[tweetmeme source=”SharonGerlach” only_single=false service=”bit.ly”] Yeah yeah–another blogfest. Deal. I LOVE these things! I admit a lot of it is because they drive traffic to my blog, but even more importantly, they allow me to connect with other writers who are often willing to help me kill my darlings and zap my run-on sentences.
This blogfest–the Character Interview Blogfest, graciously hosted by Sangu Mandanna–is a little different than the ones in which I usually participate: a character interview rather than an excerpt from my actual work. The first character that popped into my head seemed a little too obvious to me to interview; after all, she virtually ran away with my second novel and made it her own (and I’m eternally grateful). But after I thought long and hard about it, she seemed the logical choice. My friend Nikki will need to read no further to know which character I chose. 😉
Be sure to visit the other blogs to read their entries!
Oh, and this blogfest post was supposed to be only 500-700 words long–not sure what you could have learned with that word limit–but I’ve been true to form and it’s ten times as long… As always, stop reading when you get bored. 😀♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
Thank you for visiting today. Writer Unleashed is happy to introduce Frannie Freeman, the main character from this writer’s second novel, Office Politics. Frannie, in a rare moment where she isn’t wired to some techno–pssst! Frannie! Put down the iPhone!–ah, as I was saying, in a rare moment where she isn’t wired to technology, Frannie has agreed to talk to us about her experiences in the world of a corporate office.
WU: Frannie, can you tell us a little bit about your work? What, exactly, do you do?
FF: I’m a ninja in a secret agency that incapacitates male chauvinist oinkers with a single kick to the groin.
WU: Secret ninja, eh? Anyone who knows you knows you can’t walk across the street without suffering a serious mishap.
FF *glowering and answering hastily*: Yes, well, all that aside… I’m really the supervisor for the Training Division of a reasonably large software development company.
WU: Which tells us very little.
FF: Well, I thought the word “training” sort of gave it away.
WU: Do you train your employees or your clients?
FF: Both, although I much prefer training our clients because most of them I never have to see again. When I train our employees, if I mess up or if they don’t want to learn, I have the face the ungrateful bas–ah–ingrates every day while attempting to curb my natural instinct to plant my high heel in their–
WU *interrupting quickly with a nervous glance at censors*: Those aren’t high heels. They’re pumps. An inch rise.
FF: What were you expecting? Blahniks? Ferragamos? I’d break my neck. Ah…you’re going to edit that out, right?
WU: No way! Now, Frannie, tell us a little bit about the grapevine in the corporate world. How efficient is it?
FF: Pretty damn efficient when spreading a rumor; pretty freaking slow when spreading the truth.
WU: Does that happen often–people offering up the truth, I mean?
FF: Sometimes. Like when my husband’s first wife shot him. There were–
WU: Whoa–wait! His first wife shot him?!
FF: Oh yeah. Malia’s a loon. She’s drank herself into near insanity–in fact, she currently resides in a padded room in a secure facility. I hear she sits at the window a lot and watches the squirrels outside. I can understand that. Squirrels are awesome. Just watching them running around trying to find all the nuts they stashed the pre–
WU: Frannie–the grapevine.
FF: Oh, yeah–shiny things. *laughs* There were lots of inaccurate rumors going around, you know–because Sam was my boss and all three of us worked in the same division; no one else would take her, she’s such a nightmare. Sam tried at first to quash them–the rumors, I mean, not the other division supervisors who wouldn’t take her–and when that didn’t work, he tried to derail them with just enough of the truth to still allow us to show our faces in public.
WU: Well, if she shot him, why would either of you have trouble showing your faces?
FF: There was that little matter of our relationship while he was still married to her–oh, was that out loud? *looks both mortified and resigned*
WU: Yeah, that was out loud. Let’s talk about that–you were seeing Sam before he divorced his first wife?
FF: *defensively* At first we thought he wasn’t really married. But then we found the marriage certificate, and that changed things. Eventually we learned she’d roofied him and dressed like me to lure him to the altar. This was in Las Vegas at a company party–never, ever get drunk at a company party. I’m just saying. You’ll do more than wear a lampshade on your head and lose the respect of all your colleagues. You’ll do stupid shi–er–stuff like marrying your from-hell office manager. I mean, yeah, she’s great to look at, but even he said the sex wasn’t that great. She just laid–
WU: *interrupts loudly* So how long did he stay with her? I’d think he’d have gotten out of that fast, seeing as he was tricked.
FF: *rolls eyes* God, no! He stayed with her for two years. He felt sorry for her.
WU: She roofied him, tricked him into marrying her, and he felt sorry for her? Why?
FF: He’s a man. In other words, an idiot.
WU: But you married him. Once he was divorced, I mean.
FF: Yeah. He may be an idiot, but he’s my idiot. *smiles serenely* But back to the office. Training–yeah, I train staff and clients how to use the software we develop–I remember this one time our booth at the convention center caught on fire…
WU: No no–back to you and Sam. I want to hear more about that.
FF: Are you a gossip columnist or a respectable blogger?
WU: Can’t I be both tonight?
FF: *laughing* Oh, why not?
WU: How did she find out about you and him?
FF: Oh, he told her. We were off and on for a while–while she was in and out of rehab–I did tell you she drinks, right? Well, she came to the office one day while she was supposed to be in the Betty Ford. Checked herself right out, got behind the wheel of her Porsche and behind a bottle of good scotch. I came around the corner and right into her path at the wrong damn moment. *laughs reminiscently* She took a swing, missed, fell into me and dragged me and my friend Stella down. I was caught in the middle of a Stella-Malia sandwich, getting my ass kicked from both sides. Sam said later if it hadn’t been for his screeching shrew of a wife being involved, that might have been a really hot fantasy for later–
WU: Aaaahhhh…*taking cue from censors* Well, Frannie, that’s all the time we have tonight. Thanks for stopping by. *unclips microphone and speaks in an aside to Frannie* Let’s go get a margarita. I want to hear the rest of that story!
FF *shaking her head*: Margaritas again. Did I ever tell you about the time I was out with the girls, drinking margaritas, and asked my boss for a screaming orgasm? The drink–the drink!!!
Office Politics is currently being revised and edited so that it can once again strut along Query Street like a prostitute on Sunset Boulevard. I am completely unashamed to be its pimp. 😉