Not so much while I'm reading.
But when I am writing fiction and am working through dialogue between one or more characters, I can sometimes hear their conversation, in their voices, and, quite often, I have trouble keeping up with jotting down everything they are saying.
Such as this running exchange between several different individuals in a story.
I remember writing this part, in the middle of the night, at a second job, while nothing else was going on. It was almost to the point where I had to ask them to repeat what they had said because I can't type that fast.
(
quoted material)
...
"Catching anything?" Heather asked me. She too had been ready since about six AM.
"Couple little caribe that didn't know any better."
She laughed at me. "I know those are piranha."
"Rick! There you are." Martin called to me.
"I've been here all morning."
"Gus is looking for you. He's in there." Martin pointed to the small trading post and restaurant that had become our unofficial headquarters.
"On my way." I reeled in my line and folded up my pole.
"He probably wants to assign you a radio." Heather said patting a small GMRS radio hanging on her belt.
"I don't want a radio."
"Tough." Martin said.
I put my rod down and sighed. "I'm going. I'm doing."
The trading post had been absolutely alive for the last couple of days with our people and an ever increasing assortment of locals who came in to see us and what amounted to our sideshow.
"Ahh, good." Gus said when I walked in. "Where's your other sidearm? You had two."
"Packed in a waterproof case. With another two hundred rounds as backup." I said.
"Good thinking." He eyed the pistol in its holster. "You live?"
I drew it out and checked the safety, then I ejected the clip and showed him the hollow point rounds. "Ready to party."
"Very good. An unloaded weapon is useless." He checked off something on the clipboard he had been living with since we had got to town. "We are on channel seven. It is already programmed." Gus handed me an identical radio to the one Heather had with a small bag that contained a headset and the belt clip. They were a new edition of the same heavy duty field radios we had used with the oil company. They had an impressive range and were all but indestructible. And I had heard stories about them still working even while under water.
I looked at the radio and turned it on then keyed it to talk. "Rick to the world. Radio check." I said into it.
In a second Girard answered. "Five by five as they say Rick."
"Roger. Merci beaucoup monsieur." I answered then I clipped it to my belt. "How are we fixed for batteries?" I asked the security man as I tugged on it to make sure it was secure.
"The ones in there should last the entire trip, but I have enough backups for everybody to change out twice."
I nodded. The one thing I had learned about Gus was that he really believed in backups. And backups to backups. For instance. Not only did every boat with a motor have a set of oars on board, they also had folding paddles under the seats. Gus believed in being ready for anything.
(end quote)
the '
rest of the story' (FOR FREE!)
http://www.themediadesk.com/newfiles5/monkey.htm
300 Kilometers
-or-
The Monkey
Inspired by The Desk's youngest daughter's memory of a 'scary monkey'.
[warning- some scenes may upset some readers. ]
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