New Website

Hello loyal followers (I seriously need punctuation that represents tongue-in-cheek sarcasm),

This blog is now located at www.synonymsandsuch.com!

I will leave all of the content on this page, but new posts will ONLY be made at the new site.

*sniffle*
I'm gonna miss this place.

On Finishing! The Ten Stages of Finishing and Some Stats.

Yesterday, somewhere in the yawning abyss of time between 4:30 and 5:30, I finished the "first" draft of my mystery novel, They Called Her La Llorona.

This is the third or fourth novel draft that I've finished in my lifetime (not really counting other iterations of this particular book), and I've come to realize that, for me at least, finishing a draft is a very mixed experience. Here is my list of the ten stages of finishing, in no particular order.

1. Disbelief. This can't really be the end, can it? *scroll through entire document, looking for a reason to keep writing*

2.Relief. I actually finished, dammit. I beat the odds and this won't be another half-written tale in the pile of shame under my bed.

3.  Euphoria. I AM WRITER! HEAR ME ROAR!

4. Doubt. There is so much left to do, should I even be celebrating this minor milestone?

5. Defensiveness. OF COURSE I SHOULD BE CELEBRATING, SELF. How many people ACTUALLY write 72000 words that GO TOGETHER IN SOME CRAZED SEMBLANCE OF ORDER AND INTENT?

6. Lack of Direction. My purpose, my raison d'etre has been THIS PROJECT for the past however many months and or years. Now what?

7. A Million Possibilities. Now, one of those other projects tumbling around on my bigger-on-the-inside noggin can come out to play. Which one to choose?

8. Hope. Because, despite the amount of revision I KNOW I will soon be doing, some of my words are actually pretty dern good, if I may say so myself.

9. Overwhelmed. There are a million more things to do now, like the writing of query letters and synopses and dedications...

10. FEEL ALL THE FEELS! AT THE SAME TIME! MY HEAD IS GOING TO EXPLODE.

Ehem.

Excuse me while I stuff all of these reactions back into my pocket and give them a stern talking-to.

Okay, Righty-O then.

THEY CALLED HER LA LLORONA is currently 72,200 words long, and will probably reach 80,000 by the end of the revision process. Probably more exciting than that, to me, is the fact that I wrote this entire draft in A LITTLE OVER THREE MONTHS.

I don't think I've ever written a faster draft without a co-writer.

I'm gonna go dance around my house, now. THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

Zombies and "Inaction": A Couple of Posts**

Sometime in the fairly recent past (time is a jumble to me because of the SHEER MADNESS that was graduate school), I wrote a couple of blog posts for my writing pal, A.L. Brown. They are linked below. Click them. Read them. Love them. Send me virtual lemon bars as a reward. Call off the demon assassins you summoned to attack me for not posting frequently enough. Or ignore them.

Shrug.

See it I care. (I *DO* care! Don't abandon me!)

On That New, Undead Fad: Zombies, a brief-ish post that tries to answer the age old question: why in the name of all that is good would anyone write about such rotten people (pun very much intended)? Also, I love zombie movies, but when I state in this post that "I really like... Survival of the Dead," the fairly recent George Romero flick, what I really mean is *coughitsuckedcough* I found the premise slightly intriguing.

When the Action Fades: What We Write About When "Nothing" Is Happening. The title is pretty much self explanatory (almost wrote examinatory, which would change the entire arc of that post). I think it's chock full of my own slightly demented brand of dry humor, and not at all as boring as the title might make it sound. But don't take my word for it [cue Reading Rainbow montage].

**This post goes well with ice-cream. Or wine. I suggest wine. Merlot, to be exact. Mmmm. Merlot.

Tricksy Hobbitses: Tricks, Treats, and the Craft of Writing

When you're a writer, a real writer who doesn't just have delusions of grandeur but actually acts on those delusions, you are all about one thing: writing to completion. Well, you're actually about lots of things, like reading and rainy days and coffee and, oh yeah, that crazy little thing called revision. (You though I was going to say "love," didn't you? Well, I've got news for you: most writers are sociopaths.* They are really good at mimicking emotion but it's all fake. Fake, I tell you! Now, don't tell my husband I said that. He already looks at me sideways a little bit too much).

