And, I'll admit it. I've got this little antogonistic streak that runs through me. I read the guidelines at Pulp Pusher where they say: If you have a golf course in your story, there better be a damn good reason." Sex and murder seem to be good enough reasons.
I'm not a golfer. There are only 5,643 other things I would rather do with my time. Though, I did grow up in a house next to the golf course. We sold golf balls back to the golfers. I thnk they only bought them because we were kids trying to make a few bucks to go the video arcade on the corner. Pity money is like pity sex-- it's still good!
And those big sprinklers-- those'll take your skin off you get too close. The water coming out of there will soak your clothes on the first pass. When the big ones came on, we'd only play in it for a few minutes before we were drenched and cold.
I never found any condoms on the golf course, though. Or in the woods beyond it. In fact, I've never found a wayward condom yet, come to think of it.
- Novel Progress: 64,000 words, moving into revision stage 1.
- Reason for not writing: Curriculum bullshit
- Current Song: No Rain by Blind Melon