Vigilante Justice
I've been worried since I finished up NaNoWriMo that perhaps I'd given downtown Vancouver a little of a hard time of it all. I had wanted to capture the sort of grittiness and heterogeneity of the Granville St area and some of the downtown east side, but thought maybe, especially for people who weren't able to understand it all in context, that it might give a bad first impression, and that even though in a way the book so far is sort of a love letter for my city, strangers might perceive it as exactly the opposite.
I also worried that perhaps I'd taken some of the fictionalized elements a little too far, as they relate to drugs, violence, and homelessness, and were a bit atypical.
That was before, when browsing around at Golden Age Comics on Friday night, two apparently homeless guys got into a shouting match because one was asserting to the other (with good reason) that the doorway of a bookstore was no place to smoke his crack.
"What the hell was that?!?" one of the store patrons had asked when the scene was dispersed.
"Beats me," replied the owner. "Some kind of homeless vigilante justice, apparently."
Perhaps I still have some more material I can safely squeeze in. . . .
I also worried that perhaps I'd taken some of the fictionalized elements a little too far, as they relate to drugs, violence, and homelessness, and were a bit atypical.
That was before, when browsing around at Golden Age Comics on Friday night, two apparently homeless guys got into a shouting match because one was asserting to the other (with good reason) that the doorway of a bookstore was no place to smoke his crack.
"What the hell was that?!?" one of the store patrons had asked when the scene was dispersed.
"Beats me," replied the owner. "Some kind of homeless vigilante justice, apparently."
Perhaps I still have some more material I can safely squeeze in. . . .