But, to get back to the very nice focus I had before my little aside, writers have one important task to accomplish before they can do anything else (by which I mean bask in the glory of publication and fame). One word looms large in the writer's vocabulary, and that word is finish.

Except it's usually plastered is letters six foot tall in every nook and cranny of your squirrely little mind. Because you'd rather be in facebook. Or twitter. Or tumblr. Any of those blackholes of awesome procrastination.

FINISH. FINISH. FINISH. FINISH. FINISH.

Yeah, I'm a big believer in visuals. Mostly because we live in a very visual society, not because I'm much of a visual person. When I "watch" TV, I'm usually actually listening to the show and doing something else, glancing at the screen every once in a while when it sounds like something interesting is happening. But I am a writer, therefore I am a strange individual.

While we're on that subject, let me just tell you a secret. It is hard to finish things. It is hard to finish a draft; it would be easier to pull out all of my hair and light it on fire. In front of toddlers. And then pay for their therapy for the rest of their lives, even though I would have to get twenty-five more jobs to do that.

Why? Because the voices in my head want to be creative and free-spirits and all of that hippy-dippy, happy happy joy joy crap. Which means that I end up spending hours on pinterest looking at pictures of other people's tattoos, hours reading other people's books and other people's writing tips, hours scribbling notes to myself about my stories instead of actually writing, and etc.

Now, I don't buy into the whole muse thing, mostly because my Muse is almost always on vacation (I think she's in Hawaii this year. You might remember her trip to Greece, if you are one of my two longterm readers). If I relied on Muse, I'd never get anything done. Ever. Because when she's around she's really needy. She wants Ben and Jerry's (Coffee Heath Crunch is her favorite) and Doctor Who episodes and online shopping sprees.

My Muse is expensive.

So, in lieu of throws of creativity and artistic passion, I trick myself. And then I growl at myself like Gollum, cursing my tricksiness and my treachery and the loss of my precious...

But I digress. I trick myself into finishing in a very specific way: I maintain the illusion of freedom. I don't keep a set work station. I have two "formal" writing spots in my house and, most of the time, I end up working somewhere else. Like at my kitchen table so that I am close to the coffee. Or the living room floor, using the coffee table as a makeshift desk. Or the front porch in late afternoon, when there is shade and the roaster-oven that is the New Mexico summer is beginning to cool and I can watch the sun set and listen to the birds chirp in terror as they try to evade the ridiculous number of stray cats that seem to live in my neighborhood. Seriously. There are at least thirty.

I trick myself into thinking that I am free and unfettered by simply taking advantage of portable means of writing (it doesn't have to be a laptop, a notebook will do in a pinch) and, for some reason, even though I know I am tricking myself, it seems to work.

Tricksy hobbitses. Filthy hobbitses. My precious. My precious draft. It's finished.

*When I say most writers are sociopaths, I mean it because it is statistically 100% true.** And I'm good at math.***

**Writers have a tendency to lie. Especially this writer. It comes of stringing words together with all the intensity of an Obsessive Compulsive on Ritalin. 

***My lawyer (who may not actually exist) insists that I mention that I am not, in actuality, all that good at math. I shudder at the sight of numbers, especially when they come with this weird sign: %

My-Novel-Writing-Month (or My-No-Wri-Mo)

Hello dear readers, it is I, The Crazy Writer, or, you know, Courtney.

I'm writing today because I've made it my goal to finish my mystery novel BY THE END OF JUNE. *Cue lighting and thunder as if by celestial decree*

No, seriously, it's thunderstorm season in New Mexico and I am not being dramatic. Those words have been heard and acknowledged by the gods.

Spooky.

Anyway, here's the story (and the details):

About, eh, five years ago, when I was still a lowly undergraduate at my local university, it occurred to me that I should write a novel, and that I should set that novel in my lovely home state. Why, you ask? Because I stumbled onto wordharvest.com, the former web HQ for the Tony Hillerman Prize (which can now be found here: http://www.hillermanprize.com/).

