I knew I was crazy to let her loose on an unsuspecting world but I couldn’t resist! Sammy is like crack to me — the good kind, like chocolate. When she pitched this idea of a kindergarten teacher trying to write M/M I thought …. how bad could that be? Well you’re about to find out amidst the nursery rhymes and sex toys. :sex4: :blush:
Sammy sat at her computer, sweating proverbial buckets, attempting to write. In a move she would later describe as “the moment I lost my FKG mind, she had agreed to write a short story for a little anthology project currently running over at Goodreads.
“Piece of cake”, her friend Shaz told her. (Of course it was piece of biscuit or something like that cause everyone knows those d*mn Aussies never use real English!) “Believe in yourself,” her friend Kaje (I wrote 5000 words during the half hour layover in the airport) Harper told her.
But the most encouraging response had to have been uttered by her former gay best friend Rick,
“Have you gone completely batshit crazy?” Along with,
“Please tell me you are not going to write more of that man-root crap! I told you before, we gay boys call it a c**k!”
Meanwhile from their bedroom, Freddy (loving partner of former gay best friend!) yelled encouragingly,
“Don’t listen to him Sam, he calls it Mr. Wiggles! Speaking of which babe, (yes, Freddy is still yelling) is Mr. Wiggles coming out to play tonight?”
Sammy heard a sharp intake of breath and then,
“Gotta go, Sam, good luck and all that crap!”
Sammy looked at the phone in her hand and threw it down in disgust. She could do this! She could write stories about manly bits and make them sound plausible—she was a writer for god’s sake!! Granted she normally wrote children’s plays but how hard could this whole m/m fiction thing really be?
Sammy wiped her sweaty brow, took a swig of her second gin and ton…er…cup of coffee, and began typing:
Jack: Jill? (shaking Jill by the shoulder) Jill, c’mon wake up! You have to help me. Oh No! Jill where did the bucket go?
Jill: (groggily) Jack? Wha…wha…what happened?
Jack: We fell! Now get up and help me find that bucket!
Jill: Jack? I think I may have hit my head on something.
Jack: So did I but you don’t see me complaining. Now FIND that bucket!
Jill: (angrily) I’m hurt Jack! How can an old bucket be more important than that…than me?
Jack: Because Jill, that bucket has the last of my condoms and lube in it and Peter Piper and I have a date later and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some stupid fall down a hill keep me from getting in his ass tonight!
(WHAT!!!! Wait just a darn tootin’ minute there! This is a classic children’s rhyme—and as such should be considered sacred! Let’s try this again!)
The Butcher: (sitting with his back to the other two men) Oh man, the tub has another leak! Hey Baker throw me that tube of hand cream would ya; I think it’ll fit right in this hole.
The Baker: (gasping) Can’t…right…now…kind of…ah…ah…ah…b-b-busy.
The Butcher: Oh, okay well Candlestick maker can you toss me that tube?
Candlestick Maker: Ah, baby, so tight.
The Butcher: (still with his back to the other two men) Yeah, that’s the point, it should fit good and snug right in this wet little hole. (waits a beat then says) Well, ya gonna help me plug this thing or not?
Candlestick Maker: Ah, ah, ah cumming!
WHOA! OMG! Sammy was at her wit’s end! She had no experience writing m/m fiction! And the deadline for the short story was coming up fast! Why oh why had she let her friends talk her into this??
She turned to the only place she knew where she would hear the unvarnished truth about whether or not she could actually make this transition from children’s playwright into author of m/m fiction.
“What in the hell are you doing calling me again! I’ll have you know Mr. Wiggles is very unhappy!”
(And from the bedroom) “Sam, sweetie I love you but you’re killing me here!”
“Do you hear that Sam? You’re killing Freddy! Now for god’s sakes what is so important that it just couldn’t wait another 30 minutes?”
(Again from the bedroom) “Oh please another 10 minutes max!”
“Shut up in there or no more Mr. Wiggles for you, bucko!”
“Ok Sam, spill it!”
And I did! On and on and on, about how I could never possibly write m/m fiction. How there were so many great authors in this field already. How I could never be as good as any of them. When I was finished, my former gay best friend said something that most assuredly moved him smack dab back into gay best friend status!
“Sam, everyone of those authors started out with an idea in their heads and a gut full of butterflies, just like you. You’re a good writer! So now go, get back on your computer, and tell them one of your stories. You can do this! I believe in you!”
My heart was in my throat. Such kind and loving words. I could feel my confidence soar! As I hung up the phone I heard his final sweet words,
“Do you think she bought that Freddy? God, these heterosexuals are such hard work!”
But I was no longer listening. With a spring in my step and images of boys “doing it” dancing in my head, I sat down at the computer and began again…
Little Bo Peep: So, Mary, Mary, I’d really like to plow your garden!
Sammy would love to hear any loving words of encouragement you might have or any “my god, did I agree to write that?” stories you might like to tell her! Or, really anything you’d like to share, including your grocery list cause Wave won’t let her do another post if you people don’t pony up with some comments! Rick and Freddy thank you in advance for helping take this lunatic (aka Sammy) off their hands!