Sylvain Reynard's Blog - Posts Tagged "dialogue"
Complete Dialogue with the Professor
As promised, here is the complete conversation with the Professor:
So the Professor stopped by my flat and without introduction strode into my living room. He sat in a chair, crossed his legs, and glared at me.
(This was not uncommon.)
“SR.” He nodded.
“Gabriel.”
I glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”
The Professor’s lips visibly thinned.
“This isn’t really a social call.”
“So you aren’t here to borrow milk, then?”
“No, I am not.”
“Can I offer you a towel?”
“I’ll get to that in a minute. First, I want to talk to you.”
“No need to wait. I have plenty in a variety of colours.” I gestured to the hallway. “I’ll just run and get one.”
“As I said, I want to talk to you.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but realized that in his current mood, such protestations were futile.
Averting my eyes from the spectacle that was the naked professor seated on my very nice leather chair, I sat far away from him, feeling very uncomfortable.
Clearly he was agitated and sadly for me, Julia had not accompanied him.
(I pondered the possibility of fetching the Snarky Narrator in order to deal with him, but alas, he was out shopping for a new set of parentheticals.)
“This isn’t an art gallery,” I grumbled. “Or a photo shoot. I’m going to have to have that chair cleaned now.”
“Have you forgotten something?” The Professor’s eyes flared in my direction.
I looked away from him pointedly. “I might have asked you the same question.
“No, I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything, apart from a plastic cover for my leather furniture.”
He leaned forward. “Perhaps my appearance might jog your memory?”
I continued inspecting the fascinating sight that was the bare wall of my condominium.
“I can hardly see what your appearance has to do with me, although you might want to rethink your wardrobe choices. The police aren’t likely to look favourably on a naked professor sauntering down Bloor Street.”
“Allow me to refresh your memory. On June third, you released Chapter One of Gabriel’s Redemption. Then the story stopped. Does this ring any bells?”
“Well, you and Julianne were in the orchard at the end of the chapter, and …”
The proverbial light went on in my head. “Oh.”
“Exactly. Oh. Although in this case, it would be better to say ouch.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to lie naked in an orchard day and night for weeks on end?”
I blinked as I scanned my memory banks.
There was that one time in Barcelona …
I shook my head.
“Sadly, no.”
The Professor sniffed primly. “Well, it’s damned cold. We only have one blanket. I’m afraid Julianne is going to catch pneumonia.”
“And die,” I muttered.
“Excuse me?” The Professor gave me a look that was so scathing, it could have peeled the paint from my walls.
“Uh, nothing.” I scratched my head thoughtfully. “I could rewrite the scene and add a few more blankets.”
“You’re obfuscating.”
I straightened in my chair. “I most certainly am not. And may I remind you, you stole my thesaurus the last time you were over. I want it back.”
The Professor waved a dismissive hand in the air, as if he were swatting a gnat.
“Forget about the thesaurus. What’s this about Gabriel’s Redemption being released in December?”
Oh, here we go, I thought.
“Et tu, Brute?”
The Professor merely scowled.
I cleared my throat.
“As you know, I hadn’t planned to write a sequel to Gabriel’s Rapture. Readers changed my mind. So the gap between the release of books two and three is wider than between books one and two.” I pushed my glasses up, as they’d begun slipping down my nose.
“Regrettably,” I added.
The Professor gazed at me coldly.
“I’ll say this slowly so that I’m sure you can keep up.
“We’re in limbo, naked, in the orchard until you release Chapter Two or publish the entire book. How do you think that feels?”
I pondered this idea for a moment, since his wife was very beautiful.
“SR?” he prompted.
“What’s that?” I had momentarily forgotten he was there.
His eyes narrowed, as if he were reading my mind.
I looked away.
“I’m sure it’s extremely uncomfortable. Somewhat like having one of your characters show up during lunch unannounced, naked, and truculent.
“And don’t even think about borrowing my Oxford English Dictionary in order to look up ‘truculent.’”
“I don’t need your damned dictionary. I know what it means,” he spat.
Muttering to myself, I wandered down the hall to fetch him a towel, which I dumped unceremoniously in his lap.
“Please give my apologies to Julianne. I’m sorry for the inconvenience and I will go back and write in a few more blankets and maybe a cashmere robe.”
“Thank you.
“Being stuck in limbo until December third is damned inconvenient for both of us. And I’ll have you know that Professor Picton is not pleased about your delay, either.”
At this, I closed my eyes.
Not Katherine, too.
I opened my eyes.
“As I recall, Professor Picton appears in the novel fully clothed.”
The Professor glared at me once again.
I shifted my weight awkwardly. “Not that she isn’t attractive. Um, should I expect a visit from her as well?”
“No, she’s in Oxford, where you left her.”
“Oxford is a bit like limbo. Although perhaps the food is better. I’m not sure.”