Since that fateful day, I have worked through not one, not two, but THREE iterations of the novel. Refining characters, throwing out crazy/newbie-mystery-writer-plots as I went. I also finished an undergraduate and a graduate degree during this time period, which in part accounts for the ridiculous amount of time I have spent just trying to find my story. I mean, you'd think after five years I would at least have a polished draft and a half-a-dozen rejections letters from literary agents. But no, I've got diddly squat (by which I mean, 10,150 words as of this afternoon).

And that is okay, because mystery is a hard genre to write (for all of the scoffing people do that it is "formulaic," it takes planning, anal attention to detail, an excellent sense of realism, and an obscene amount of research to produce a well crafted mystery novel). I view this time as my apprenticeship, which I hope does not smack of hubris, because I won't claim I'm done learning. Ever.

But, at this point, I  have a plot that not only works but works well. I know my characters and I know which ones have the most to lose, what motivates them, and what they need to go through as the plot progresses. I have finally figured this all out *crosses fingers* and I think it is time to get this baby written and polished and sent into the world.

I started this month with a mere 3365 words on this draft. In the past two days, I have more than tripled that. My goal is to write a MINIMUM of 15,000 words a week. I will update here and/or on Twitter (@cannfloyd) as I progress.

One-liners...The Writer's Pick Up Line and More

After two weeks of the post-graduation (that's right, I'm a Master now) watching of stupid TV shows (read: decompression), I've finally been feeling up to writing again. Specifically, I feel like working on my southwestern mystery, which is tentatively titled They Called Her La Llorona.

What does this mean? I've been rethinking my mystery plot and tweaking it to be amazing--no questions asked. It also means that I've been a doing bunch of  craft/plot related research as well. And this flurry of activity has reminded me of something I once knew but had forgotten (or, you know, arrogantly disregarded):

It helps to start your plotting with a one-liner (or a tagline, if you're in showbiz).

If you don't believe me, just keep reading. Thinking about a one-liner has forced me to rethink the beginning of my novel: the inciting incident. Turns out, I started my story in the wrong place. It also made me rethink POV. I'd been writing a third-person POV, which would have been okay if I were writing a thriller (which this could be, admittedly, if I weren't so stubborn in my vision) but is not necessarily the best choice in a more hard-boiled, P.I. style novel.

That said, I'm way too close to the problem to unbiasedly decide which one-liner is the most intriguing and  works best for my story. That's where you come in. I'm listing the rough one-liners I've come up with so far. I'd love it if you, my loyal audience, would chime in with your opinion:

1. Confronted with a string of bizarre murders made to look like drownings, recently retired Marshal, Jesse Clacher, must track down a killer and set things right with his wife and daughter--before more women die. 
2. When a barefoot Hispanic woman in a tattered, white dress stumbles into town wailing about the death of her children, retired Marshal Jesse Clacher is forced to seek the help of his estranged daughter in order solve the case and save the woman.
3. When La Llorona crashes his retirement party wailing about the deaths of two young girls, Jesse Clacher sees it as an opportunity to start his P.I. business--and make peace with his estranged daughter.

 Personally, I like #2 the best, with #1 coming in a close second. But I think that #3 is interesting because of its unexpectedness (which may or may not be good, considering that I'm aiming for more of a hard-boiled feel and less of a comedic style like a cozy or a caper).

Which do you like best and why?

Writing About Trolls, or Troll-Vial Pursuit

I recently lost two week long word wars to my writer pal, A.L. Brown. But she was exceedingly gracious and allowed me to write a couple of blog posts related to one of my current WIPS: The Monster in My Pocket.

Below, you can read excerpt from the novel, from the point of view of my favorite troll, Brug. You can read the related blog post here. Look forward to another excerpt and another linked blog post, soon.

Chapter One

     Deep in the mountain-spotted wilderness, sometimes the scent of wild oregano beckons like a siren across hills and fields where antelope romp freely.

