Coca-cola Formula One for Fantasy Writers

It begins in a far away place with a lonely foster son. His adopted family has cared for him but at the same time, failed to recognize or acknowledge his inherent specialness. His secret power that is even unknown to himself, owing to not having any known past, lays languishing, undiscovered until he witnesses an act of extreme heroism and/or violence that rouses him to action. He helps in some small and admittedly lucky capacity but the result is that the person he helped, recognizes his “potential.” The saved person is a man of mystery, and yet of the world, whom the commoners ignore or consider “strange.” Our would be languishing hero is of course, drawn to him and trust him instantaneously, be he Aragorn, Hagrid or Obi Wan Kenobi.

In a rush of exposition, he is removed from the bland local landscape of peasants and poor, brought to a place of peace, bounty, excellence and knowledge. Yet all this perfection is tinged with sadness, it is dying if only because no one has come with the sacred power, the chosen one, the ring, or the number of mitocondrians necessary to rejuvenate the perfect world and recall its glory days. The apprentice hero is loaded with gifts and given a stern lecture by the all knowing super mentor that knows what he is capable of becoming. This usually results in a pondering soliloquy or equally dense dialogue between the “strange hero” who has plucked this youth out of obscurity, and the mentor, with whom the strange hero goes way way back, lots of emotional baggage. The hero is accepted, he shouts yippee or mugs a grin or claps his hands as he begins his jedi/wizard/training. He is tested, during which he makes friends, enemies and comes to grip with just the beginning of his true origin. This is usually when comic relief is added and a few precious bits of dialogue that are not simply plot exposition.

Part of that origin is the story of the death of his actual family, and the decision by those who acted as surrogates to hide him away, in a basket in the water, in a home with muggles, at Bag End fishing, and on Tattoie fixing space pods racers and dealing with jawas. Discovery brings with it self knowledge and awareness of the family grudge score that has not yet been settled. Anger in the young prodgeny threatens to destroy his destiny, but with the aid of friends, a good woman, a faithful older man with a sword and a funny lovable side kick or two, he masters his emotions and his power.

In his final quest to rid the world or universe depending upon the genre, of evil, he will make mistakes and someone will be lost either through a betrayal or perceived betrayal, a mistake in judgement, or due to poor preparation on the part of our hero. He will stiffen his resolve and strengthen from this loss, as the female in his band suddenly discovers she finds him attractive and works to support his efforts in the quest.

The resulting giant climax between good and evil will take place only after the original plan to do something far more discreet fails, resulting in two of the following three things happening.
1) Death of villain, after he refuses mercy.
2) Final revelation of Villain and Hero’s relationship.
3) Conversion of villain, resulting in transformation of whole world.

Grand Finale wedding style feast which praises heroes, allows for the girls to kiss the boys, wounds to have been neatly cleaned up, and final cast of character bows with music, drums, firecrackers, food, wine, shiny medals and smiling faces.

This of course is top secret and usually what were unnecessary plot strings left unraveled will be pulled apart in the prequels and sequels that follow for oodles of dollars. Be sure to include some furry creatures in subsequent books/films, so as to garner profits from plush replicates purchased by fan boys everywhere.

Next week: The Guide to writing Romance: Hint...forbidden love,gives meaning to an otherwise bland existence that is pure duty and drudgery, which allows the individual loved to achieve artistic/personal fulfillment, even at the expense of everyone else in the world. Everyone else understands when that love, then surrendered for the good of the world, via death or honor, is discovered. Everone else except perhaps one or two immature individuals who exemplify selfishness and poor judgement in the story, gets the importance of this romance and views the affair as having been meaningful and necessary for the individual in question to achieve personhood.

Ordering Out

Going through a drive thru is rather like taking a leap of faith with my brood. Or at least, it used to be. I'd write the order as follows:

W: Big Mac, root beer
B: Ten Piece, Chocolate Shake
M: Mighty Kids Double Cheese, Chocolate Shake BOY Toy (even though she's a girl)
P: Mighty Kids Chicken Nug/BOY TOY ONLY, Chocolate Shake
F: Happy Meal Hamburger/GIRL TOY ONLY, Sprite
J: Happy Meal Cheeseburger/BOY TOY, Chocolate Milk, Apples
R: Happy Meal Hamburger, GIRL TOY, Chocolate Milk, Apples
Me: Diet Coke, resign self to eating whatever order got messed up.
Order four more hamburgers and two four pieces to cover the bases and sigh as oldest produces three dollars to buy six pies.

