Writer’s Block

This is not actually a part of the Apocrypha, as it was written more recently. Also, it is set, in part, in a shared-world that belongs to the members of the Online Writing Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror, (a.k.a. the OWW), called Serendip'ity City. I make no claim on the elements of the story that are common. Any resemblance between characters in this story and actual persons living or dead falls under plausible deniability. Since the story is unpublishable due to the aforementioned elements (and I'm unwilling to alter them), it is bound to forever occupy that limbo between juvenalia or the trunk and the Published Works. Nevertheless, I offer for your delectation...

Alger said, "Dolly, please. Just stay out of my dreams."

Dolly bit her lip and turned her face away. She would be damned if she'd let him see her cry.

"We've been over and over this, Babe," the grizzled writer continued. "And you agreed to doing it this way. I took a year trying to write a short story or a novelette that could launch you in the pros. It didn't work. So now we're doing it my way."

"It's not fair!" she wailed. Even to her own ears, she sounded like a spoilt teenager.

"Life's not fair, Baby Doll," he shot right back.

"You're writing Drummond," she said, all j'accuse and everything.

"It's his story; how he came to be connected to you. Everybody around you has got one. Your Genesis was a remarkable event. It changed the lives of everyone involved, from Aphrodite and Hephaestus to Jeep, Witchlet, and Mab."

"Yeah, but..." she sniffed, getting ready to turn on The Waterworks. Not because it was a good tactic with Alger — it wasn't — but because there was this lump in her throat like a dry flour dumpling that she just couldn't choke down.

"I can't do good work if you keep popping into my head every time I sit down to write. I've got this big set-piece coming up and I haven't even started on blocking it out. The critters are going to lose interest if I don't keep posting new chapters. Plus: I need to refine the process of getting Jeep and Witchlet into Upothesa..."

"What?" she said, incredulous. "They're both on the faculty of the Center."

"Sure they are — now. But back before Aphrodite brought you across, they were just a couple of teenage girls. Witchlet was fresh out of the Thaum and Jeep was a skinny little rapscallion from the slums of Glasgow."

Dolly giggled.

"What?" he demanded.

"Rapscallion. Tee hee. Sounds like a tuber or somethin'." She wrinkled her nose and did the dimple thing.

His eyes softened and got a little moist. He gazed at her out of a puppy-dog expression.

"Dang, Dolly! You're so cute when you do that."

She bounced her eyebrows and stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth while grinning evilly at him.

"Cute, huh?" she purred. "I could forgive a lot if you said that..."

"I can't," Alger said with a sigh. "You need to leave me alone. I have to concentrate on this book. Next year, we'll do yours. I promise."

She did a little half-stomp and flounced around in a circle, making a sound in her throat that was half-whimper, half-growl.

"Oo!" Alger exclaimed. "Do that again! I want to get it down!"

"What?" She was outraged. How could he be writing sketches about her when she felt this way? But she obliged, repeating when he demanded it, feeling a bit like a DVD player who'd been taken over by a bratty kid with remote-finger.

"So: are you gonna write me?" she asked. She stood at kibitzing distance behind his shoulder and tried to read what he was writing. As usual, because it was about her, she couldn't make it out. The eye cannot see itself, he'd 'splained to her a while back.

"No," he murmured, distracted, his fingers flying over his keyboard. "I wanna use that little flounce-y thing for Aglaia. I'm doing a scene with her..."

"Aglaia? That insipid bint! You're writing her?"

Alger glanced up at her, blinking, looking confused. "Well, she is Nana 'Dite's protégéé..."

"But she's such a... a..."

"Dolly, she's supposed to be an a... a... She's the youngest Grace. She's spent most of the last ten thousand years taking a Nap. There has to be contrast between her and Aphrodite — not to mention her and Pauhlün. 'Sides: not everybody can be a buff superhero like you."

"I am pretty buff, ain't I," Dolly allowed with a sly grin.

"And buff pretty, too." He smiled back at her. It reminded her of Drummond when Alger smiled at her like that. Which made sense, since Drummond was Alger and Alger was Drummond. Which reminded her...