     It's a haunting scent to some, the ghost of something that has no real right to exist: civilization, humanity. But it means more--it means that the smeller has stumbled into a place truly remote, surrounded by evergreens and elderly, weather-beaten quaking aspens.

     And though the filthy city has trammeled its way into our realm, soiling it with warehouses and cities, overtaking our mines and depleting our vast wealth, our realm in this place remains.

     This is the realm of the night-dance, where the wild things wait to snare half-suspecting victims or haggle between themselves for the right to swindle and befuddle, to loot and rampage.

     Tonight it is my night. 

The Minutia Of Writing Fight Scenes: Episode 1 | Three Types Of Action

Welcome to Courtney’s Blog, I’m you guest host for today. As payment for losing a word count battle Out of the kindness of my heart, I am here to address a very simple question: How does one go about writing good fight scenes? (And accordingly, why would anyone ask me?)

The latter query may be addressed here. For the former, and primary, keep reading.

There are undoubtedly many differing methods for writing a fight scene and countless opinions on what constitutes a good one. To begin, let me try to sum up what I think makes a fight scene claw its way to the top of the heap. 

Realism. Or in some cases, call it believability. Whether we’re talking about a little old lady, a Spetsnaz veteran, or a big pink mountain troll, the reader wants to be convinced that the battle is real and possible in whatever universe his or her head is in at the moment. 

Pacing = Fast. Good fight scenes are page-turning at its best, and for some of us, reason enough to sludge through a few too many chapters of dialogue and all those other boring non-fight scenes. 

Length = Just Right. Too quick and the reader is disappointed and confused, too long and you lose realism and pacing. Give the readers time to get involved and in the swing of things, then go on long enough to wonder, and just before it gets repetitive, end it. Got it? Me neither.

Since this topic is really an endless can of kung fu worms, and one of the few things that I can actually write about in a rather long-winded fashion, this post is about to get really specific. 

 Here's a great scene from Jack Reacher to get us in the right mood.

Three Types Of Action: An Analysis Of A Character’s Fighting Style

As I perceive fighting, there are three types of action that a combatant may take. 

                A Planned Action, an Impromptu Action, or a Reaction. 

The first two are basically offensive, while the last is almost always in defense or at least in response to an offensive action by the opponent. A fight scene does not require all three, but it will likely have them. The key component of a planned action is restraint, arbitrary parameters that limit a combatant’s actions and reactions. An impromptu action is not necessarily unplanned, but unrestrained.(Jack Reacher is a great example of this, he is a big planner, but he rarely holds much back.) The difference in severity and intent between planned and impromptu responses, as well as the cause of shift, can show a great deal about a character’s ideas, principles, familiarity, and skill when it comes to violence. 

By examining these three items, the fighting style of any character can be determined. Let us consider this scene. The setup is fairly simple. We have two characters in a dark alley who end up fighting each other. This, on the surface, sounds way too clichéd to even bother with, but it’s all in the execution. That’s why I like this example. It is completely free of special effects or any other arbitrary factors that might make an otherwise dull fight seem more exciting.

Let’s look at Cass, the point of view character and the protagonist. She begins with all planned actions. Even though neither the battlefield nor the opponent is known to her, she thinks she understands the level of danger and therefore plans her level of response. 

“ She smiled as she realized that hadn't nearly killed a couple of innocents. Now the fun could begin. Time to put on a show.”

Then, after enough scene setting, the first kink in her plans appears.

“Cass was expecting the man called Marco to drag Anne out of the car. She was momentarily surprised when he reached for her. She continued to feign unconsciousness while the big man maneuvered her out of the car. He unceremoniously dropped her on the ground several feet away before returning to slam the door closed. “

Now, let’s skip to my favorite part, the actual fighting. This is first actions that each of the combatants take. Planned actions. Cass has planned to put on a show and not injure her opponent, who she thinks is an actor.

Marco, on the other hand is planning to hurt her and maybe even rape her. His actions are planned based on the assumption that Cass is a victim and not likely to be a problem. The manner and mood with which each approach the fight is in each case unwise, yet very revealing.

