Vaughan & Chiang's "Paper Girls" Builds a Familiar Yet Disconcerting World
The funny thing is that there isn’t that much snow on the ground where I am right now (somewhere between Genoa and Minden, NV in the Carson Valley–which is as good a place to set a western as I can think of), but there was enough snow last night to keep me from going over Donner Summit to get home to where I keep all the Strangeways pages, or have a computer that has Photoshop on it.
So no new page today, at least not by the time it’s supposed to be up. So how about a new way to look at an old page?
Here’s the page that got run last week, page 115, I think. Maybe 117. Maybe 116. I number them differently since I write them in chapters.
Now here’s the script for that page, so people can see how much (or how little) I actually write in terms of directions. See, I’ve gotten in discussions online where I’ve been passive-aggressively painted as a control freak who only wants to hire art robots to execute my master plan. Actually, I think there’s a whole lot of freedom in the script. What I’m interested in is making sure that emotional cues get picked up (not that there’s many on this page). Maybe some basic stage directions, but by the same token, I’ll often say “If you can find a better way to do this, then please do.”
There’s only been a couple pages where I’ve had to kick them back once, and only one time that I can think of that I’ve had to do it twice, mostly because I wasn’t giving great or complete directions.
Anyways, here’s a peek behind the curtains.
Clouds, beginning to creep in around the sun, but it’s still clear enough to make things tough on the vampires.
On the shack again.
Hey bloodsucker! I’ll make you a deal!
I got hurt bad by that blast, but I’m still alive. How about you trade me for the woman and the preacher.
On De Medina, glancing upwards with increasing satisfaction.
I don’t know…
All this waiting has made for a powerful thirst on my part.
Joachim has rolled into a crouch and is eyeing De Medina cautiously.
What’s to keep us from taking what we want? The sun won’t keep you safe forever.
On Collins, sidled up to the door, hand cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice. Murphy and Penny behind, watching anxiously.
Three might be more than one. But one is more than none.
A drunk’ll take a real bottle of whiskey over the promise of three.
Ain’t that the truth.
On the shack, from De Medina’s POV. [Woah, major plot spoiler here–rephrasing it else nobody will want to stick around for the finish]. Note the isolation of the outbuilding in relation to the town itself.
And you all are drunks if ever I’ve seen ‘em.
Prove me wrong!
Back on Wednesday unless I get stranded on the summit and turn to cannibalism. Think I’ll watch RAVENOUS again to get me in the right frame of mind before I hit the road.