Shit is about to Get Real, 34,123 Words

Man, I am actually using delaying tactics. My novel is proceeding forward like a steam engine, and I just don't feel like writing the serious stuff, so in true Esmonde spirit, I decided to plagiarize.

Open writing invitation!!! I will be in Waterloo from Thursday sometime in the day until Saturday morning, when I leave for a cottage where I will have running water and electricity but no cell service and no Internet. Does anyone want to join me for a writing session and some Curry in a Hurry?? Please note that in my desperation, I have been driven to overuse punctuation. At least I haven't been driven to overuse emoticons, unlike poor Sadie. So, here is another tiff between my characters. This time Maggie and Gordon.

“Is it a demon?” she asked him.
“I think you mean daemon,” he replied, a bit haughtily.
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said demon.”
“Exactly,” Maggie is becoming frustrated.
“But I said daemon, not demon.”
“Is there a difference?”
“A world of difference,” Gordon says, shaking his head gravely. Gordon went on to explain that daemons often were drawn to the spirits of those who had passed on. It gave them an excellent opportunity to wreak havoc in the lives of people, whom they detest and consider lowly and unintelligent. “Also, they feed on the emotions of others. Fear, anger, sadness, love, guilt: they will absorb it all. It increases their power. They love to dominate and bend others to their will. Nasty, nasty creatures.”
“How is that different from demons, or for that matter, half of the department of Social and Political Thought at York?” Maggie asked.
“Well, there is an ‘a’ in daemon.” Gordon replied, as though that were any answer at all. His response then entered into a territory that can only be described as postmodern fucking bullshit. “Think of it as a sort of ‘becoming-animal’ process.’”
Maggie asked him what he meant by that. Boy, was she sorry she did.
“I’m so glad that you asked, Margaret. I actually discussed this in my Master’s thesis. It was foundational work I followed up on in my PhD, but we can discuss that later. The thesis was entitled ‘Becoming-Grizzly: Bodily Molecularity and the Animal that Becomes.’ I argued that this molecularity is what enables the potential interpermeation of bodies across and through their difference, such as occurs in the event of becoming-animal. Becoming-animal, like all becomings, is communicative and contagious, working according to a logic of infection, whereby human molecularity and animal molecularity collide in each others's zones of proximity. Like a cold virus, the particles of human and the particles of animal literally infect one another and mix together to form a new singularity, irreducible to either of the two parts.”
Maggie immediately recognized that this was fucking stupid. “What do you mean? Like becoming a werewolf or a bear or something?” Gordon regarded her as though she were some particularly offensive lower life form. In other words, he looked at her as though she were an undergraduate student.
“No, of course not. There is no such thing as a werewolf! What I mean is that even though humans do not “really” become animals, a block of becoming forms between the human and animal, where their molecularities mix—this is what is “real.” In this sense, becoming animal is never a teleological process, where human has a goal to “be” ultimately animal. As a becoming between human and animal, becoming-animal is always a double movement. While it affects the animal as much as the human, the becoming itself is a third term that exerts this transformative force.”
Maggie hated being called Margaret, for one, and for two, she had little to no tolerance for the deranged ramblings of a man trained in the art of postmodern fuckery. Maggie desperately wanted to punch Gordon in the oft broken nose.


One more quick excerpt- bear with me, I really only wrote this for Esmondes...
Gordon explains this to Maggie as they sit around Marla’s kitchen table, in a bright, sunny, kitchen, that in no way matches the downcast mood of this medley group. This is the final meeting, the final preparation before they head into a situation none of them feels equipped to handle. Edie has come to the table wearing a faded yellow nightgown left over from her childhood. It is really a long sweatshirt, traipsing down to her toes, emblazoned with what is intended to be a cute, cuddly cat, playing a violin. Underneath the cat’s dancing paws are the words “Just Fiddlin’ Around”. The long sweatshirt would look strange on any person, but it is particularly incongruous with Edie’s shaved head, smeared black eye makeup, and smeared red lipstick. She looks like a person ready for an exorcism, but in her heart, she feels afraid. This is an emotion Edie is decidedly uncomfortable with.