Sunday, 29 April 2012

Why is Wigloo?


P   R   E   V   I   O   U   S   L   Y      I    N 
S   P   I   D   E   R   F   I   N   G   E   R   S

    The sight of the flames, spirals of whip-lashing fire fanning above Steph’s head and in front of her face. She took a quick scan of the debris laden street. No sign of Andy anywhere. Hastily, she shoved Saul aboard whilst keeping an eye on her predator. The wolf thing was sniffing the air. It span in Steph's direction.

    ‘Believe in me.’ she said as she boarded the bus and shut its doors behind her.

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    Wigloo is a space monkey and he lives on an island called Limbodia. He is nine years old and like all space monkeys Wigloo has a tail that curls, a nose that sniffs and fur all over his short little brown body. 

He has tiny paws that help him climb the trees that cover Limbodia, such a sandy wonderful tropical place surrounded by the sea, the sea of stars. 
Have you ever seen a mountain and wondered how it got there? Have you noticed a bird and wanted to know why it chooses to fly? 
Normally we don’t think about the things we see every day, now do we?

Not usually. 


It’s a matter of fact that whenever Wigloo spends time at the beach he can’t help but smile, but today is different. Today, Wigloo scratches his furry monkey head as he looks out at the shiny waves, the beautiful twinkling of the sea of stars and wonders, why?


    Wigloo likes to eat – the red fruit mostly, it’s sweet and goes down well.

Wigloo enjoys going to school and is always the first to put his hand up to ask teacher a question. When it’s home time, Wigloo loves nothing more than to run up to his room and watch the human’s in the dream pool he got for his fourth birthday.


The other night he spied on a woman reading Spot the Dog to her twin daughters – they were sat grinning in her lap. Apart from all this, what Wigloo loves to do most of all is to ask his mummy and his daddy questions.


    Wigloo will go to his mummy cooking in the kitchen and pull on her dress asking, ‘Why is fire hot?’ And Wigloo will happily pay a visit to his dad in the garden and ask him, ‘How come all plants are green?’

    ‘That’s just the way it is,’ replies his daddy scratching his bald head.

    ‘Oh Wigloo,’ sighed his mummy shrugging her shoulders, ‘I don’t know why fire is hot, better go ask your father.’

    Today however was different. Today Wigloo had a new question and only the truest answer would do,

    ‘Why is Wigloo?’ he asked pointing at his brown hairy chest.

    ‘I don’t know.’ said his mummy tickling some red fruits, their laughter echoing about the house.

    Coming in from the garden covered in earth, Wigloo’s dad asked Wigloo,
    ‘Are you hungry?’

    Wigloo shook his head.

    ‘I’ve got a blue, I bet it’s tasty.’ said Wigloo’s father holding out a ripe looking blue fruit, it’s eyes filled with trust, it’s mouth smiling up at Wigloo.

     ‘Erm, no thanks dad,’ repeated Wigloo waving away the happy looking food,

    ‘I’m not really hungry, I just want to know what I’m supposed to do.’

    Wigloo ran to his room, no doubt to watch the strange goings on in his dream pool.
    His daddy followed him up the stairs and knocked on the door, 

    ‘Mind if I come in?’


    ‘Erm, O.K.’ replied Wigloo.

    His father entered to find his son in the middle of his room beside his dream pool.

    ‘Son,’ began his father sitting down on the bed, ‘You’re supposed to grow up big and strong and go to big school and then after that, well, you’ll come work on the farm with me. Promise me you’ll be a good space Monkey Wigloo.’

    ‘I promise.’ said Wigloo though if you were to ask him, he wasn’t keen to work on his dad’s farm or for that matter anyone else’s.

    ‘Hey you!’ said Wigloo’s mummy popping her head round the door, ‘your fathers right so come on, you’d better eat something and soon Wigloo Winston.’ she said offering Wigloo a choice of a yellow fruit in one hand and a blue in the other.

