A Bit of Beach Fun (And Zombie Turtles)

Is that a zombie turtle chasing me?

Topsail Beach, NC is known for its turtles.  What I didn't know was that sometimes those turtles are zombie turtles.  They're stealthy and faster than turtles that aren't zombiefied.  And they prey upon unsuspecting, middle-aged tourists and vacationers.

Like me!

You never hear them.  They come en masse, stalking, waiting to strike the unwary.

They're not content to convince the unbelieving of their existence.  Their motives are base.  Their sole aim is to multiply.  They need humans in order to propagate.

And I was the means to their ends!

The panicked brain is not known for strategy.  I was armed with nothing more than a Basset Hound and a diet cola.  Both were useless.

What good is a twelve-ounce aluminum can against zombiefied, armored turtle shells?  And have you ever thrown a sixty-five pound Basset Hound?  The old girl might have done a bit of damage had I managed, but Basset tossing is for the young--even when facing a horde of zombie turtles.

But the zombie turtles do throw.  They hurl each other like cannon balls.  And once you've lost your balance they have you!

Zombie turtles bite with massive zombie fangs!

Razor-like fangs as long as their legs protrude from their mouths the moment you're within striking range.  And they strike without mercy.

The Basset merely yelped and fled like the yellow-belly coward she is, leaving me writhing and flailing on the sandy beach, helpless turtle fodder.

I felt teeth puncture my flesh.  The setting sun ignited a flash from below the horizon.  The gentle waves swelled into a tsunami.  The world changed.  The transformation was almost instantaneous.

I rose, no longer fully human.  I saw things as never before, a world of gray dotted with shapes of green.  My newly birthed instinct recognized those shapes and the need to propagate my transformed self grew to blinding urgency.

A bikini-clad lady gawked, then screamed and ran.  I gave chase, but lacked the speed of zombie turtles.  Her partner, a hulking man barely in his twenties, threw his cooler at me.  Bottles of Budweiser shattered against my head.  I winced at the stench.  Only the smell of blood placates me now.

He charged towards me.  I doubted my ability to prevail, but my mutant turtle brethren intervened.  He's one of us now.  He assists Topsail Beach's Chamber of Commerce by designing tourist brochures.

Me?  I'm still here.  On the beach.  Toting my stale can of diet cola.  Waiting...

You simply must come to Topsail on your next vacation!

Note: No turtles (zombie or otherwise) were harmed in the writing of this story.  My wife and I had a truly fabulous time on Topsail Island and plan to vacation there again.

August is Awesome Because of Sarah Allen

I've been a follower of Sarah's blog now for quite some time.  (Of course, "quite some time" is in relation to how long I've been blogging.)  Still, hers is a blog worth following.

I've found this awesome individual interesting, complex, insightful and easy to relate with.  She often approaches things from a unique perspective and sees that which others seldom consider.

Her post today is no exception.  Just read below to find out what she learned from a television character!

So now, with all appropriate fanfare, I introduce to you the awesome Sarah Allen!

3 Writing Lessons from Dr. House

by Sarah Allen

He’s cranky. He’s manipulative. He’s a mean, bitingly sarcastic drug-addict with no discernible moral code.

So why do we love him so much? And what can our fascination with characters like Gregory House teach us about writing? Given the recent (and brilliant) show finale, I thought it would be fun to take a look. Even if you’re not as big a fan-girl as I am, Dr. Gregory House still has a lot to teach us.

1. The Super-Human factor: House is smarter than everyone around him. Sure he knows it and is frankly a jerk about it, but that doesn’t discount his incredible intelligence and wit that intrigues and fascinates us as much as his other characteristics might repel. He knows things and says things and does things that make us wish we were like him a little bit, that put us in awe.

Our characters don’t have to be jerks, but we do well to make them unique. Make them above the rest or different in some way. We want to know what it’s like to be in that position. It thrills us when characters do and say things that we would never dare do in real life.

2. The Humanness of the Super-Human factor: Yes House is a genius. He is also incredibly, incredibly human and vulnerable. He has a painful limp. He has a nearly inescapable addiction. He has an incredible affection and loyalty for his best friend. He has growing feelings for the beautiful boss that he doesn’t quite know what to do with. All these things make him relatable and shockingly and adorably vulnerable. My favorite moments in the show are when, despite House’s best efforts, these vulnerabilities show through the rough, scruffy exterior.

We love super-human characters, characters that do things we would never do. But we also want to know that they are like us and deal with the same painful things we deal with. When people as strong as these characters show this raw place, its cathartic and makes us feel like its okay for us to have the problems that we do. Though they are a bit super-human, these vulnerabilities make them seem even more human than the rest of us.

3. The Internal and External factor: One thing I love about the show House is that it tells both an external and internal story. We have the external story each episode with each patient and whether or not they are going to survive. Literally life and death stakes. Then we have the internal story, the team’s relationships with each other, House’s pain and addiction, his inability to maintain a close relationship with anyone. Emotional life and death stakes.