““Come here,” he grunted. Cass raised her arms slowly, in what might be confused with a surrendering gesture. She stopped just of arm’s length. He was reaching out to grab her when she raised her eyes. He hesitated when she met his gaze. Cass attacked.

She threw a ridiculously slow, but pretty kick towards his head, trying to play along with the drama level she'd observed so far. He ducked, and she followed with a double roundhouse. He dodged the first kick, but caught the second. With impressive strength, he threw her against the alley wall.”

Now, for Cass, little has changed in the way of her planning, she is still controlled, unconcerned.

"You stupid girl. Now I'm mad. I was gonna make it quick." He shook his head and pulled out the Glock.”

Marco reacts, escalating the fight, Cass’s dramatic resistance being the apparent cause, but perhaps not the only one. I like to think that he sensed more than he saw and became cautious and instinctively wary of Cass. Pulling the gun was a reaction, an instinctive response. This, to me, indicates that he is not comfortable with hand-to-hand combat and prefers the perceived advantage of a gun--and possibly, that he fears Cass for some reason...

 “Cass tried to overcome the instinctive urge to try and kill the man.” 

And right on cue, we get to see what Cass wants to do. Her reaction is simple and demonstrates how deep her head-on personality goes. It also, indicates a familiarity with firearms, and a lack of the irrational fear that some might feel. This also shows us her level of self-control. Instead of killing the man she still thinks is an actor, she restrains her reaction and moves back to planning.

“She kept telling herself it was not a real gun right up until he the bullet tore through her left thigh. Cass looked down, shocked. It must have been a solid core 9mm hollow-point, because it went right on through. It hurt like the dickens, but she could hardly feel it. She was angry and that made her focused, focused like the laser beam mounted on the rail of her very own Glock 19, back home in the safe.”

"Now you won't be trying any of that kung fu crap on me, babe. Let's have some fun."

He moved towards her, teeth bared, and a look in his eye that said he wasn't going to kill her right away. The moment he'd fired that gun, Cass had forgotten all about the show or anything else other than the right here and now. She was no longer playing by any rules.”

And there it is, the shift, the final escalation. Cass is ready to take impromptu action without restraint and there will be no reactions called off anymore. This is where the actual fight begins for Cass. She now understands. Both combatants are now part of the same battle.

“She'd pulled herself up into a sitting position, her back against the grimy brick wall, her hands curled up against her left shoulder. She kept her eyes glued to her target as she waited for him to get close enough. The seconds were eternities as he walked up, then knelt down over her. He reached out with his free hand and felt of her hair. His other hand, still holding the gun, was against the ground, helping to hold him up. It was the end. 

Notice that she is not planning anything specific, she is more focused on the target and the result. This, to me is characteristic of impromptu mode. She is probably considering many possibilities as she has been prone to do before this, but she does not remove any from play. She will take action when she sees opportunity and she will do what can be done to create opportunity.

Cass's tied hands moved in unison towards their target, one just an inch behind the other. The edge of her right hand struck the big man’s throat. The other hand followed it, adding the strength of her other arm. A blow that was dangerous with one hand became deadly with two. There was a wet sound as he tried to breathe through his partially crushed trachea.”

Here we see what happens when Cass takes unrestrained action. She acts quickly, and with no finesse. She goes straight for the throat (ha ha) and lands a nasty, but effective blow.

“His jerked back to his feet, hands instinctively grabbing at his neck, trying to ease the pain. Cass was free and the gun was out of play. She stood and set herself against the wall, using it to steady her injured leg long enough to kick with the other. The kick wasn't pretty, or high, or any of the other things that look good on a television screen. It was only nasty. Cass's foot nailed him right above the groin.  He took a step back, still searching for air, then he collapsed, no longer capable of standing.”

Cass is now in control, and she pushes her advantage, taking the extra time she has garnered to make another attack and seal her victory. 

“Cass fell down, unable to maintain the balance needed to recover without both legs working. She got her good leg under her and picked up the gun, but there was no need for it. The kick, as intended, had not only knocked the wind from her enemy, but dislodged the cartilage connection of the pelvis, damaging the structural integrity of his body. He was not going anywhere.”