    Wigloo waved both away. He wasn’t hungry, not for food anyway. When his parents eventually did leave the room (after talk of tractors and farming tools and how good yellow fruits are for a growing space monkey), Wigloo stared out of his beach side window at the ever wondrous Sea of Stars.
    Handy Andy twists and he pulls and he turns, his fractured body slipping against the icy moistness of street tarmac, the dirt and the grit clinging to his pale bluish zombie skin. Handy Andy’s desperate busy movements inflict the pressure, the wrenching of his pinky finger further and further back until he hears the pop and snap of bone, his broken digit sagging against the back of him useless, limp. Plan A is working. The vroom-vroom of an approaching truck is enough to hustle Andy’s broken palm-self to the middle of the frosty road, a dangerous area where his timing must be nothing short of impeccable – the spinning wheels must only break off a part of him. 
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Chapter 2: The Big Swim
    Unsatisfied with the answers his parents had given him, Wigloo ran to the shore of Limbodia and when he got there, he stopped. He placed his hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the still bright setting sun.

Now everybody knows that all little space monkeys have a knack of getting into trouble, and Wigloo had never swam to the mainland. No one had. Wigloo’s eyes and Wigloo’s imagination grew larger and larger with excitement as he fantasied about what creatures walked the far distant speck in the distance, that giant land, that jungle – it had no name and so, just to give it one, little Space Monkey’s called it The Big Unknown.


    Some had said that The Big Unknown was weird, that its beach had grey pebbles rather than sand. Many said that it was a dark jungle kingdom with eyes, red eyes that peered out of its thick thick bushes.

There were myths that forgotten gods lived there ready to gobble up naughty space monkeys that had disobeyed their loving parents. Still and despite all these rumors, Wigloo, for as long as he could remember had begged his mum and dad to take him there.


Many family trips to the seaside had begun and ended with Wigloo jumping up and down pointing out towards its mystery whilst his mother continued to sunbathe and his father patted down a tractor he and Wigloo had built out of sand,


    ‘You’re far too young to go.’ said Wigloo’s mummy.

    ‘Wait till you’re an adult,’ said his daddy, ‘then you can go on your adventure.’

    ‘But I won’t be bothered then!’ moaned Wigloo.

    ‘Exactly.’ muttered his father patting Wigloo’s head as he returned to making the sand tractor. Wigloo kicked some sand into the steady breeze.

    In their fast paced striding toward it, Steph and Saul could make it out, that giant slab of writing that sprouted up to the tranquil blue sky. The imaginative text passing through clouds the colour of lime, floating shapes reminiscent of tractors, palm trees, space monkeys...Steph smiled at the improvements that her subconscious had made. There were so many new words welded into the text, although the piece still needed truncating – far too many moments where an eight year old would get lost, still - the tale was solid. If only Steph hadn’t been tasked with her super surreal life. If only she had the time to indulge in Why is -

    ‘Wigloo is a space monkey,’ announced Saul squinting up at the text his reading voice monosyllabic and stuttering in the awkward way people who don’t like books read aloud, ‘…and he lives on an island called Limbodia. Nice. I guess that explains the sandy beach then eh missus?’ and Saul grinned inspecting the fast approaching shoreline, the waves of stars gently rolling into the beach making tinkling wind-chime sounds, ‘Wouldn’t mind an explanation about your fire hair. You the new god of chaos then or what?’

    ‘That would be goddess,’ corrected Steph her hurried walking kicking sand along the wind, ‘and no, the blue man kept calling me priestess.'

      ...That night, Wigloo packed his pouch with lots and lots of giggling red fruits.
    He made his way to the shore of Limbodia. After saying a prayer to the gods, Wigloo jumped into the waves, swimming through the sea of stars towards the Big Unknown.

    However, he didn’t face the glittering currents alone.

    Dave was Wigloo’s best friend and he always had a smile on his face. He was also Wigloo’s best kept secret and led a wonderful life under Wigloo’s bed. And Dave was a blue fruit, one of three kinds that grew on Limbodia.

    There was red, an apple you had to tickle, otherwise it wouldn’t let you eat it.

    Yellow, a bit like a banana but tinier than a baby’s little finger; you only had to touch a yellow to eat it, but they didn’t taste that nice. In fact, yellows were awful, even though they were good for you.

