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17 January 2008 @ 10:04 am
livejournal - looking for writers, etc  
Let me give you a chapter as an example of what kind of stuff I want to turn into a polished, finished chapter. The narrator, John, and his friend Marcus, and both tourists in SE Asia. They are yuppies. Marcus comes from a wealthy family, is mildly addicted to cocaine and is paranoid because his family always told him that no matter what he does, he must never embarrass them (but since he's young and always had money, he had to always restrain himself). John the narrator comes from middle class. Both are pretty athletic, normal, typical-type guys - though perhaps more educated, since they're yuppies.

They are in Thailand. The two of them get high on coke at the start of this chapter, which I can describe to you if you've never done it: you taste/smell its sweetness in your sinuses, you get hyper, your speech gets hyper, and you become happy and lovey-dovey cheerful. Since they think they're obviously high, they decide to walk along a dark beach instead of the lit street for fear of getting caught (drugs are very, very illegal in Thailand). On the beach they see a group of four girls which turn out to be katoeys (transvestites) and who (these katoeys) try to rob them and in the process beat them up.

John and Marcus eventually retreat into the light, then take an alley, stop by an Indian-run tailor shop to clean up and buy new shirts, and go out for food and drinks, laughing that they got beaten up by "girls."

And now, the outline itself:

Beach katoeys: a chapter


Marcus and I got high again.

We were giddy and cheerful, tasting the sweetness of cocaine on our gums and smelling it long after snorting it. With what little sense we had left, we cleaned up the small white particles all over the nose, nose hairs, upper lip, nostrils, etc. We didn't want to be that obvious. Still, we were giddy like little girls and everything was funny. We were also elated and talkative, although our where our tongues sped up our thoughts slowed down, with the unfortunate effect of giving us away to anyone even marginally familiar with our hobby.

We started flirting with hookers, shifting to people and then go guards. Marcus gave a long speech to a guard about how beautiful Thailand was, what with all its water and sand and jungle and women – the guard wasn't too happy about the women – and I had a sober thought that this isn't the Land of Smiles after all, not all the time at least.

Marcus also sobered up when he looked at a guy in uniform (albeit of a private guard) and decided that we'd better keep out of sight because what if the next guy he wants to confess to is a cop; then we'd be in trouble. I cheerfully agreed, because Marcus said it and Marcus at the time was my best friend forever, world without end, amen.

So we left and down along the beach because it was dark and empty, plus the breeze from the water kind of cooled us down and we figured we needed to come down and act like adults. So we walked around our empty beach, cheerful and happy, when we saw a group of Thai girls who were kind of meandering without much purpose or direction.

What a swell coincidence. Girls! Four of them! And here we were, us two guys, in a great mood and wanting to spread the love, and now found someone we could spread it to.

We came up to them and started talking – I in English and Marcus in Thai. The girls chuckled and answered each of us in our initial language. We ended up with two conversations, with me telling the girls one thing and not to listen to Marcus (even though I had no idea what the fuck he was saying) and he was telling them whatever in his (their) language.

In retrospect, even before what happened, we should've noticed that those girls, as they say, "just not that into us anymore." At least looking at it soberly – and ex post facto – it was plainly obvious. But it wasn't obvious to us then, since we were not sober but instead determined so spread love to all ends of the earth and so far we found threes four girls to spread it to, and that was all that mattered and all that we could think about at the time.

So I kept on babbling with girls and even started saying some things in Thai – most unrelated and useless to what I wanted – and tried to get these girls interested.

Right in the middle of my yaking, Marcus all of a sudden started getting serious really quickly. Within a few sentences he was almost like sobering up, at least he seemed that way. The girls were now talking among themselves in Thai, and they seemed very sober and very businesslike and not at all in the flirty, silly courtship dynamic. I looked at my friend questioningly: I didn't understand. The girls' conversation was getting increasingly more animated, energetic, and a few seconds later Marcus sobered up completely, made a few steps back. I heard him say, "T-Birds!" and almost at the same time, the biggest of the girls turned to me and said in the typically Asian accent, "Geev me yo money, vallet, credit cahd."

