4394

The story rolls down through a gravity field of its own making, no turns needed yet, just roll roll roll, baby. A time will come when the current main character has to drop out and let other voices pop in, but that won't be for awhile yet, so no worries, the hardest part is to reach deeper into my skull and pull out more pumpkin guts and spray them with my typing fingers out onto the screen when I'd really really really rather do, let's face it, almost anything else. But I don't want to be a weenie. I don't mind being a weenie, don't get me wrong, it's being thought of as a weenie that I want to avoid, especially since they'd be right. They being the weenie-callers. Thought I'd clarify that.

See? That is how it's done. Don't stop, just write, stream it out, and don't worry about the next turn in the plot until your main character has suddenly had the realization flood all over him like the effluent of a busted sewer pipe that he is in a jail in China of all places with the circumstantial evidence rather strong that he got drunk and killed a local, and though the police really prefer to leave foreigners alone when it comes to their indiscretions, murder isn't quite the wink-wink it used to be, and with this realization that he is well and truly fucked comes another realization, i.e. that the author don't know shit about Shanghai police procedures and had best distract the audience with somebody else's troubles, as they can be knit to the first somebody's troubles later. No one has to know that most of the verisimilitude was gleaned from a handful of conversations with a local or two and does not reflect much in the way of real knowledge. Backup and facts n shit are for the rewrite.