    And lastly…there was Blue, a round potato-looking fruit that you had to tell a story; otherwise it wouldn’t let you eat it. Not one bit.

    Many a night had gone by when Dave would point at a shelf of books excitedly.

    ‘Are you going to eat me today?’ Dave asked bouncing along beside Wigloo toward the opening in the jungle.

    ‘I’m still erm, I’m still thinking of a story.’ replied Wigloo parting the bamboo so they might step inside...

Speeding along in this timeless place, Steph’s fingers played with the crackling tussles that trickled over her shoulders, flaming hair heating her neck and back. But somehow, magically, her golden locks never singed her clothes or skin underneath. A thought crossed her brow and it channeled downward and out of her mouth,

    ‘Can priestess’ become goddesses?’ she asked.

    ‘You’re asking me,’ Saul replied pointing at his chest, ‘Me, the zombie? Unless you wanna know what aisle the eggs are in,’ he said pointing to the Sainsbury’s logo on his shirt, ‘or how our prices compare to Tesco, I’m not exactly Mr Useful right now.’

    Steph smiled before countering, ‘Hey, where’s an armless blue Yoda guy when you need him?’

    ‘Search me missus, or since we’re in your mind,’ he said raising his eyebrows and twirling his finger in her direction, ‘how’s about we search you?'

    'The more I think about it, the more I'm dreading the truth.'

    'You what?'

    'Well all this,' said Steph pointing out across the beach-lands, 'this all belongs to Spiderfingers and I just know he did this to me using some kind of magic.'

    'You mean hypnotism.'

    'What?'

    'It's my theory,' began Saul scratching his stubble as he affected his voice into a higher more educated timbre, 'I stipulate that Spiderfingers gets people to do what he wants via mind control. Probably waggles his fingers in your face to put you under. It's in the name innit? Beats Vicky's hypothesis anyway. She thought he was an alien.'

    'Really?'

    'Yeah. She reckoned that he was harmless - deluded but believing his own lie. Chaos god? My arse. You know how we met him, right?'

    'I read about it,' nodded Steph, 'it's all in his notebook.'

    'The one he gave to you?' smirked Saul exposing his yellowy zombie dentures, 'that's just his ego bullshit mate.'

    'What really happened?' asked Steph as her fire hair rose in its ruby intensity, 'how did you end up this way?'

    'You want to know the history of Spiderfingers and the Discordians? O.K, I'll tell you a story...'

    Saul told his family's history whilst constantly staring ahead. He wasn't one for storytelling, and so instinctively stared ahead so that he could recount everything without losing track.

    'John Clay was our lodger, then one day we found out he wasn't completely human. Apparently he'd merged with Boleraam, the god of chaos and as a new entity - Spiderfingers - his job was to stay alive because if he didn't, slave-driving gods would be able to travel here and show the government how to really screw us.'

    'I know this bit,' said Steph looking down unimpressed, 'he gave you all powers so you could protect him from being killed because his death meant the fall of the god-hex.'

    'C'mon!' shouted Saul stopping briefly before continuing their walk, 'he's not the guy you write about. He isn't a superhero.'

    'What do you mean?,' said Steph searching for his eyes, 'he's not perfect but -'

    'He Conned Vicky right until the end. She died thinking she was dying for the good guy. First time I saw any of this wacky shit was in my own yard. Him...fighting a winged minion, yeah? I had to believe in him.'

    'And your belief in Spiderfingers allowed him to etch powers onto you all, so long as you defended him - I know this. I read this. I'll soon be writing - '

    'Just stop there. You don't know everything,' said Saul blocking Steph's continuance, his eyes ablaze. 'What you don't know is that he allowed that first minion into our house.'

    'What?'

    'Oh, yeah. The only reason why me, Vicky, Lilith, mum, dad and Nathaniel started believing in him was cos of a fucking lie. He recruited us as his little army off the back of a fucking set up.'

    'He wrote that you were a Superhero team.'

    Saul leaned his head back and laughed before a quick stride off and then a march back chuckling...