I honestly think that emotional life and death stakes are more important than literal ones. There should be an outside story, moving the characters through the plot, driving them towards an end goal. But what makes us actually care about this story and the characters is the internal, emotional story. We care about House because of his mix of super-human intelligence and incredibly human vulnerability, and we care about the outer medical story in-so-far as it relates to and changes Houses inner story. At least that’s how it is for me.

Anyway, I hope this gives you something to think about as you keep writing. If nothing else I got to picture Hugh Laurie’s face, and that’s good enough for me.

About Sarah Allen:

Sarah is a 23 year old uber-dork working on drafting her second novel and querying her first. She is a Jane Austen groupie, Peach Fresca addict and lover of jazz and post-grunge rock.

You can find out more at her blog:
From Sarah With Joy

Connect with Sarah on:

Facebook and

Twitter

August is Awesome Because of Adam Gaylord

There are times that I read something and simply stop and marvel at what I just read.  Adam made me do just that in a piece he wrote (which I linked to in a Sunday Surfing post a while back.)  In the space of a few short paragraphs he had transported me to another time and place.  

Adam is frequently linked by inkPageant for his thought-provoking articles on subjects that many writers often fail to consider.  Adam's contribution to this awesome August series is no different.

If you're a writer, you owe it to yourself to consider well his suggestions.  If you're a reader, you owe it to yourself to devour anything he's written.  My pleasure today is to introduce to you the awesomeness that is Adam Gaylord!

Animals Make a Story

By

Adam Gaylord

Animals make us Human.

- Temple Grandin

I want to start things off with a little story.

Around 1918 there was an accomplished leather engraver by the name of Harry Wailing living in New York. Harry had a good life. He had a successful business, a nice home, a wife, a couple kids, and a beloved hound-dog. By all accounts he was well liked and well respected. But there was trouble brewing at home for Harry; his wife had taken another lover. Over time this lover became so brazen that he would visit the lady of the house while Harry was at home. After one such occasion, the man strolled out of the lady's room and, on the way to the door, kicked Harry's beloved hound-dog. Harry calmly retrieved his pistol and shot the man in the face.

After that Harry fled New York and moved to Florida, settling on a little island on the Gulf Coast called Mariposa Key where he lived out the rest of his days selling trinkets to fishermen. Ninety-years later a friend and I spearheaded a project to restore the island to its natural habitat (which is how I came to know about this true story).

The thing I love about this tale of woe is what it took to finally push Harry over the edge. He kept his head when he found out his wife was cheating. He restrained himself when the interloper invaded his home. He even managed to contain his rage when these visits happened right under his nose.

But kick his dog and he’ll shoot you in the face.

Without this tidbit Harry’s story is kinda mundane. Turn on the local news in the evening and you’ll probably hear about a jealous husband who’s shot his wife’s lover. It happens all the time. The addition of the dog to this story does a couple things to set it apart.

1. It makes Harry relatable - Everyone loves their pet. I love my dog. I’ve never been in a fight but if someone kicked by dog, they had better do it on the run ‘cause if I can catch ‘em, I’m gonna kick their ass.

2. It defines the bad guy - David Powers King did a great blog post a while back about the "Kick the Dog" trope. Put simply, good guys don’t kick dogs. No matter what the backstory was (maybe Harry was a jerk to his wife), nothing excuses walking up to an old hound-dog and kicking him. That makes you the bad guy.

The thing is, this isn’t an animal story. This isn’t "Old Yeller", "Hidalgo", "Seabiscuit", or any of the other wonderful stories where the animal is a primary character. This is Harry’s story; the dog is a secondary character. If there wasn’t a dog there would still be a story, it just wouldn’t be as good.

And that’s my point: Animals make stories better.

Let me give you a couple other examples (super spoiler alert).

Have you seen the western "Open Range"? If not, as soon as you’re done leaving a comment about how awesome this post is you need to watch it. I love westerns and it’s my absolute favorite. For those of you that have seen it you know it’s a story about warring groups of cowboys (good guy free rangers vs. bad guy ranchers). It’s definitely not an animal movie but there are a couple very important animals in it. Kevin Costner’s character is a troubled man with a dark past...but he loves his dog. His connection to this animal gives his character humanity and lets the audience know that deep in that silent rugged exterior there’s a good man. And when the dog is killed by the bad guys, the audience knows that shit just got real. Conflict was coming anyway, no doubt about it. But with the dog dead you know there will be no prisoners.

One last example.

I KNOW all of you have seen the post-apocalyptic classic "Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior" (sequel to "Mad Max"). Freaking great movie. And I’m sure you’ll all agree that one of the best secondary characters in the whole film is the dog. He’s a badass. His interactions with the reluctant hero and pilot Gyro are hilarious. And when one of the bad guys shoots him with a crossbow...heartbreaking.

Both of these movies would still be great without their respective animals, just not as great. Animals make the audience care. They give characters humanity. They define good guys and bad guys. They provide comic relief and break hearts. Animals make stories better.

So does your story have an animal or two?

About Adam Gaylord:

Adam Gaylord is a graduate student studying wildlife at Oregon State University. He lives in Corvallis with his beautiful wife and slightly funny looking dog. When he’s not chasing elk and deer or buried in data, you can usually find him knee deep in one of his many writing projects.

Adam blogs at Adam's Daily Apple