I stepped back. Fuck. T-birds was our slang for katoeys, the local transvestites and so-called ladyboys. The "t" stood for transvestite and "bird" was British slang for "girl" or "woman." We thought it clever and it was useful to say without the English-speaking locals understanding what we meant.

The girls – who weren't, really – started walking up to us. Marcus and I stood back. We were in the middle of a dark beach in Thailand, a country 10,000 miles away from our native California, and in a split second I remembered all those news stories about people being robbed, sometimes raped, and beheaded on Thai beaches. Or shot execution-style. Or just disappear without a trace.

So, long story short, I had just one word in mind: "fuck." FUCK! In a split second, it changed into "FUCKED," as in, "we were ~."

All of that thinking took a fraction of a second because in then the katoeys started swinging. The fight must have looked weird from the side: two 200-lb Americans are fighting with four 150-lb Thai girls. But don't let that fool you, it's only weird or funny if you're not the one doing it. These transvestites are vicious and what they lack in height, side and strength, they try to make up for in numbers and true viciousness.

[fight scene]

They didn't fight like girls but it was a weird fight. They seemed vicious but somewhat hesitant to come closer. Maybe it was our height; maybe they wanted to protect themselves against the bruises that would probably make them unmarketable as prostitutes. Who knew?

We started in a sort of stalemate with them being hesitant and us being scared. Somehow all of us sensed that this couldn't last much longer and all of this tension needed a resolution. I noticed a sudden twitch in one of my forearms, I don't know why. I don't think it was fear, at least not conscious fear.

The tension went increased and I think all six of us there realized at once that we had to do something – anything – and get this over with. What happened next was a blur.

One of the smaller katoeys inched forward. Marcus, whose left leg was forward, jump-shifted in place to move his right forward, stepped with his left, and put his entire weight into kicking forward with his right. The kick wasn't high and hit the katoeys either in the stomach or in the sternum. The next second everything came to motion.


The katoeys collapsed in place, wheezing. Two of the others lunged at Marcus who stepped back, punching, they grabbed him and all three of them went down into the wet sand. Forgetting about the fourth, I started after the two attackers in the sand. I grabbed one by the hair and started pulling him back. I pulled, he screamed, and in then felt a sharp, burning pain in my left arm (with which I pulled the hair). I instinctively let go, screaming, and swung around blindly punching with my right in the direction of where I realized was the fourth katoey. The punch was probably all the stronger because of the pain, anger and sadness all at once.

The katoey recoiled, stepping back a few steps holding his chest, and glared. A small cheap knife (the kind sold at every lot and dollar store) fell to the sand. I felt a sharp, pinching pain in the leg – one of the katoeys grabbed on to me and was pinching hard, digging into my skin with fingers and nails and trying to pull me to the ground. I howled and turned to him, backhanding him with a closed fist across the temple. He let go. I kicked him, then kicked him again a few times, finally kicking sand into his face. The katoey curled in a fetal position covering his face and chest with his arms. The fourth one, who was grappling with Marcus, jumped back and went to the leader, who picked up his knife but hesitated to approach.

I didn't see the fourth katoey. The one rolling on the ground with sand in his eyes half-ran to his two friends, spitting sand and blood and glaring at us. I helped Marcus up – he probably looked worse than he was but he looked like shit. I looked on at the katoeys as I made several steps toward the water, reached down and began rinsing sand out of my cut. The cut wasn't deep but it bled and hurt and I thought that it would be pretty bad news if I got it infected.

The katoeys and we looked at each other, breathing hard, spitting sand and wiping off blood and sweat. We were about thirty feet apart and neither of us wanted to get closer – we were too evenly matched.