    'Doesn't surprise me.' he said, 'And get this, Steph, our biggest opponent yeah, his evil nemesis - Aronson - he was really some old geezer from the hospital down the road. Spiderfingers had done the whammy on him. When we rumbled him, Spidertwat said he did it to keep us alive. Aronson and all the attacks on my family, yeah - Spiderdick called it practice.'

    'So Aronson's why you guys fell out.' said Steph pacing round him slowly. She knew all this from her dream of Spiderfingers fighting the Dilfs in the Bucahanan household. Without that dream she couldn't have come up with 'The Death of Spiderfingers'. Still, she wanted to confirm the information even if she was weary about riling her accompaniment too much. She still had his zombie attack fresh in mind.

    'Actually er, no...it wasn't Aronson that finally woke everyone up. Vicky just wouldn't have it. and see, when Spiderfingers got rid of Aronson, he only went and replaced him with some upgrade called Mr Lime.'

    'What?! Is he stupid? How could he make the same mistake twice?'

    'You get me? The dickhead reckoned that after what happened to Nathaniel...well he said we needed to up security.'

    Steph opened her mouth but then decided to bottle her question. Now was not the time to ask about Nathaniel Buchanan.
N   E   X   T      T   I   M   E      I    N
S   P   I   D   E   R   F   I   N   G   E   R   S

Her hair is dirty, unkempt and had it been placed under the scrutiny of daylight would reveal its stark blonde hue. Alice Is short, nearly dwarf height and her impish face helps cement the notion for first appearances. This woman however only looks like a girl.

    ‘Spider’s told me about you and the rest of your family,’ croaks Alice with a voice seldom used, ‘but I want an up to date and complete breakdown of all your abilities.’
(N.B The comments posted below pertain to a deleted scene).
WARNING: THESE COMMENTS INCLUDE SPOILERS.

11 comments:

  1. I'm really pleased that we're getting more direct commentary from Mr Lime, our Ghostly Host; his direct questioning of the audience and his answering of unasked questions, like a music hall emcee, is deliciously meta. All the elusions to theatre and Mr Lime's assumptions about the audience serve to drag the reader in to the story, making them see themselves as part of the narrative itself.

    The dialogue is accomplished and, because Steph is now acting in the role of 'uniformed stooge' the information dump we receive from Saul doesn't feel forced. On the contrary, it's nice to final have a few answers - although, typically, these answers throw up yet more questions.

    A few bits that I thought might be improved:

    1. You need to look carefully at your use of possessive apostrophes: "this fine instalments ending", "prey to times wear and tear" and "about this yarns bad guy" should all include possessive apostrophes because the ending belongs to the instalment, the wear and tear belongs to time and the bad guy belongs to this yarn. I hope that makes sense?

    2. The following sentence was a little clumsy and difficult to read: "Oh and don’t you forget, when you’re busy scuffing away the dirt your clothes collect from the street he throws you to - just remember, memorise well – your ejection serves as an example:" Maybe try to rephrase it, perhaps like this: "Oh, and don't you forget (when you're busy brushing the dirt of the streets from your clothes, dirt collected when he throws you to the kerb) just remember, memorise well; you ejection serves as an example."

    3. There's a little bit of confusion in your tenses. The majority of the narrative takes place in present tense - but Mr Lime states "You ought to have witnessed the spectacle" Either this should read "you ought to witness the spectacle" or all the narrative that comes after this sentence (that which relates to Saul and Steph anyway) should be written in the past tense. Not sure what others think about that one...

    I'm very interested in the kind of language you use to describe the theatre itself: curtains parting, wooden wombs, props that were birthed etc. There's a lot of feminine imagery here, the theatre as mother of storytelling perhaps? Was this deliberate? What is your motivation for these lexical choices? Are we seeing Mr Lime's attitude to theatre, or John Clay's?

    As for the interactive element of the story, it's a very interesting concept. I'm reminded of the Choose Your Own Adventure series (I collect 1970s CYOA books, I've got one called 'You Are a Shark' it is excellent.) and I wonder if you plan to write both pathways? And whether the choice itself will affect the story in a fundamental way, or in a small way that may not be visible till later. I'm intrigued...