So, let’s sum up what we know about the fighting style of each of these combatants.

Cass

                Planned: Controlled, unwilling to hurt others, uses kicks, showy ,dramatic.
                What this tells me: She has a reason not to escalate the fight herself. She is skilled and prefers using her legs in a fight. This strongly suggests a background in martial arts and especially a kicking art such as taekwondo. 

                Reaction: Lethal, focused, steady.
                What this tells me: I see an immediate understanding of weapons and the level of danger. Also, Cass clearly has no compunctions about using deadly force to defend herself. She is very in-control of her reactions/impulses and aware of her surroundings/perceived situation even under stress.

                Impromptu: Calm, reasonable, decisive, and deadly. Able to use hands, and feet. Not showy, brutal and efficient.
                What this tells me: The contrast between the efficient, ugly techniques here and the showy stuff earlier demonstrates her depth of skill and understanding of her martial art. She shows confidence in her ability and especially her leg by choosing to leave the gun out of play. We see that she knows how to be lethal and that she will be when she decides to be. No hesitation. Makes us think that she has been in a similar situation before. 

Cass’s fake (planned) fighting style: Martial arts, preference for showy kicks, non-lethal, controlled, inefficient.

Cass’s true (impromptu) fighting style: Martial arts, preference for kicking attacks, efficient, precise, unyielding. 

Cass’s instinctive  (reaction) style: ?, deadly. (this scene didn’t tell us much more than that)

As for her opponent, I’ll leave the summation up to you. If I do all the work, you might forget what was going on here. My philosophy on teaching (honed in the sacred halls of martial arts) has a huge hands-on component, so go for it. Tell me about Marco’s fighting style.

If you have any questions or comments for, me, the author of this lengthy post, don’t be shy. Only Chuck Norris can kick you through the internet and I am not Chuck Norris. (I can only kick people over a basic LAN.)

For more on techniques and tricks for writing fight scenes (or writing other things), check my blog: Tough Target.

Updates on the Word War, and...Check this Out!

My friend A.L. Brown and I just finished week three of our word war (which she won, by the way, because I spent my writing time today working on a brand new blog project--but I'm getting ahead of myself).

Here are my thoughts so far: the word war has helped salvage an otherwise barren period of my writing year. It is hard to write during the holidays, as agent Rachelle Gardner notes in this post, and I don't think I would have written 8,000 shiny new words if it hadn't been for this little duel between writing buddies. I know, 8,000 is a pretty small number. But holiday writing time is pretty sparse, and when you're a writer who is trying to finish a Master's degree, take classes, and still have a bit of time with the family/friends/husband, you take anything you can get as far as word count goes.

That said, I aim to beat some writer butt in next week's word war. You can follow my progress via my Twitter account--just search for @Cannfloyd.

AND NOW FOR MY AWESTRIKINGLY AWESOME ANNOUNCEMENT:

I started a book blog.

A book blog that is actually my personal reading journal, in which I will chronicle ALL of the books I read this year and provide information like reading times and my impressions. I'm pretty sure I can read 150 books this year, easy. So call that my unofficial goal. I've also asked some pretty amazing people to join me as guest bloggers to help broaden the material on the blog, and also to help construct a section of the blog that is intended to help English grad students prep for dreaded Comprehensive Exams and/or GRE lit sections.

Check it out here: Read, Scribble, Revise

The Things We Do For the Love of Writing

We've talked about writer's block frequently on this blog, and I've slandered my muse in such discussions more times than I can count. Now, though, the time for talk is over. It is time to fight back.

Taking into account my competitive nature and the fact that writing is such a solitary activity, I've decided to team up with my writing buddy, A.L. Brown, to push my way past the writing doldrums I've fallen into yet again.

The plan:
1) daily wordcount updates, posted via Twitter.
2) weekly summaries of the writing experience (posted on blog and linked to Twitter) coupled with a weekly wordcount total to determine the winner.
3) loser owes winner a guest post on winner's blog (or dinner, the prize may vary).
4) repeat weekly...