"So," she said — again; Dolly is nothing if not persistent. "Are you gonna write me a scene? Maybe a quiet, romantic evening with Drummond? Or how 'bout some hot monkey-love? Been awhile since you wrote one of those."

"Probably be longer, too, if you don't stop distracting me. No. I'm not going to write you. I'm especially not going to write you a stroke scene. I don't need the distraction. I'm working on the novel. I won't write you until this one is finished. The next one is about you. Now, just... go away."

"Ooo! You!" Dolly growled. She tried to storm out, but the house was sealed so tight that air pressure kept her from getting a good slam going with the door.

"Fardles!" she spat as she pulled the door shut. She stomped down off the porch and off into the night.

Back in his little writing cubby, Alger wiped sweat from his metaphorical brow.

"Man, is she high-maintenance!" Then: "Shinola!" He bolted out of his chair and raced to the front door.

"Where are you going?" he shouted at her retreating back.

And took a moment to appreciate the flip of her hip and the sway of her copper-gold hair.

She turned and glared at him. "The Serendip." As if it's any of your business, by your leave.

A quick glance at the tray on the table by the door confirmed his fear...

"Wait!" he called, picking up the big, blue, laminated credential on its dog-tag chain. "You forgot your pass!"

"Firk that; fork them; fark you!" she flipped him the bird — backhanded, going away. There was a flash as the warp-portal at the end of The Lane accepted her.

And she was gone. She left behind her the scent of her Wind Song and the memory of her beauty.

His heart aching, Alger nevertheless turned back indoors, hoping to finally be able to get some work done.

...

Continued...

Apocrypha Table of Contents

Ordinarily, authors don't publish their "trunk" stories — those stories they cannot or will not sell. But these stories of the Dolly Apocrypha were effectively written in public. They were composed in 1500-word chunks, as posts on a mailing list. They have been on the Web almost since they were first written. Withholding them now would be kind of churlish. And... I hope that they can bring a few people some joy.

Recent developments in the publishing arena make it feasible for me to publish these stories without having to face the gatekeepers of the publishing industry in New York. Leaving aside the question of whether this is wise, I am pleased to let it be known that I am preparing to publish a heavily revised version of the Apocrypha — call it Apocrypha 2.0 — in ebook formats (Kindle, Nook, et al) sometime before the end of 2012. Thus it is then that one may come to think of the stories as they have been published on the Web these last 12 years as the first draft of what someday will be the final version of the Dolly Apocrypha. Sometime also in 2012, I hope to have paper edition(s) available as well. Watch this space and at BabyTrollBlog

Also sometime in the future (I hope in the NEAR future), Dolly and I will seek professional publication of The Dolly Canon — stories purpose-written for publication, at (one hopes) a higher level of quality and professionalism. Friends have read the stories as they stand: Geppetto's Log, Genesis, Armed Citizen, The Omega Trilogy (Deicide in Irian Jaya, You Could Spend Years, The Next Story). All have much work to be done on them to bring them to an acceptable level of quality. I offer this here in the hopes that these will expand beyond the mere 15 pastiches here into an admirable body of work. Additionally, all of the thought I have put into this whole ball of wax has persuaded me that there may be yet a THIRD story arc — call it the Continuing Adventures of Gabrielle Dolly — and a FOURTH — call those The Adventures of Gabrielle Godslayer. As I say, watch this space and the blog.

Content: Being as this is created by and for fans of a violent television show that had a notorious following of people who are interested in sex, (as if there is anybody who is not interested in sex), it's a pretty safe bet that, even though this story is not about the characters in the show, there's plenty of both. There is also some language that some may find offensive and will tut-tut about. Too bad. That's what the off-button is for. Nobody is forcing you to read this. Exercise your freedom of choice. Everybody else: enjoy!

All original works, articles, and images are the property of their creators. Reuse is not permitted. Reproduction of original works, likenesses, or trademarks without permission is a violation of Federal law and international treaties and is subject to prosecution, and to civil and criminal penalties.

There is none of that wishy-washy open-source crap here. This stuff is mine. I made it. I intend to defend it vigorously. Infringe on my copyrights at your own moral peril.

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