Wilfair: Commentary: Caddishness

     Hi!
     I'm having a week -- make that a Week -- and next week will be a Week, too. The calendar is packed.
     So I'm going to revisit some sections in the books every few days and break 'em down a little, just for fun, and because I have thoughts about every small thing. No, really, I do. Shocking? Probably not.
     I should be back to regular original posting quite soon!

Wilfair
Chapter: Did You Enjoy Being Asked to Dinner for the First Time Ever?

“Well, there goes that genius plan,” sighed Monty, hands on his slim standee hips. Has Monty's slim standee hips been mentioned before this moment? They need a little more love in the next book. I can even see how his fingers spread when he does this. Yeah, I said it.

“What genius plan?” I asked.

“We were talking about turning off the vacancy sign and treating you to a half-price omelet. I know, we’re generous,” shrugged Monty. The motel's classic NO VACANCY neon sign is just below the main Motel Fairwil sign. The letters are red. Puzzle that one out, Gomery!

“Motel’s pretty unbusy. No more check-ins tonight,” explained Gomery. Don't get too excited, Gomery; you'll be awake later, after midnight, walking a late-arriving family to their room, and your nosy neighbor will see it all, including the sleep curl that sproings off the top of your head. Okay, you can be excited about that last bit, if you like.

“But, the thing is, if we go to the Mmm-Mmm, I’m betting half a half-off omelet your new best bud will have you in his lap in no time. He went from calling for your head to offering to hire you,” Monty marveled. Lap-sitting can be a delightful thing in real life but I feel a bit complicated about it in romance novels. I don't know why; it can be warm and loving or it can be a little cutesy and occasionally unsettling. This is me kind of working out that negative feeling, by applying it to the soused guy the cousins just ran out of the motel. That said, I may change my mind about laps in this last book, because someone has already perched upon someone else's lap (maybe not the pair you expect, or even the second pair you expect).

I’d heard “you” and “half-price omelet” and little else. “Why?” Fair is a selective hearer when she's nervous. Like us all, right?

Monty’s bulbs glowed. “Why what? Take you out? Uh, you just worked our front desk? Dealing with guests like that? Have you never seen a movie? The virtuous get rewarded, and the kind get thanked. Usually.” Monty's a frickin' know-it-all and I wouldn't have it any other way.

“It is, after all, only fair, Fair,” said Gomery. Oh yes he did!

Monty sighed at Gomery. “Oh, stop it. You have been standing there, trying to think that up. You are a complete cad and I’m sick of it. Sick of your caddishness. Sick.” Classic cousin-style ribbing. Also, Monty is proving here that he will say anything in front of anybody, embarrassment be damned.

“I thought it up this afternoon, and I’ve been plotting the perfect moment to use it,” Gomery smiled with a hint of malevolence. Then he finished with, “Not really.” But his hand moved to straightened his tie, and the gesture said: really. Every book I write has several little "bases" for me. While I may question and hem and haw over certain sections as I read and tweak and polish, the bases are the bits I'm totally solid about. So when I reach one I'm like "phew! A base. Gonna rest here for a moment." Gomery straightening his tie and Fair picking up on the subtle meaning (or not so subtle) is one of my Wilfair bases. Not everything pleases me when I write it -- oh goodness no -- but this line is one of my pets. (That said, everything pleases me when the book is fully done, which is how it should be, because no one wants a writer who is like "eh, whatever" -- nope. I'm enthused about it all, but still, my bases are my bases.)

Plus? Ties are excellent for conveying silent messages. Am I right?