"Come on, bro," Marcus said after he caught his breath and calmed his heartbeat. "We gotta go." We heard a voice in the distance, one of the three katoeys yelled something in Thai. "Come on, let's go, we gotta go."

We went. Slowly, sideways, never losing sight of the katoeys, we made our way to the lit up street. The katoeys followed us at about the same distance of thirty-fifty feet, glaring but not threatening. We kept walking. They kept following.

Finally, when we were within sprinting distance from the light, Marcus suddenly bolted toward the street. The katoeys started after us and I followed him to the street, setting the world record for a short distance sprint. Once hitting the lit street (and a lot of shocked pedestrians) we turned around, fists up and ready for a fight. The katoeys were jogging away into the darkness of the beach.


We started to get attention. People started looking, pointing and whispering. We decided all attention was bad attention, so we looked around and briskly turned into a side street and then an alley. There were far fewer people here and we walked a little calmer. I was still holding my arm, which still bled a little and we kept our eyes open for any place where we can get ourselves in order.

"Ah, my friend, what happened?"

My friend gave a start – he didn't notice the Indian that came out from a clothing store. The guy sounded friendly and smiled but his voice had a tone of mild concern.

"What happened, my friend, are you okay?" He asked again.

We stopped. "Do you have water? Bottled water? And alcohol?" I pointed to my arm. "You know, alcohol? To clean? Alcohol." I let go of my cut, pulled out a wallet and carefully, trying not to stain the money, pulled out one thousand baht – about thirty dollars at the time.

"Ahh!" The Indian smiled. "Yes, yes, alcohol, water, please, come in, okay, yes?"

Yes. We came in. He walked us through the store past the gauntlet of surprised staff (three people) and opened a door to a small but clean bathroom. He left but soon came back with a first aid kit in English and Thai. We didn't need the English, the kit was self-explanatory.

We took turns washing out our respective cuts, scrapes, and scratches, and applied liberal amounts of alcohol everywhere where there was blood. I bandaged my arm; we put several band-aids here and there, patched ourselves up, took off and threw our shirts in the trash bin, and walked out in dirty, blood-stained t-shirts. If we had more muscle, we would have prize fighters. As it were, we just looked like we had our asses kicked, which was basically the truth.

The Indian guy got up from his chair and walked up to us. "Now you buy shirt, yes?"

"Fucking shameless!" I said quietly to Marcus.

He chuckled, amused. "We need clean t-shirts, at least."

"T-shirt – no problem. T-shirt, shirt, two for forty dollars, yes?"

"Fuck, man, I just paid you, what, like thirty…" I started but Marcus interrupted. "That's fine, get us clean t-shirts and we'll pick good shirts."

Gleeful, the Indian said something to one of his co-workers. The man got up, briskly walked outside and jogged off to the right, opposite of the way we came. The Indian showed us the shirts and we each picked a neutral one. The dispatched Indian came back with a packet of t-shirts, [etc etc]

[we went to a café, ate and laughed about getting our asses kicked by girls.]
Night of the Living Daveobliterati on January 17th, 2008 06:33 pm (UTC)
I would love to give this a shot actually. I'm a writer and have been to Thailand, how many words are you looking for?
x_windansea_x on January 17th, 2008 06:43 pm (UTC)
Maybe around 5,000. More is fine.
Night of the Living Daveobliterati on January 17th, 2008 07:16 pm (UTC)
When do you need it by? Is there a particular style you'd prefer?
x_windansea_x on January 17th, 2008 10:38 pm (UTC)
I'm looking to mimic the narrator - have it well-written, but interesting and playful, recounting stupid adventures and laughing about them. I don't have a particular deadline except that I'm looking to get this done as soon as possible, because I have other work to do, as well.
x_windansea_x on January 17th, 2008 10:46 pm (UTC)
btw, do you have similar fiction to show as an example of your writing, or maybe if you want to take a few paragraphs and rewrite them to show what you can turn this into, and if it's good, let's proceed.
zenith_sensoryzenith_sensory on January 17th, 2008 06:37 pm (UTC)
I like your scene background...have you ever been to thailand, or is this jsut a dream of yours?

you need to THROW your punches...you don't hit either here or there...it's pow in the pisser...smash on the instep...bang, you're down on your ass and kicking his feet out from under him and spring back up before body slamming him into the ground...

