Brainstorming

Brainstorming. Uh, no, I'm not doing it. This is the one thing in the writing world I hate with a passion. I've always hated it, but the invention of IM and chat rooms make it even worse, because my happy little writer friends drag me in there and then they discuss goals and motivations and conflicts and they begin to talk about these imaginary people like they were their best friends. It's creepier than a plumber with a low waistline. I always get lost and confused, because I can't figure out what's for dinner, never mind plan 10 years of Rico Swave's life.

Sadly, my so-called friends have resorted to rude tactics to get me to brainstorm. They lure me into a chatroom with the scent of fresh gossip, then once I'm in, they toss the net and truss me up. AND THEY LAUGH, the blighters. "Ha ha, you have to brainstorm. Now tell me what you think of this for Gino's internal conflict." Of course, I've been known to escape. I've made AOL my scapegoat more than once. "Oh, sorry, AOHELL dumped me again." I'll probably burn in hell for it and never be able to get an internet connection again, but it's worth it.

But there's one way I will brainstorm sort of willingly, and that's when two of my friends get out the Tarot cards. We'll hit the chatroom and ask a question about our story, then they'll pull cards. I like it because there's very little thought on my part. I can sit and make rude comments and play the 'card pulling music', sort of like when they do Final Jeopardy on T.V. And tarot plotting is about 99.9999% accurate--better than birth control pills!

Of course, it's frustrating when you get a NS reading--meaning 'no s##t'. That's when you get cards that a total illiterate moron could interpret about your story. But there's still little thought and even more opportunity for snarky comments.

So friends, know I'm on to you. I vow to have more control at the slightest hint of juicy tidbits. And don't try the whole, "I SOLD! Hit the chatroom!" scene because when I discover it was a ploy, I will attack like a toy poodle looking for ankle meat. You've been warned.