Plays well with scissors...

...or should that be, runs well with others?

Whichever it should be, they both bring to mind the current writing activity in which I'm involved. More of that in a moment.

When I think, or certainly thought, of writing, a solitary time at a keyboard, typewriter or pad and pens are images that spring to mind. Ideas, words, worlds welling up and flowing (or trickling sometimes - blood-from-stone-like) onto the screen/paper/page.

And so it's been mostly. Me, a pen (or several), a writing pad (or several) and away I scribble, long into the night. The results have not been bad. Sometimes, even, they've been good. And once or twice, only a few times, they have astonished me.

Of late, there's been something else. Absolutely. She who signs herself, Absolutely*Kate, and who writes and showcases writing at At the Bijou tapped me on the shoulder (virtually that is - and on my virtual shoulder at that) and suggested a duet, a sharing of the writing task.

*Kate is fond of my writing style and it is to understate it to say I am enamored of hers. *Kate has a fluidity with language that inspires - and makes me laugh (when it's not making me envious.)

I had an opening scene with some strong characters, sent it to her and got by return mail (e-mail, that is) this impassioned plea to be permitted to play with these characters. I am many things, stupid isn't one of them (mostly), and so I said "Yes".

We've traded stanzas of this evolving story back and forth between us - all the while maintaining a correspondence covering/suggesting back story, time and place, and about whom the story will finally be (that's still on-going, I'm not sure the characters are ready to tell us yet).

Characters have come bounding out of the woodwork to take a twirl on the dance floor (there was an actual dance floor in the 2nd and 3rd stanzas).

What is surprising to me is the in-tuneness that *Kate and I share about the story. I had thought two of the characters would need to talk, only to find that the meeting was set up by *Kate in her stanza - without discussion on the point between us. There have been other such serendipities.

This collaborative (co-laborare - to work together if I have my Latin correct) approach is new for me. We moved the home state of some of the characters and shifted time back some thirty-odd years - all without a hitch. We're still hunting around for the thrust of the story, which promises to grow to quite a serious length, but are piling up potential - the discharge of which will provide a very satisfying plot (I think).

I do not recommend this approach to anyone - because I do not recommend any approach to anyone. I don't know enough to make recommendations (other than to write - for that is what writers do, write, and we short-change ourselves when we don't.)

But, should some collaborate in a similar or dissimilar way - I can only wish that you enjoy it as much as *Kate and I are enjoying it.

Duet - in the key of C

A Duet in the Key of C

~ By Absolutely*Kate and Kevin J. Mackey

"Steve. Steve." 

Steven Bradford turned in his chair at the sound of his name, and stood. Tony Callini was bearing down on him, but it was the woman with Tony that drew Steven from his seat. 

She was tall, would be even without heels. Her eyes, the clearest shade of blue Steven had ever seen, seemed to be dancing with some private amusement. The same amusement was playing on lips coated a very pale pink. 

An asymmetric gown, midnight blue and baring one shoulder, hugged her figure. It covered everything and hid little. 

"This is --" Tony began. 

"Carolina," she said. Smooth, open vowels and Steven caught just the hint of the "r" in her name. 

Carolina offered her hand, slim and warm in white elbow gloves. She offered it, fingers together, arching downwards. Steven had to fight the urge to touch his lips to them. He looked up and caught another hint of amusement. 

"So, that's it then," Tony said. "I've done my part, yes?" 

Carolina turned her head to him, her hand still in Steven's. He felt her fingers tighten a shade more, ensuring he still held her hand. 

"Yes," she said, "you're finished now, darling Tony." Carolina turned back to Steven. 

Steven blinked at the most complete dismissal he had ever heard, and then shook himself. 

"Forgive me," he said, "I've forgotten my manners. I'm Steven, Steven Bradford." 

Her smile flashed, a row of neat, white teeth on display for an instant.

"Carolina, as I said. Carolina Beatrice Templeton." She smiled again and shrugged slightly. Steven's eyes drifted over the light dusting of freckles on her bare right shoulder before being captured again by her eyes.

"An old family," she said, "fond of inflicting dignified names on wayward children."

Steven smiled in return. "Oh I am sure you are very dignified."

Her smile just broadened. 

"Steve?" Alice, Steve's date for the evening,  joined them. Steven released Carolina's hand, noticing as he did so a slight reluctance. He turned to Alice.

"Alice," he said, a shade too brightly. "This is Carolina, Carolina Templeton. A friend . . . of Tony's." 

It seemed to Steven, reflecting later, that the temperature around their little group dropped.

"Alice," Carolina said, "so pleased to make your acquaintance." 

  

"Likewise, I'm sure," Alice replied. 

