really sad part is that nobody does.

Mak is good with kids, and that's all that really matters about him. Though, he's the first truly shortsighted character I think I've come up with. He lives supremely in the present.

Though I can't claim them as only mine (I have more of a claim on Mak than Cam, even though I care about him less), I at least had a strong hand in their creation. I've never worked this fast before, and it's been really amazing to watch them come to life even before the penning of their story begins.

It's also been interesting to watch the theme of the story evolve into something more than an attempt at fairy-tale reversal. I can look at it, and the little twists that my co-author and I have tossed in "for fun," and see that it could mean something deeper than an anti-hero if we write it the right way. The question is, can we do it?

This is why I write. I can only assume it's a bit like raising children, only different.

Taper Shark

It started with the tongue. It always does. The tongue is always the first thing to go. The tip of the tongue in the most susceptible, and that area shows the earliest signs. Before long, the entire muscle has fallen to the influence of the transformation, and things start to happen unbidden.

The first thing to die was my smile. My rebellious tongue took over the function, and weaseled out from between my lips whenever a hint of a smile came to my face. I don’t know what people thought of me when I was always sticking out my tongue, but that became the least of my worries.

My lips fell next, and with both them and my tongue out of commission, my language skills noticeably dropped. Instead of words, I began to make inarticulate sounds that babbled from my mouth like an inane brook. And when the sounds failed, spitting followed. There is actually quite a lot one can say with only water and the nerve to spit it at people. Even spitting it at nobody can make quite a statement—it’s all in the tone and delivery. Still, I was worried that I had resorted to such primitive tactics so early. The vibrating energy wriggled under my skin, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I wouldn’t be able to hold it in.

The most frightening of the transformations began with my teeth. Before I knew what I was thinking, I was gnawing on the lump of hair that stuck out from the back of my friend’s head. A bun, I believe it is called. When covered with latex, the structure makes an excellent chew toy—the texture is marvelous. Slowly, the compulsions became stronger, and I nearly bit my friend’s leg. But I stopped myself before I actually closed my teeth on the flesh of her shank; I only touched her skin before letting her pull away.

I suppose this is something like how a werewolf feels. He knows the transformation is coming, he knows what it means. Yet there is nothing he can do to stop it, nothing to do but to watch, and wait for the deep insanity to take hold of his consciousness.

At least this doesn’t happen every month. It’s only once a year, even if it is for a few weeks at a time.

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Taper is driving me extra-insane this year. Next week is going to be craaaaaazy.