After writing things down and having errors, writing things down and handing it in and having errors, writing things down and having the kids change their minds, I placed an ultimatum, either cope with what comes or no more golden arches.

This quelled internal dissent at least publically, but getting people to hear the order took time. I considered running through the drive thru twice, as five seems to be the cut off at which the cashier assumes you're done. Instead, I've channeled my inner Julie Andrews.

It is fortunate for me that blogs have not yet progressed that you would hear my words in my own voice. Imagine I'm in tune and very musical.

"A flat please maestro."

They laugh and then they listen. And, I almost never get any mistakes anymore.

(Sung to the tune of twelve days of Christmas)

"For our drive up order please listen to me please

Three happy meals, 2 with hamburgers and one with just cheese.

We'd also like two chocolate milks and an apple juice for drink

and six apple pies!

One big mac meal. A ten piece too

And two Mighty Kids Meals.

One is Cheeseburger, the other chicken!

Three Medium Chocolate Shakes and One Root Beer

And for me a diet coke!

and four hamburgers and 2 chicken four piece

from the dollar menu.

And two girl and Three Boy Toys....."

My only issue is if the kids change the order.

Goodnight Everybody!

In Honor of My Sibling’s birthday.

Date: October 25, 1977.

The baby was coming two months ahead of schedule. Ignorant of how scary this might be, (after all, I was two months early too and here I was, a sixth grader and just fine), I felt happy to know I would find out soon; brother or sister.

My brothers and I got farmed out to our best friends’ homes respectively for the duration. Huzzah! Unrestricted time with peers is every adolescent’s dream; except this one came with a parent that was on a health kick.

Being a good friend, she tried to warn me, but it wasn’t like I had any choice. My parents were hi-tailing it two hours to the big hospital. I came psyched with my pj’s, tooth brush and clothes for the next three days.

Then we were served snack.

Raisins.

Raisins were something you stuck in oatmeal. Raisins were in cookies you ate only after all other options had been exhausted. Raisins were grapes gone bad.

“Can I have a drink?”

Her mom poured us each some water... without ice... from the tap.

As green and as healthy and as ecologically and economically friendly as this may have been, I was an unenlightened seventies sixth grader. This was Not a snack.

My friend meekly drank her luke warm tap water and gave me a “You know how They are” look. We ran to her room to listen to the Doobie Brothers, read Dynamite! and talk about Star Wars. For the next two hours, if one didn’t count the hunger pains, it was pure bliss. My best friend explained that her mother was trying to purge their family of impurities and warned that dinner might not be fun. I promised to be a gracious guest, being her best friend and all, we could tough it out.

Dinner was served.

I don’t think anyone has ever licked their lips in joy and anticipation at a meal like this, or if they have, common sense has prevailed enough that they haven’t gone public. I stared at the plate. The following is 100% unembellished unvarnished, ungarnished truth. Warning! Not for the squeamish or slightly queasy.

Liver: enemy of every respectable child without a gallon of ketchup at their side.
Pickled beets: I have family that eat these so I won’t insult their taste buds. That being said, I wasn’t happy.
Lima beans: My husband loves them. He serves them. I still won’t eat them.
Water. *Still from tap. Single feeble melting cube.

We sat down for grace before meals.

I admit, my prayer was silent and heart felt. “Please please God. Deliver me from this food.”

The phone rang as soon as we said “Amen.”

It was my Dad. I had a sister. Mary Jennifer. I was pumped to even up the score with my brothers. Then inspiration struck. I whooped to her family and gushed, “I have a sister! Oh, I’m too excited I can’t eat!” and ran up the stairs. My best friend saw opportunity and took it. “ME TOO!” she shouted and bolted after me.

I heard her brother and sister try the same stunt to no effect. We played cards until we were sure dinner had been put away. We laughed and snuck down around ten o’clock to feast on vanilla ice cream and Coca-cola.

“To Mary Jennifer!”
“To your sister!”

And the bubbly soda shot through our noses. Truly, it was a great celebration to be alive.

Happy Birthday Sis and many more! Pass the ice cream and soda please.