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  2. Appreciate you’re liking ole Lime features – he is hard to write because unlike Spider, there is no counter balance to his arrogance (having someone or some event take a crack at his ego would make me feel that he might be more likeable and less annoying…). Glad you feel part of the narrative – I wasn’t sure if it worked – anyone think it didn’t? Post a comment – let me know.

    This month I’ve been rather lazy and busy with music related shaninigans so I was unsure of Steph’s dialogue but hey, let’s see if anyone else figured her dialogue was lacking. I enjoyed writing Saul so much more. I’ve been manoeuvring Steph into the uniformed stooge role this season/volume because we’ve a whole new worlds to inhabit – she will be our door way to them.

    Again, I’ve not proof read the grammar as much this month due to the deadline so I’ll comb through the piece tomorrow early evening and get it a little more up to scratch. Oh, gotta love your rewriting of the ‘thrown to the kerb’ sentence…think I shall amend that tonight before sleeping!

    The messing around with the tenses is something I’ve done a lot of before and I think that I’ll really knuckle down on this throughout the week. I was sooooo close to going bi-monthly next month just so I can proof read the rather heavily layered plot points tense-wise! I think that I may save bi-monthly for next year’s season (the final one)….or I may take a year off to write it? I am going to have to do one or the other. I CANNOT live this way for another year…I’m mental enough as it is without these stories taking over my life.

    Any comment on the feminine imagery would be like me telling you the ending to that Bruce Willis movie - Sixth Sense. If you haven’t watched it, check it out – now!

    Ever read the Hardy Boys? That was my basis for interactive storytelling this month! I had an Indiana Jones choose your fate book as well! SO glad you were reminded of these books…they really did make my child hood more interesting…

    Now, regarding the choice Lime has made for you…what shall it be? Both ways have been plotted out and I like both but must only choose one.
    You decide!

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  3. Oh my Goodness, it's got to be YES. It has to be the purple bus from The Show. How could it not be?

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  4. Well that's one yes and two more votes to decide the next the focus of next months events. I love handing over the choice to you people - it will indicate whether you all feel in the need for more answers and indeed, that you suspect you shall receive them aboard the violet hue of the Matryoshka...

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    Replies
    1. Hey hey.

      So the story is moving along it's journey....or at least trying to!

      Its developing nicely, the pace embodied in the car chase (chased by plot I guess ha). By any chance an allusion to Leannes story of the man fleeing with his gruesome package? I saw echoes of my Last Eagle in it too.

      There are some sections that are quite clunky (an old flaw of yours rearing its head). Leanne has pointed some out and you have spoke of how you were pushed this month. Im not going to belabour the point as a reread and bit of time will soon sort them out.

      Leanne also mentioned the feminie quality to the theatre...I missed this on first reading, bu they idea caught whilst I let my subconscious gurgle over before commenting. Im going to get back to this in a round about way...

      Mr Lime is an enticing way to break the fourth wall, get in necassary expo without an overt info dump, add humour and make the audiance part of the story....however.

      The idea of having the audiance in a literal capacity and he as the MC/Narrator/Voice of God is good, the theatre is a nice ouch, but I felt that this actually detracted, jarred me out of the flow of story...

      " They cannot rebut centuries of programming: Saul Buchannan a.k.a Zombie Boy spinning an imaginary steering wheel - Ha, in this enclosure we are quite content with his mime; ....." etc

      Although the ideas you express here are interesting, they seem unessary, and more like you put them in becuase you liked the, not because the story need them. Having a literal audiance works, having the action presented as a literal play doesnt. I can except Lime, the set up, the curtains and the hush, but this threw me out of the narrative, and took me awhile to get back into it.

      And it was here I stumbled across what I think you were driving at. The nature of reality, what is real and what is not?

      The femine theatre, a stage in which stories are acted out. An antagonist who believes she has invented a story, only to realise its real, but is it? Is the theatre Steph's mind? She at the centre of it caught in a story, the reality presented as acting?

      The fact that the secondary characters play multiple parts whilst she only plays herself (No Kiera here...).

