Marbles Chapter 3 Pt 1

Things get easier and easier as you establish a groove. By chapter three, you should have most of the parts neccesary to focus on narrative, and at that point its just a matter of momentum. 

See, writers will complain all the time about writers block, but you wanna know the best way to actually get work done writing? Fucking write! Write as much as you can: write something in the evening. Write something in the afternoon. Write something in the evening. Stay up late writing. Let it eat more and more of your time, and the words will come. Once you get in the habit, writing becomes easier: its like a train building steam. You wanna build up enough speed to make that train go, first you gotta spend a bit getting the engines running and keep em going long enough to build up a speed.

"So, what did they look like again?" The officer said, giving me the stink eye. 

"I told you, I don't fucking know, it was dark out and I dropped my flashlight," I lied. I might be shaken, I might be scared, but I'm not a fucking snitch: I don't rat to the cops, and I especially don't rat to the fucking Gotham PD.

I didn't particularly care for cops back in the real world. Living in Gotham, you learn to fucking hate them.

"Look pal, that's not what your supervisor said," He said, scowling. "He told me you described em over the radio."

"Yeah? He tell you the details of what I said?" I challenged. "Who you gonna believe, the paper pusher who wasn't even there, or me, the guy who these people ACTUALLY shot at? Besides, why the fuck would I lie: these guys tried to kill me."

"Yeah, why WOULD you lie," The cop said, doubt and annoyance in his voice. "Most good, upstanding citizens would COOPERATE with the police, y'know, especially when it might help them catch the guys what shot at them."

"Sure, an upstanding citizen would, but you gotta understand officer, I'm not a citizen of Upstanding, I'm a Citizen of Gotham." At this, the cops mouth formed a hard line, and the corner of it started twitching. Good: he found it funny. Cops that thought you were funny were less likely to try and ruin your day/year/life (depending on your socio-economic status and skin color). "Look sir, way I figure, this was probably just some dumb teens," They had all been at a minimum thirty years old, "Smoking a little pot and playing around with their dads gun to feel tough. Beyond the fact I need a bandage and a beer, nobody got hurt and nothing was damaged." I was actually significantly freaked out and the wound was somewhat concerningly large. Once the adrenaline had worn off, I had learned that it wasn't so much a graze as a light winging: I had staunched the bleeding before the cop got here and convinced my supervisor the injury was minor, but when I got home I sobbed like a baby and had to actually patch myself up with a sewing kit.

"Frankly, you almost certainly have way more important shit to do than hunt down a couple of no name teen punks," I said. "Like really, are you gonna tell me you got so little going on that you feel like wasting time hunting these guys down?" He almost certainly didn't. 

The cop paused for a moment, and I could see the gears turning in his brain. I might have  fucking hated Gotham cops, but I knew how to get em all turned around: I'm not an intimidating looking guy and the wrong skin tone for them to immediately be prejudiced. From there, you gotta grab their affinity: in my case, through humor. After that, you plant the seed of an idea: 'these people aren't worth the effort'. Add a little ego stroking: you can't just say 'you're a important person', you have to say things that make them FEEL like an important person. Imply they have a lot going on, that way this seems a little less important in comparison. 

End on establishing the idea that chasing them contradicts all this. It doesn't need to be a well supported idea: it didn't exist to stand on its own, it just existed to tear away a bit of the affinity he mighta had for the idea of pursuing this.

"Eh, fuck it, not like Gordo'll pay me extra anyways," He said, shrugging. "I'll just write down that it was a few vagrants, call it a night. Still, you should watch yourself pal: you mighta got a few yucks from me-" God, why do people from Gotham talk like this, it's like they all stepped out of a bad cartoon "-But eventually, that smart mouth is gonna get you in some hot fucking water."

I would like to again note for any unastute readers that I had less than an hour ago gotten shot. I note this because I know at least some of you are dumb and unobservant enough to recognize the irony in that statement.

"Ait, Officer, I'll keep that under advisement. Hope you have a nice night," I said, and a moment later, I was alone. Wincing, I relaxed a bit, allowing the pain I was feeling to show on my face. See, having a hole in you really hurts.