Let the games begin!

A Part-Time Heretic's Guide to Small-Town Living*, Part One

    It's Sunday morning. The birds are chirping, the sun is slanting in through your crooked window shade, and from somewhere outside a chorus of slamming car-doors greets your ears. You glance at the clock. It is only 10 am.

     Welcome to life in the Bible-belt. You live across the street from one of your small town's many (and I do mean many) churches. There's no helping it, really. There is almost-literally a church on every corner. And the corners without churches usually host convenience stores. If you like your Sundays of the lazy variety, this may be a problem for you. What you need is a strategy, and someone experienced to help you create that strategy.

     You are in luck.

     I will be your tour guide to life on these pot-hole ridden streets. I'm a long time resident, you see.

     Consider me the slightly nasal voice of reason. By the time we're through, you may want to look into relocating--possibly to one of those nice locations they advertise, quite conveniently, on the sides of U-haul trucks.

     But we should really get started. Time is of the essence, because in small towns everything shuts down early on Sundays--well, everything except Walmart.

     Before the day is over, you will know everything you need to know to make it in this town--especially if you are a fast learner and take my first piece of advice to heart:

Booze:

     In the Bible-belt, dry counties are the rule rather than the exception. If you want to stay sane, you should develop a strategy for the procurement and maintenance of a booze stash. Practically speaking, this means that you should do your "grocery" shopping before Sundays roll around. Because, although you can now purchase alcohol in restaurants and bars on the Lord's day, you cannot purchase it and take it home.

     You probably feel perplexed, if not slightly annoyed and disgusted at this fact. It has often flummoxed me as well. It would seem that city ordinance encourages public drunkenness to an unsettling degree. Why prevent people from drinking in their homes? Why force them to make a spectacle of themselves while they attempt to drown their sorrows and keep their sanity? The answer is elusive; that this blue law is allowed to persist is beyond me--although I suspect that the religious figures and upstanding citizens responsible for it must be firm believers in the doctrine of public confession of sins...

     It may have occurred to you that this ordinance wreaks havoc on a national pastime that smalltowners hold in deep reverence: Sunday night football. If you, like so many of your new neighbors and fellow citizens, are a football lover, the strategy I've suggested is vital to your happiness in this small town. Superbowl Sunday, after all, is only a shell of a celebration without a nice, cold brew in hand.

Entertainment:

     I hope you did not forget your appetite when you moved to this booming metropolis. From here on out, your primary form of entertainment will consist of eating-out or drinking. That's right, other than a few events (mostly musical in nature), this small town offers good, clean, wholesome fun in an edible form.

     If you happen to be an innovator, then you may not feel the absence of typical entertainment venues (such as a movie theater, a bowling alley, a skating rink, or even a bookstore) so drastically. This is because you will be too busy entertaining yourself at the expense of your neighbors and fellow citizens.

     If you are not an innovator, I suggest that you learn how to entertain yourself as quickly as possible. I'll give some suggestions as to where you might start:

• Develop your eccentricities. A good friend of mine recently began channeling her witch-like inclinations--cackling, reading musty tomes aloud, lighting thousands of candles, chanting to the moon, and more cackling--in order to make her life a better place and scare away some of the less reputable elements of small town society--thieves, drug-dealers, neighborhood busybodies, and junkies.

• Invent your own logic. Instead of groaning about the mundane nature of your new reality, you can take that reality and make it interesting. That cable van that's been outside of your neighbor's house all morning? The driver is really an FBI agent. See, isn't that better?

• Mess with people's heads. Instead of responding politely, honestly, and predictably to everyday conversation, make things up. Become a storyteller. Sure, you may lose a stodgy friend or two, but the people who still like you afterward will be the more...colorful...type.

Today's small town tour is now complete. Check back next week, same time and same place, for  the next leg of the tour...

*Disclaimer: some advice contained herein may be a selfish attempt to drive away new residents so that the small town can remain small. It may or may not be funded by the city planners. Lawyers may or may not have advised this disclaimer.