My local writer’s society is pretty cool. This coolness was solidified yesterday when we took a field trip to a gun range and shot stuff for half an hour. A gun range field trip, you ask? Who in their right mind would take you to a gun range?
Allow me to explain.
The basic theory here is that we writers like to write about all manner of things we haven’t actually experienced. I, for example, like to write about trigger-happy, abduction-prone six-armed lizard people with a curious predilection for the color blue. Have I actually been abducted by aliens, or met a six-armed lizard man? Of course not. Well, not that I would admit to. Anyway, my point is that we writers, despite our “write what you know” rule, tend to grossly violate that rule on a regular basis.
Hence our trip to the gun range. While it’s fairly difficult to experience alien abduction, it’s quite easy to experience shooting a gun. And if you know how to shoot a gun, it gives your gun-shooting bad boy an extra air of authenticity when you put pen to paper. So I guess the moral of this story is that you should immediately go find a gun range and shoot stuff because it’s super fun. Just make sure you don’t have a comically large head (like me) or else the noise-cancelling earphones they supply will squeeze your skull until your brains pop out of your ears.
So they gave us four guns to try out — in no particular order, a 9mm, a 22 caliber, a 40 caliber, and a revolver. I probably got those names all wrong, because guns baffle me, but the point is they gave us a bunch of guns and it was awesome. The revolver was the most fun because, hey, it’s a revolver. The 40 caliber was the most terrifying, because when you shoot a bullet, the casing explodes out the top of the gun and goes rocketing wildly through the air. I managed to avoid being hit by flying casings, but my brother had a couple bounce off his head. He’s a bit traumatized by the incident, but I’ve been trying to coax him out of the darkest corner of his bedroom with freshly baked cookies with some success, so no harm done.
All in all, a very amusing trip, and one that has left my arms very sore due to the fact that guns are shockingly heavy. I have a handful of bullet casings sitting on my shelf now as mementos from the trip, as well as the cardboard target I was inexpertly shooting at. Apparently I aim high when I shoot, so pro tip if you ever get into a gun fight with me: duck.
Unrelated media of the day: