HobokenSweat
Problem
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2025
- Posts
- 19
I like my characters to have jobs. Real ones. Not just as flavor, but as anchors. I kind of expect them to, honestly—it’s one of the first things I decide, usually even before they get a line of dialogue. Carrie works at CVS. So does Valeria. Squirrel is an accountant, buttoned-up and precise in ways that mask chaos. Zach moves boxes in a warehouse and likes the silence. The CVS itself—fluorescent-lit and stocked with mundanity—has served as a stage more than once. A confessional, a battleground, a place where shit happens.
(Unpublished) Lena is a meter maid. I'm not even sure if we have those any longer. Lottie was an author before she died, or more accurately, Greta was an author. Amy P and Amy H work in some office. Even Eudora, (Very) Minor Goddess of Scheduling Conflicts, is technically at work when she's fucking with people's Outlook calendar and Teams invites.
I do have an unpublished story about two women who are so outrageously wealthy that Europe functions more like a house to them. Rome to Berlin is as big a deal as a walk to the kitchen. They flit between cities the way I move from couch to desk. But even with that kind of money, their wealth isn’t an escape from the everyday—it’s a trap that makes the everyday feel fake. The point isn’t that they’ve transcended life’s nonsense, it’s that the nonsense doesn’t even register anymore. Their boredom is a luxury I envy and mistrust at the same time. I guess what I'm saying is, the one time I've used financial security wasn't a crutch, but a story element in and of itself.
(Unpublished) Lena is a meter maid. I'm not even sure if we have those any longer. Lottie was an author before she died, or more accurately, Greta was an author. Amy P and Amy H work in some office. Even Eudora, (Very) Minor Goddess of Scheduling Conflicts, is technically at work when she's fucking with people's Outlook calendar and Teams invites.
I do have an unpublished story about two women who are so outrageously wealthy that Europe functions more like a house to them. Rome to Berlin is as big a deal as a walk to the kitchen. They flit between cities the way I move from couch to desk. But even with that kind of money, their wealth isn’t an escape from the everyday—it’s a trap that makes the everyday feel fake. The point isn’t that they’ve transcended life’s nonsense, it’s that the nonsense doesn’t even register anymore. Their boredom is a luxury I envy and mistrust at the same time. I guess what I'm saying is, the one time I've used financial security wasn't a crutch, but a story element in and of itself.

