Scarface 1932 She's very nice...

What is it about creepy sexy guys?

Paul Muni defines creepy sexy to me in the 1932 version of Scarface.  The combination of childish enthusiasm and unbridled confidence often result in a weird sense of playful menace.  He's totally unselfconcious.  The guy has no idea he's a monster and is just having a ball.

Showing Poppy around his swanky new apartment, Tony asks her how she likes it.

Poppy: Kind of gaudy, isn't it? 
Tony Camonte: Ain't it though? Glad you like it. 

He puts the moves on his boss's gal the moment he sees her, never stopping to consider what the consequences might be, or even if she seems to want him.  His physical drive extends outside of his body surrounding him with a kind of animal charisma that is simultaniously attractive and repellant.  You can see its affect on Poppy as she moves toward him and backs off repeatedly. 

In real life, guys like Tony either end up with hit TV shows or volitile political careers.  I prefer to enjoy them in their fully fictional forms.  There's a little bit of Paul Muni's Tony Camonte in my Romeo.  

But of course, Romeo has a lot more class.

The Troubles

The trouble with solitude, is that I like it too much.  If I get some, I want more.  It's too easy for me to drift off and forget how to talk.  I'm a genius at watching from the edge of the crowd.  I know how to disappear like a pro.

But in this past year, I've found myself at odds with my need for solitude.  My process as a writer has grown a different set of needs and wants.  I found other writers.  I found people who opened my eyes to new ways of seeing what I do and who gave me encouragement and motivation to try harder.  I've watched people I admire put the time and effort into growing their skills, and then throw themselves out there with will and purpose.  Their success inspires me greatly.  Their kindness towards other writers inspires me no less.

The trouble with perfection, is that it can be selfish and mean.  It takes something fine and good and runs it into the ground for merely being fine and good.  There's a difference between having high standards, and strangling the runts.  Wanting to spend my life creating and becoming more accomplished is healthy.  Wanting everything I do to be brilliant is arrogant and very tiring.  

I know some brilliant people.  Artists with so much natural talent it just makes your jaw drop.  Deeply troubled, deeply angry people whose creative gifts are withering on the vine.  Because nothing is ever good enough.  

They've inspired me, too.  I've learned from the ghost of future yet to come.  I'm doing my level best not to turn into an angry strangler.  I figure a good approach is to just feed and pet the runts and let them grow up wall-eyed or pigeon-toed or unexpectedly swan gorgeous, and keep in mind that I can't really take credit for all of it anyway.

Which brings me to, the trouble with ambition.  There's always more to do and a better way to do it.  Waiting until everything is just how I want it to be has often times left me unable to enjoy the here and now.  For example, wanting to have a fancy, beautifully designed website that does a dozen different things made me forget why I needed a website to begin with.  Because I'm a writer... (not a website designer) and I need to stay connected to other people.

So, while it is my ambition to develop a visually stunning blend of audio, art, photography and literature on my site, I don't want to lose touch with my readers, my friends and my peers.  This simple stripped down site is the result of me hitting the reset button.  It is a work in progress that will change, but in the meantime will serve to display my words and hopefully allow me to get back the sense of the connection I had going on six months ago.  

I'm not going to go all hippy and ask for a group hug here.  I just want you all to know I appreciate every damn thought you share with me.  And I'm still here.

Oh, and Romeo sends his regards.  We've come to an understanding.  As long as I'm honest with him about it, he's agreed I can write about other people.  The damn fool.  He's got nothing to worry about, he's the one I always go home to.  

So, what have you guys been up to?  Got any news to share? 

Don't Worry About Pamila

She's doing just fine. I got her all set up in a nice little room with no distractions. As long as she does her work on my story, I even feed her every once in a while.

As soon as she's done, she'll come out to play. Oh, and she asked me to wish you all a Happy New Year.

Regards,

Romeo

It's Come To This: Romeo Has A Gun To My Head

November is a heavy month. Día de los Muertos and All Souls Day are traditionally the time to reflect on those we've lost. Autumn is the time to look back, to assess. The harvest is in, the earth has been turned over, the scarecrow has gone into the flames and all our grand plans have come back to haunt us. The veil between the worlds is thin, they say, and the ghosts will speak if you tune your ears and listen.

Well, my ghosts are screaming. Specifically, the ghosts of my unpublished novels.

Last year I participated in NANOWRIMO and had a great time spinning out a Bella Vista Motel story that I thought would be a fine introduction to the series. Throughout the year I've chipped away at the second draft with a nagging sense of unease. I know it's a great story. In fact, it's a beautiful story about a new character that I love and that I'm sure you will all love, too.

But it's not the first book.

The first book is the story of a young guy named Romeo, whose career track in the New York City underworld goes off the rails when he gets stuck managing a motel in west Texas––a motel with an underworld of its own.

That book has already been written, it's just buried in a much too long for a first novel edition. So rather than start something new this November, I'm going to dig that first novel out.

Much as I love participating in Friday Flash, I've decided it's best to go on hiatus. I'll check in here and there, cheer on the NANOWRIMO-ers and the other Friday Flashers when I can. I'm grateful for all the comments and encouragement I've received from visitors to this blog, and the Twitterstream. I may post updates and excerpts.

As of today, consider me in the cave. Thanks for reading, and please, wish me luck. Romeo's run out of patience with me...

Pamila