We are the beach volleyball team of the blogosphere. The Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh Jennings of writers, if you will.
Okay, eyes up here. By the grace of Neptune we wish we were bragging about our abs resembling their epic washboards, but alas, our metaphor goes deeper than that. Almost as deep as you would have to spelunk to find our own mythological six packs.
No, we have a team approach, like script writers, to our writing. How to answer when asked if we record and transcribe our conversations? Um, no, hell no, and you’re welcome.
Topics for posts are buried in our conversations like treasures lost on a beach. We diligently mine for them like metal detector toting geriatric bounty hunters. For example, this was shouted during a recent conversation, “Wait! Remember an hour ago, when we were talking about how you bunched everyone’s panties by ferociously proclaiming your hate for Andy Griffith? That’s our next post!”
There’s the serve.
“Well, it’s your bright idea, how are we going to start it?”
“I’ll text you when I get a framework on the site.”
Ball hangs in air. For this piece you don’t need a suspension of disbelief, you need a suspension of gravity.
‹Droid› emanates from a phone at 6:00am heralding the message, “I started it and wrote in placeholder parts where I heard your voice. Tag you’re it.” But really it’s not a phone, it’s Ellen’s phone Droid-ing. Erin is Miss Rise-and-Shine-Grab-the-Worm-by-the-Tail-Work-at-the-Crack-of-Ass Morning Person.
So squeezing in writing around life, Ellen writes in her parts and bounces it back. At 11:30pm.
Dig, ball hangs in air again, gravity be damned. By 9pm, Erin winds down like a doped athlete who’s lost her dealer.
Ellen knows a 6:00am “Droid” is coming…
“Loved it. Polished it. Can you picture it up because I have three separate soccer camps to shuttle to today?”
Set.We Dub This One “Accurate”
“It has pictures, it is proofed, and it is scheduled to publish for next week.”
Spike and score!
Okay, we seriously pulled the visors over your eyes on that one. We generally finish posts about 30 minutes before our self-imposed publishing deadlines; just part of our rhythm of cooperation.
If you’re keeping score, that’s about 60 hours of bouncing back and forth, editing, and haggling over dialogue like seagulls squawking over sandwich crusts.
Practice has made the process more fluid, but it wasn’t always so. Let’s turn to the highlight reel.
“Did you really take out my perfectly good simile and compare me to George freakin’ Burns?”
“So you drop in commas like a unicorn farting glitter, but sentence fragments are okay?”
“You put the word “niggled” in MY mouth!?!”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with it, just make it better.”
We practice, we improve, we write. Toss our medal out for the bounty hunters to find because we really just want some love from the crowd…and some sweats. We need to cover our assets because it’s getting sandy all up in here.
By Ellen Williams Erin Dymowski