Steven noticed neither woman moved to touch the other. 

Alice took Steven's arm in hers. 

"Steve," she said, "we really must go and say 'hello' to Sandra and her husband." 

Steven looked at Alice and then back to Carolina. 

"Steven," Carolina said, "you mustn't let me keep you from enjoying yourself." She paused a moment and then looked directly into his eyes. "I hope you will allow me to call on you sometime. Tony has told me so much about your work." 

"Certainly," Steven said, and felt Alice's fingers digging into his arm. "Call me anytime."

Carolina smiled. "I may call on you anytime?"

Steven kept his face straight even though Alice was beginning to leave marks on his arm. "Yes," he said, "please do." 

"Gift for gift," Carolina mused, her voice soft. She smiled again. "Well then, I will leave you two lovely people to enjoy yourselves." 

She smiled again at Steven and nodded to Alice. Then, turning on her heel, she made her way gracefully across the room. As she walked, Steven was captivated by the gentle swaying of her hips. 

"Steve," Alice said in a loud whisper, "stop staring at her. Who is she anyway?" 

Steven tore his gaze away from Carolina just as she left the room. He turned to Alice. 

"Just a friend of Tony's," he said, "like I told you." 

"A friend of Tony's," Alice said, her mouth drawn into a thin line. "So, where is he then, Tony?

Steven looked around the room. Tony was not to be seen. He smiled and guided Alice towards Sandra and her husband. "He stepped out shortly before you arrived. I'm sure Carolina's gone to find him." 

Alice's reply was unconvinced, but she allowed herself to be steered towards her friend, Sandra. It was, after all, in the opposite direction to the one Carolina had taken. 

 ~ ~ ~

There were actually many opposite directions steered into when folks first made the acquaintance of Carolina Beatrice Templeton. Something about a nature that daunts always veers it so. The Templetons of Montgomery came from old money, dusty money, the kind of money not to shake a stick at, though few ever considered that. The Templetons were seen to be held in the highest regard -- from their open doors on every side of the wide-planked veranda on Magnolia Lane which welcomed friend and stranger alike right on into an iced pitcher of mint juleps, to the family trait of dancing eyes. Oh how the Templeton's eyes danced, waltzed, even tangoed. Midst amusement never veiled and down right chortling guffaws, the Templetons' family tree rollicked all its branches with the good humour that glided them in good stead through conference rooms and dance floors.

  

Carolina Beatrice Templeton was a gliding light on the dance floor this night, changing partners left and right. 

Nodding in commiseration to Sandra's story about the gardener mistaking the potato patch for placement of the daylily bulbs, Alice's peripheral vision caught flash after flash of midnight blue. Much to her chagrin, Steven, who could care less about potato patches gone askew, was sporting a new level of intensity in his own regard for that vivid flash of midnight blue.

  

Bristling but a bit, Alice bolstered, rebuking herself to be a far better champ at holding her own. "Excuse us Sandra," she smiled. "Steven, I dare say this is our song. Shall we? Shall we dance?"

  

Strains of Some Enchanted Evening swirled the perfumed air, the evening's mood and the soft gliding collision of what dancers had on their minds in the New York minutes of a sultry Saturday night.

  

Carolina Beatrice Templeton had plenty on hers. And how convenient, she noticed, that the malice of Alice would bring her honey directly to the bait. The white gloved fingers of her right hand stroked tenderly the back of the neck of the broad suited shoulders who happened to be her current dance partner. Her throat arched back with a tinkling of musical laughter to something dashing or distinguished he'd just said. What was his name again? Tom? Dick? Harry?

 ~ ~ ~

There I was, with a great character, a great setup, and then...nothing. "Go," said I, "do something. I promise to record it faithfully."

Carolina glanced at me over one bare shoulder, sniffed and began tapping one delicate foot, all the while examining a spot two deliberate inches above my head.

Happily, the Universe reached out, tapped Absolutely*Kate on the shoulder and whispered, "I wouldn't ask usually, but he's stranded and seriously in need of help. A duet, perhaps?"

Mercifully, dropping as the gentle rain from Heaven, she consented. And Carolina and crew took to dancing while we chase madly after them, scribbling.

The above two stanzas of the duet are a sneak preview of whatever-this-is. The year is '76 (19, that is), the place New York (though Carolina's not from there). It's a messy political, financial world (is "messy" redundant there?).


We are hosting this preview on both of our blogs - here and at At The Bijou where *Kate features terrific writing (much of it hers), popcorn for all and wonderful call-outs from the Great American Songbook. Go there, and be wowed.

Also (there's more?), we wondered if you have ideas for the fun and games our characters might indulge in...

Enjoy - and thanks!