Editor’s Desk…

Ramifications. Consequences.

When engaged in creative writing, one must ( or at least should ) consider them carefully. The overview is so vitally important that you cannot well afford to ignore it.

I’ve already done a few edits on my own piece from yesterday, and have spent more time than I should reading up on SOP manuals from the Denver Police ( very comprehensive). ┬áThe State Police don’t seem to have much online. I had to change the officer’s sidearm to the current Smith and Wesson upgrade ( minor ), and had to rewrite his keying a lapel mike to the ‘on ‘ position as he approached the car ( major). That’s not going to happen in real life; that would prevent his receiving transmissions as well. Logical. The SOPs stress proceeding as safely and as logically as possible.

All this because Chelsea had to go and shoot herself.

” Don’t blame me” she pipes up. ” Damned writers. And now that you mention it; if I just shot myself and I’m dead, would the head wound still be pulsating? Who are you, Dr. House, now? Let me shoot you in the head, and we’ll test that theory. How about you stick to writing what you know for a change, like…oh, I don’t know…how about a carful of self-centered guitar players getting pulled over by a state trooper for speeding?

” Gee, we’re really sorry. Doing 90, you say? But we have a case of Blue Moon, and you know that you just have to have a wedge of orange with that, so we ‘re going to the 24-hr Safeway in Aurora, and if you’ll just let us go, then we’ll never ever do it again, but we just have to get the oranges, and then back to Leadville for a sound check at the Opera House, and we’re so hungry, and I need a 12-volt power supply for my new rack processor, so then to Radio Shack, it’s the new Eleven Rack, it’s so awesome, and I have to change string gauges on my Les Paul because of the elevation around here, and… what? Proof of insurance? We don’t have no stinking proof of insurance…ask the bass player, he’s in the car that was behind us…why? Do I have to step out of the vehicle? We’ll be late now…can’t you just pretend that I did, and here’s two bottles of Blue Moon and we’ll call it a day? No? But why not?

And suddenly shots rings out. Even Officer Stanton has his limits.

“See that, Chelsea? All dead, and nobody’s pulsating”…

” Hey thanks, officer. And listen, if those boneheads kill you off too, want to head back to town and start our own little novel? You…me…case of Blue Moon…oranges? Dinner at the Delaware? Hang out at the Opera House?”

” That sounds pretty good. Although I don’t think we both have to be dead…just digital. So sure, let’s go…”

Consequences…ramifications… oh, my.