Well here we are! My plan with FFF was to force myself to write outside of NaNoWriMo, and while I missed a few weeks, I've still written pretty consistently for the entire year. And some of the stories I rather like.

Thanks to everyone who read the stories and gave me feedback through the year!

What next? NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow at midnight. I'll probably post some snippets here throughout the month. And after that I might continue with the stories. Not every week, 'cause there's other things I want to work on. But perhaps one or two per month. There's also a 42nd story (that I actually began before this one) that I set aside because I was having trouble making it work. So if I have a chance, I might try to whip it into shape and post it sometime in November.

---

The Guidebook

1.

Pamela and Nora walk down the road. The backpacks strapped to their shoulders have little flags sewn onto them. The street is cobbled and the buildings along it are run down. Mostly shops that the locals would patronize, albeit with a few desultory nods to the tourist trade: a neon sign here, a display of postcards and cheap, made-in-China local souvenirs there. One of the convenience stores advertises bottles of the popular local alcoholic drink. The cars parked on the street are older models; some look like they've been there forever and some look like they might never move again.

Pamela says, "I wonder what the graffiti means? I wish I read French. I wonder if graffiti is universal? How do you say, 'For a good time call' in French?"

Nora is paging through her guidebook and doesn't hear her companion.

"I thought you said this street was full of boutiques and pubs?"

Nora looks up. "I didn't say that. The guidebook said that. What's the street number on that video store over there?"

"You mean the adult video store. Two eighty-four."

"According to the guidebook it should be one of the best independent theatres in the city."

"I guess it depends on your definition. And anyway, you've had your nose in the book since we got off the train. You should be taking in the sights."

Nora points across the street, "Like that guy passed out over there?"

"Maybe it's siesta."

"We're not in Spain."

"Well anyway," Pamela stops walking, shifts her backpack around and rolls her shoulders, "we didn't come to be tourists and see every official site. We came for adventure, right?"

"I guess so. But I paid thirty bucks for this book and it would be lovely if it was even a little accurate. There's supposed to be three English-language independent bookshops on this street. Have you seen any bookshops at all?"

"Just the magazine stand back there. Why don't you just return it if it's no good?"

"I spilled a beer on it the other night."

Nora snorts and slaps the book closed. Then she turns to the title page.

"The publication date is from earlier this year. It's supposed to be the newest edition."

"Let's just find the hostel. Hopefully it's at least right about that."

2.

They do find the hostel where the street peters out into a cul-de-sac. The paint on the doorframe is peeling away and there is no sign, aside from the words "Yout hostel" stenciled onto the door. The 'h' has faded away completely.

The hostel turns out to be a converted three bedroom apartment and the front desk is manned by a bored teenager who informs Pamela and Nora that they'll be sharing a room with two other women. Cheap beer and popsicles are available for sale, in the fridge in the kitchen.

While Pamela introduces herself to some of the other guests and starts playing Nintendo with them in the hostel's common room — the apartments former living room — Nora uses the phone to call the company that producesdher guidebook.

"I'm sorry ma'am," the women Nora was eventually able to get a hold of tells her, "but we simply cannot guarantee perfect accuracy in our guidebooks. While we strive for the highest level of quality, obviously businesses come and go and —"

"But I'm not talking about a little typo here, a store that closed after you guys went to press there; I'm talking about some rather glaring problems."

"Can you give me a specific example of where the guidebook might differ from your experience in situ?"

"I looked up online the art museum your book says is next door to our hostel. It's actually in another country entirely. On one side is a laundromat and on the other is a vacant lot."

"Which city did you say you were calling from?"

Nora tells her and the woman responds, "Let me put you on hold for a moment."

Nora looks over to where Pamela is sharing sips from a beer with the guy sitting beside her on the couch. He has his arm around her shoulders. Pamela waves.

The hold music is Roam, by the B-52s.

Just before the song is over, there's a click and someone picks up the line.

"This is Daniel speaking, how may I help you?"

"What happened to the woman I was speaking with?"

"You've been escalated to tier two support. What exactly is the issue you are having with the guidebook?"

"Well, it kinda sucks, if you want to know the truth."

There's a pause before Daniel answers her.

"That's a bit broad and sweeping. What did you think of the prose?"

"The prose?"

"The style. Was it clear and engaging?"

"The writing was fine. It's the factual aspects I'm having some trouble with. According to it the hostel we're staying at is a renovated character home. But it's just a rundown apartment."

The teenager behind the desk glares at her and Nora lowers her voice.

"It's chauvinism to suggest an apartment can't be a home," retorts Daniel.

"It also says it has a bar where the writer Jacques Poulin drank himself to death. Jacques Poulin is still alive. He has a new book out next fall."

"So then the guidebook really isn't inaccurate on that point."

"How can you possibly say that?"

"Well, he still has plenty of time to show up and drink himself to death, doesn't he? It's only really wrong if he drinks himself to death someplace else, or gets hit by a bus or something."

"That's ridiculous," Nora is holding the phone with one hand and with the other she's twisting her ponytail around and around. "And what about the jazz club that's supposed to be a few doors down?"

"There's no jazz club?"

Pamela has begun making out with the guy on the couch while the others in the living room continue playing video games.

"No."

"Sorry about that. But wouldn't it be great if there was?"

"What are you talking about?"

"A jazz club. Wouldn't it be great if there was one? That street's a little rundown, isn't it?"

"It isn't a great area, no."

"A jazz club would be good for the neighbourhood. Maybe help turn things around."

"That's all well and good but it doesn't do me much good."

"I'm just trying to look at the big picture. Let me confess something to you — I'm sorry, but I didn't get your name."

She tells him, and he continues. "Nora, I'm the fellow who wrote the guidebook. If you want one that's by-the-books, straight-and-narrow, factual, " she's sure she hear hears a disdainful tone at the word, "you should pick up our guide to Chicago. It's wonderfully accurate. But accuracy wasn't what I was trying to achieve with this one."

"And what were you trying to achieve?"

"I was sick and tired of writing travel books that just told you how things are. I decided to write about how things might be. How they should be. I'm an optimist is all."

The phone hangs on the wall in the apartment's front hall. Nora slumps against the door frame leading into the living room.

"But you're not a very good travel writer."

She hangs up the phone, walks outside and sits on the front steps of the apartment building. A man with a scraggly grey beard cycles down the street, jostling on the cobblestones. He is balancing a case of beer on his handlebar.

Nora tries to imagine the street as Daniel described it. Interesting little shops and cafes. People walking in groups discussing music and philosophy. Music from a band playing on a patio.

The door opens behind her and Pamela sticks her head out.

"You better get in here quick and claim a bunk. Some of them smell like piss."

2 responses to "Week #41 - The Guidebook "

Ryan wrote: Thursday, 04 Dec 2008 22:36 I *love* the idea of this. I mean, the execution of the story is good, too, but I love the idea.

Victoria wrote: Monday, 29 Dec 2008 20:54 That was - unexpected. And rather funny, so long as I'm not the one stuck in a terrible hostel on a street like that. :P

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