FAST hard...rahter like a quickie at 5:57am before hitting the showers and heading to off to class...

also, an outline is with numbers and whatnot

that is more like a scene sketch...
x_windansea_x on January 17th, 2008 06:46 pm (UTC)
No, I've actually been to Thailand, although I haven't fought trannies there. But I heard that they rob people on the beach, so that's the inspiration.

As to the outline/scene, I know it's not perfect, it's just a sketch. That's why I'm looking for a writer, who can make for a better fight. And if there's more to add to the chapter to make it a full chapter, then great, we can do that, too. Or this can go as the second half of a chapter, since it is evening after all, so John and Marcus did something in the day time, too.
Og the Man-Animalbowl9644 on January 17th, 2008 09:09 pm (UTC)
Hiya. I saw (actually was directed to) your post on wordtheory. I'm interested in this thing you propose. I would like to know more about it. What's your plan, what are you going for, where are you headed, what are you putting together, and where are the biscuits? You know, just general information.

Hit me back.
Og the Man-Animal: devil underwoodbowl9644 on January 17th, 2008 09:11 pm (UTC)
also: I'm glad you exist, because I don't know anyone else who might have put the image of a tranny-fight on the beach in Thailand into my brain. And I am very happy to have gained that one.
x_windansea_x on January 17th, 2008 10:40 pm (UTC)
As I said above, "I'm looking to mimic the narrator - have it well-written, but interesting and playful, recounting stupid adventures and laughing about them. I don't have a particular deadline except that I'm looking to get this done as soon as possible, because I have other work to do, as well."

I'm looking for a competent writer to turn this outline into a bigger chapter, expand it, make it flow, etc, and make it interesting to read. Once someone agrees, we can agree on a fair payment and get started. I'm hoping to get this done sooner rather than later.
Og the Man-Animalbowl9644 on January 18th, 2008 02:49 am (UTC)
I'll give it a shot.
x_windansea_x on January 19th, 2008 06:14 pm (UTC)
Have I emailed you back after you said you'll give it a shot? It's kind of hard to keep track over LJ.
Og the Man-Animalbowl9644 on January 19th, 2008 09:42 pm (UTC)
nope, not yet
raven_delajour on January 17th, 2008 11:59 pm (UTC)
I'm definitely interested in this little project that you have. I have my writing here if you want to check it out: http://Writing.Com/authors/dayzd89
I'm pretty much open to anything.
Elegy for Lifeelegyforlife on January 18th, 2008 04:23 pm (UTC)

So it's just this chapter you want expanded or other chapters as well? I definitely saw a few typos / errors. Would you like those corrected in the process? Or would you just like me to point them out here?

I would definitely give it a shot, at the very least. Did you mean you wanted it expanded by at least 5,000 words or just want the total to come out to 5,000?

As soon as you message back, I'll work on it and hopefully have something for you by Sunday. =)
Elegy for Lifeelegyforlife on January 18th, 2008 07:45 pm (UTC)

Well, I was working on it a bit today, and added close to 1200 words to it, in addition to correcting and editing some of the previous stuff. But I'm not sure about the direction you want to go in, so if you want to, I'll send you what I wrote up today and you can tell me if that's the way you want to go. If it is, then I'll continue working on it.

If not, then I quit lol XD Give me your email soon as you can and I'll email it to you.
hopelessnessxhopelessnessx on January 22nd, 2008 12:41 am (UTC)
Well then
Oh what the hell. I have nothing better to do, and I just finished my first chapter of another story. Well then, I'll try. Message me if you have anything new you want.... I'll start NOW. :D