      In the car she still questions what is real, whilst wring her stories...or is she documenting a shift in the cosmos, an unwitting chronicler?

      in light of these thoughts this line stands out...

      "And all my lines are accompanied by silhouettes on the white of the back wall."

      Giving the implication of puppetry, and in trun puppet master....and who is this master that resides over the theatre/stephs mind?

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  5. If I am anywhere near the mark with these ideas...and they would be very good in the context of your story-I do think this peice needs lots of polish, to tighten u your themes. Sublty is great but for folks to truely appreciate your work you could be a wee bt more flagrant. Something I never thought Id say to you! :)

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  6. The character driven/reflective Why is Wigloo was an attempt (though quite lengthly) to address the main story strands that were left hanging after Christmas but I think that ever since Triangles there was a general consensus by all that I get Steph into the story and move the story along. Cheers for appreciating the forward thrust!

    No, I wasn’t consciously writing the escape from Bellevue with anyone’s story in mind but if you found subtle links here and there and they increased the entertainment value then great, bully for you!

    Regarding chunkiness – belabour away as that is EXACTLY what I want to drive out of this latest story. If you’re reading Rachel, Carla, Sim, Jade then please – point out the ‘huh?’ bits.

    Mr Lime is more than functional and his world is habituated by important characters in episodes and volumes to come. His ego is grand and his jarring you out of the story is something that he recognises in the tale itself. Let’s see if he can keep a lid on it?

    Very VERY glad you see the theatre as a place/world in abstract form. VERY. Steph’s mind? Ha! When you find out you’ll be happy I didn’t tell you here…

    The whole ‘is this real concept’ has been a sub-theme since The Show so the possible return to the Blunderbus is timely in accordance to the tale and not the whim of a writer who has fallen for some wild meta idea. Have faith in my need to serve the story and not my ego though, considering my writing a caricature of myself into the narrative will always cast the light of suspicion regarding motives. It will fall to John Clay lookalike Foley Edwards’ involvement with the plot to have the final word on the responsibilities of the writer to their audience.

    Hey, hold it – me being asked to be more flagrant? Me? Jesus…

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    1. "I wasn’t consciously writing the escape from Bellevue with anyone’s story in mind"

      Ok but they were definatly there, and you often exclaim @Im stealing that!' and are in danger of becoming Steph if you dont awknowledge it :P

      "Mr Lime is more than functional" & "His ego is grand and his jarring you out of the story is something that he recognises in the tale itself"

      Hmmmm. Mr Lme is certainly functional from th readers perspective. You, obviously, know where he's going, but we are unaware of his agenda or overall purpose other than th above mentioned functions. He does come across as an unrelable narrator which gives him some depth. Yes he is a developed chara in that he has clear personality BUT he is pretty much an archtype chara for you. Very typical, and not that seperated from SFs. even if he turns out to be an aspct of SFs you still need to make them distinctive, I know yo love egomaniacs but he can have ego and be distinct. Last time he was on page I prefered him...

      The Theatre. Iniatilly in my rambling thoughts I had considered that it was more Gaia like. A womb of Arts. But then again yur not afraid of suddenly introducing new charas so maybe its Athena, or Mr Lime is an agent of a trapped Athena...you have already set the themes of war and art on a paralel.

      You wana keep the physical theatre in, well thats you perogative, but you will definately need to work on that section, it wasnt good jarring-a shock or enexpected twist, or inspiring thought-just a disruption, throwing me out of the stry and to stop reading. :) And as you point out with Foley, you do put your own words into the mouths of characters. This can be fine as long as it makes narative/contectual/pacing sense. I feel that bit didnt.

      I'll do a clunky run thru later/another day, ive eaten too much pizza and am cld so am also sleepy. And a bit jittery. And bloody hell I hate your choice of white writing on black, it makes my eyes hurt! Ha, no grey?

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  7. Me become Steph? Poppycock! Anything I’ve intended to steal hasn’t consciously been used yet...

