Alligator

I like the post about the Drishti? Did I say that right? Very much.

There's something you do so well. You're like a placement pitcher. You're like a Greg Maddux when you write. You don't always go for the 102 mph fastball on the outside corner. I mean, you're capable of it, don't get me wrong. But you often go for a series of placement pitches, one high and inside, the next an 88 mph split-finger, and then back with a curveball. That's how you build up your descriptions and scenes. Clear images, clear little phrases that stack up on each other. You take your time with it, the phrases kind of overlay, and one has the pleasant sensation of looking through a series of acetates that, all together, make this cool collage of images. It works for you and I really enjoy reading it. I could not imitate it if I tried; I'd get lost in the pacing and lose track of my point.

So, about the alligator. You may find this interesting, creepy, or not worth a damn, but I'll tell you something strange. One of the first stories I wrote (probably six months into my first stab at writing) was about a boy who drives his car into a deep drainage pond in a Florida suburb. He's ambivalent about surfacing (he's depressed, etc.) until, out the windshield, drifting in the still-lit headlights, he sees a massive alligator go gliding past. He's terrified to be left, dead or alive, down there with this monster, and so he makes for the surface. My alligator scene (aside from being entirely imaginary) was done in murky greens and browns.