Helping Me Help You Help Me

Publish date:

Last summer, I took a lit course on postmodern fiction. It was a
sampling of different postmodern authors from Pynchon and Burroughs
to Foster-Wallace and Mark Leyner and, aside from being a very good
course, it had some sort of impact on my writing. As several peer-
pressure induced incidents in my life can attest (wearing my sister's
deodorant on a hilarious "double dare", drinking Kahlua mixed with
OJ, bleaching my hair in my basement bathroom the day before soccer
tryouts sophomore year of high school, etc), I can be easily
influenced, and my writing bears that same mark. For shame.

Post-course, I spent several weeks trying to incorporate "postmodern"
influences into my writing. But then I realized--in some sort of meta-
philosophical postmodern moment while I (might have) been watching
the Matrix-- that by even trying to utilize "postmodern" influences,
I was going against the whole point of postmodernism, which is to
challenge using a standard template. So I scrapped trying to think
about it like that, and just decided to do whatever pleased my
writerly palate.

Now usually I'm very secretive about what I have going on in my book,
for fear that people will copy my ideas and then do a much, much
better job using them and get their work out before me, so that--in
the end--when I complain about someone jacking my ideas, I just kind
of look like (more of a) whiny (you fill in the swear word here). And that, as my editor might
say, is not poison. But today I will reveal my idea. It is neither
original, nor is it very good, and my thesis adviser calls it
"unnecessarily risky to the point of stupidity" but I remain unfazed because,
like Mary J. Blige, "I don't need no hateration."

Anyway, this is the idea: There is one particular scene in my book
that is includes a college bar fight. Yawn, right? College bar fights
happen all of the time at colleges and bars, especially colleges with
fraternities and/or varsity football. But, wait! For this particular
scene and this particular scene only, I have set up the entire thing
like you're reading a play script complete with stage directions and
all of that jazz. Eat that, Foster Wallace. Postmodern genuisocity

I know, I know, it's a great idea, and I will no doubt probably make
Outside Magazine's 2008-2009 Winter Hot List. But there remains a
chink in my seemingly invincible use of armor. Problem is, I don't
really know how to write a play script. Like, not at all. So I need
to look at some examples of actual play scripts so I can mimic the
form and make sure it's exactly as I want it. And problem #2: I can't
seem to find any of this business via Ask Jeeves. Which is where you,
friends, come in.

If someone can find an example online of a useful play script that
has all of the necessary bells and whistles (stage directions,
dialogue, etc) that I can access via me clicking something using my
mouse, I will do you a solid by linking to the 80s or early 90s
artists music video of your choosing. You simply select the artist
and allow me to use my YouTubing skill set to find an appropriate
tasteful vid. Unfortunately for the music community, I will only put
up a link to the first person who submits successfully. The rest I
will hold very close to my heart and burn onto a mix CD that I will
give to the Big Cat for Valentine's Day.

Heat of,
the moment


PS- I feel this anecdote sums up nicely the state of the New England
sporting community post Patriots Super Bowl loss. Heard outside of my
apt minutes after the loss: a college age dude in a white Brady
jersey talking to another dude wearing a blue Bruschi Pats jersey:
"It's not just that I feel let down, I just...I just...I don't even
Friend: "Sucks, man."
Brady Jersey: "Oh, f***. You know what I just remembered?"
Friend: "What?"
Brady Jers: "Valentines Day."
Friend: "Yeah."
Brady Jers: "February is gonna suck."

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