    I considered a more humble narrator but Mr Lime was a ‘missing link’ regarding a story strand so…

    Make him more distinct in regards to Spiderfingers? Have you re-read a typical Spiderfingers tale recently? The whole Rooenn, self-loathing, lack of certain senses, at odds with his human self shizzle makes old man chaos very different from our pompous, over excitable, nosey, indignant narrator. And those eyes of his…hmmmm…

    ‘Last time he was on page I prefered him.’ – A.Fox
    Really? How would I know? You really don’t know how much I rely upon continual monthly analysis do you? :p

    ‘The Theatre. Initially in my rambling thoughts I had considered that it was more Gaia like. A womb of Arts. But then again you’re not afraid of suddenly introducing new characters so maybe its Athena, or Mr Lime is an agent of a trapped Athena...you have already set the themes of war and art on a parallel.’ – A.Fox

    Love this so much but alas, what I intend to do with the theatre is far less complicated than that. Though don’t let your guard down, the concept that Lime has yet to show us is still pretty insane.

    I LOVE white on black but may consider grey since Sim has said it kills his retinas also. Do you use grey Ashley? :p

    I’d say the baton for clunky-spotting has passed on – you’ve done more than enough for this month – you’ve got a kid, a dodgy heater, your stories, etc…I ask no more of you.

    Except…

    Purple bus or random coach?

    You decide.

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  8. Firstly I agree with Ashley, the white on black messes with the old eyeballs. Please do something about it!
    Right now, I liked the driven pace of this peice and like Leanne I liked the exposition, it didn't feel forced and I was happy with getting more info.

    Few questions:
    Any particular reason it's called the BB theatre club?
    Why have you set it up as a play? Any particular reason behind it? Are you trying to show the futility of their exploration? Or is it left over mental from Steff's mental meltdown?

    "Steph observes Bellevue become a dot on the far-off paleness of the backstage border." - this I find clunky. Should say "becoming a dot" or "watches Bellevue" - the sentence staarts slowly but ends too quickly and with two much description. Make sense?
    "a surgery for punctuation slips great and small mustn’t prove terminal" - I didn't get this. I read it over a couple if times and it still evades me - can you shed some light?

    Fav sentence:
    "the mobile as a bludgeon will have to suffice... - liked this a lot."

    Alice is Spiderfingers daughter? What? Feel like I've totally missed something..

    Sorry it's bitty, I wrote it down in notes. However I really liked this and I like the fact your work doesn't seem so bogged down (to me at least) I like the punchy pace it's throwing at me and I want to know more! (Also seems I'm a big fan of alliteration...)

    Bravo sir.

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  9. Love the cinematic look of the white on black and hey, I’ll change my white on black if she does :p

    This volume really is about answers to last year’s set ups so yeah, expect answers EVERY month as to what has gone before.

    Regarding the BB theatre’s moniker have a read through The Show one of these days as the answer is there. I have loads of min mysteries that are sorted in a re-reading of the whole piece but hey dude, It is only a slight enigma and not entirely important to the whole so allow the story to have its secrets…they shall keep.

    Regarding the transition between the clarifying function of Limes storytelling and his recent evolvement to using theatre as a narrative device – read The Recollection Wheel.

    "Steph observes Bellevue become a dot on the far-off paleness of the backstage border."
    Have to disagree on the supposed ‘clunky’ nature of this sentence as your suggestionsmess with the tense in a way that would lead to confusion.

    "a surgery for punctuation slips great and small mustn’t prove terminal" - I didn't get this. I read it over a couple if times and it still evades me - can you shed some light?

    I’m likening Steph’s editing to that of a surgeon performing a potentially life endangering operation – her work really does mean life and death to her (her ego anyway…she seemingly places little value on anything else).
    If you have a way to make this clearer that would be great though I think it’s fine you’ve got me thinking…

    You didn’t finish reading all of my first arc and had if you had, you’d realise that Spider referring to Alice as his daughter is not technically correct but is still applicable. No one but you has even read of her last adventures so treat this mystery like the BB theatre except, this plot point is a ‘middle level’ priority…something to be clarified later

    You’ve mentioned the plot’s punchiness twice and I have had a tweak at some sentences – anything you want to say regarding characterisation/motivation?
    Time for you to indulge your actress training!

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