Gabriel snapped his fingers. “Try to stay focused, will you? You have the attention span of a fruit fly.”
I straightened myself to my full height.
“I beg your pardon. I am completely focused. And you might want to rethink your attitude given the fact that your destiny rests in these hands.”
I crackled my knuckles in what I hoped would be a menacing fashion.
The Professor snorted like a horse.
“I think my destiny rests more in the hands of readers, but carry on, oh God-like third-person author.”
I narrowed my eyes at his sarcasm.
“Allow me to explain how this works. Readers can pre-order our novel, which means they’ll receive it immediately on its release. In some cases, it’s delivered to their Kindle at the stroke of midnight. So pre-orders will certainly hasten your freedom.
“And because Julianne is – ah – cold, I’ll release Chapter Two. But after I’ve given her a bathrobe.”
I gazed into the distance, as I began thinking aloud.
“And maybe one of those things … you know… with lace and straps. And some …”
“Watch it,” he growled.
My attention immediately returned to the Professor.
I gulped.
“Right. Just a robe. But a nice one. Cashmere. Very warm.”
The Professor checked his watch. “I should leave so you can get on with it. We’ve waited long enough.”
He stood to his feet, affixing the very large black bath sheet around his waist.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting, especially with this book. You know what’s at stake.” He gave me a significant look.
I nodded, keeping a safe, respectful distance. “I promise to do my best.”
“Is this to be the last book?”
I scratched my head. “I think so.”
“You think so?” he repeated. “You don‘t know?”
“Well, you know what happened the last time I said ‘this is the final book in the series’…”
He shook his head.
“For an omniscient author, you know precious little.”
I sighed deeply. “I get that a lot.”
“I’ll see myself out. Enjoy your lunch. And SR…”
“Yes?”
“Put on some clothes, for God’s sake.”
He grimaced at the sight of my Superman pyjamas (of dubious origin) and quickly withdrew, leaving me to my solitude and my writing.
I’m going to have to burn that chair, I thought.
Or perhaps I can sell it on Ebay…
Fin.
Thanks for reading, everyone. Today at 12noon Eastern (NYC time), I'll be posting Chapter 2 from "Gabriel's Redemption" on my website. Please read Chapter 1 first: http://www.sylvainreynard.com/2013/06...
But note that these chapters contain spoilers from the first two books. So if you haven't read "Gabriel's Inferno" and "Gabriel's Rapture," please don't read the new chapters.
Thanks again for your support, SR
So the Professor stopped by my flat and without introduction strode into my living room. He sat in a chair, crossed his legs, and glared at me.
(This was not uncommon.)
“SR.” He nodded.
“Gabriel.”
I glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”
The Professor’s lips visibly thinned.
“This isn’t really a social call.”
“So you aren’t here to borrow milk, then?”
“No, I am not.”
“Can I offer you a towel?”
“I’ll get to that in a minute. First, I want to talk to you.”
“No need to wait. I have plenty in a variety of colours.” I gestured to the hallway. “I’ll just run and get one.”
“As I said, I want to talk to you.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but realized that in his current mood, such protestations were futile.
Averting my eyes from the spectacle that was the naked professor seated on my very nice leather chair, I sat far away from him, feeling very uncomfortable.
Clearly he was agitated and sadly for me, Julia had not accompanied him.
(I pondered the possibility of fetching the Snarky Narrator in order to deal with him, but alas, he was out shopping for a new set of parentheticals.)
“This isn’t an art gallery,” I grumbled. “Or a photo shoot. I’m going to have to have that chair cleaned now.”
“Have you forgotten something?” The Professor’s eyes flared in my direction.
I looked away from him pointedly. “I might have asked you the same question.
“No, I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything, apart from a plastic cover for my leather furniture.”
He leaned forward. “Perhaps my appearance might jog your memory?”
I continued inspecting the fascinating sight that was the bare wall of my condominium.
“I can hardly see what your appearance has to do with me, although you might want to rethink your wardrobe choices. The police aren’t likely to look favourably on a naked professor sauntering down Bloor Street.”
“Allow me to refresh your memory. On June third, you released Chapter One of Gabriel’s Redemption. Then the story stopped. Does this ring any bells?”
“Well, you and Julianne were in the orchard at the end of the chapter, and …”
The proverbial light went on in my head. “Oh.”
“Exactly. Oh. Although in this case, it would be better to say ouch.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to lie naked in an orchard day and night for weeks on end?”
I blinked as I scanned my memory banks.
There was that one time in Barcelona …
I shook my head.
“Sadly, no.”
The Professor sniffed primly. “Well, it’s damned cold. We only have one blanket. I’m afraid Julianne is going to catch pneumonia.”
“And die,” I muttered.
“Excuse me?” The Professor gave me a look that was so scathing, it could have peeled the paint from my walls.
“Uh, nothing.” I scratched my head thoughtfully. “I could rewrite the scene and add a few more blankets.”
“You’re obfuscating.”
I straightened in my chair. “I most certainly am not. And may I remind you, you stole my thesaurus the last time you were over. I want it back.”
The Professor waved a dismissive hand in the air, as if he were swatting a gnat.
“Forget about the thesaurus. What’s this about Gabriel’s Redemption being released in December?”
Oh, here we go, I thought.
“Et tu, Brute?”
The Professor merely scowled.
I cleared my throat.
“As you know, I hadn’t planned to write a sequel to Gabriel’s Rapture. Readers changed my mind. So the gap between the release of books two and three is wider than between books one and two.” I pushed my glasses up, as they’d begun slipping down my nose.
“Regrettably,” I added.
The Professor gazed at me coldly.
“I’ll say this slowly so that I’m sure you can keep up.
“We’re in limbo, naked, in the orchard until you release Chapter Two or publish the entire book. How do you think that feels?”
I pondered this idea for a moment, since his wife was very beautiful.
“SR?” he prompted.
“What’s that?” I had momentarily forgotten he was there.
His eyes narrowed, as if he were reading my mind.
I looked away.
“I’m sure it’s extremely uncomfortable. Somewhat like having one of your characters show up during lunch unannounced, naked, and truculent.
“And don’t even think about borrowing my Oxford English Dictionary in order to look up ‘truculent.’”
“I don’t need your damned dictionary. I know what it means,” he spat.
Muttering to myself, I wandered down the hall to fetch him a towel, which I dumped unceremoniously in his lap.
“Please give my apologies to Julianne. I’m sorry for the inconvenience and I will go back and write in a few more blankets and maybe a cashmere robe.”
“Thank you.
“Being stuck in limbo until December third is damned inconvenient for both of us. And I’ll have you know that Professor Picton is not pleased about your delay, either.”
At this, I closed my eyes.
Not Katherine, too.
I opened my eyes.
“As I recall, Professor Picton appears in the novel fully clothed.”
The Professor glared at me once again.
I shifted my weight awkwardly. “Not that she isn’t attractive. Um, should I expect a visit from her as well?”
“No, she’s in Oxford, where you left her.”
“Oxford is a bit like limbo. Although perhaps the food is better. I’m not sure.”
Gabriel snapped his fingers. “Try to stay focused, will you? You have the attention span of a fruit fly.”
I straightened myself to my full height.
“I beg your pardon. I am completely focused. And you might want to rethink your attitude given the fact that your destiny rests in these hands.”
I crackled my knuckles in what I hoped would be a menacing fashion.
The Professor snorted like a horse.
“I think my destiny rests more in the hands of readers, but carry on, oh God-like third-person author.”
I narrowed my eyes at his sarcasm.
“Allow me to explain how this works. Readers can pre-order our novel, which means they’ll receive it immediately on its release. In some cases, it’s delivered to their Kindle at the stroke of midnight. So pre-orders will certainly hasten your freedom.
“And because Julianne is – ah – cold, I’ll release Chapter Two. But after I’ve given her a bathrobe.”
I gazed into the distance, as I began thinking aloud.
“And maybe one of those things … you know… with lace and straps. And some …”
“Watch it,” he growled.
My attention immediately returned to the Professor.
I gulped.
“Right. Just a robe. But a nice one. Cashmere. Very warm.”
The Professor checked his watch. “I should leave so you can get on with it. We’ve waited long enough.”
He stood to his feet, affixing the very large black bath sheet around his waist.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting, especially with this book. You know what’s at stake.” He gave me a significant look.
I nodded, keeping a safe, respectful distance. “I promise to do my best.”
“Is this to be the last book?”
I scratched my head. “I think so.”
“You think so?” he repeated. “You don‘t know?”
“Well, you know what happened the last time I said ‘this is the final book in the series’…”
He shook his head.
“For an omniscient author, you know precious little.”
I sighed deeply. “I get that a lot.”
“I’ll see myself out. Enjoy your lunch. And SR…”
“Yes?”
“Put on some clothes, for God’s sake.”
He grimaced at the sight of my Superman pyjamas (of dubious origin) and quickly withdrew, leaving me to my solitude and my writing.
I’m going to have to burn that chair, I thought.
Or perhaps I can sell it on Ebay…
Fin.
Thanks for reading, everyone. Today at 12noon Eastern (NYC time), I'll be posting Chapter 2 from "Gabriel's Redemption" on my website. Please read Chapter 1 first: http://www.sylvainreynard.com/2013/06...
But note that these chapters contain spoilers from the first two books. So if you haven't read "Gabriel's Inferno" and "Gabriel's Rapture," please don't read the new chapters.
Thanks again for your support, SR
