You gotta start somewhere. Here's as good as any. The first paragraph of the scene called "Click"
Click, click, click.
Half the bottle of Jack is already gone and the best I can find on TV are re-runs of trivia game shows. I have the bottle by the neck hanging at the side of my recliner. My other hand is busy working the remote. The light from the TV strobes against the walls in rhythm with my thumb. The room oscillates between blackness and hot, white flashes while I surf daytime programming. For seconds at a time the room is black hole empty. Then bright as the sun hiding behind closed curtains. Half full. Half empty. Just like my bottle.
More to come...
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Click: Elements of a Scene, Part I
I just started working on a new chapter and I thought I'd document my process. Before and After and all the work between. I'm calling this chapter/scene "Click" and all I did to start was write the dialog back-and-forth between Jerry and his girlfriend, Jill. Very bare bones right now, but my hope is that you get to watch this scene flesh out.
Jerry: What are you doing?
Jill: I have something to tell you.
Jerry: Well this is just going to make it hard to understand you
...
Jerry: So what's this for?
Jill: (mumbling)
Jerry: What's that?
Jill: What's the matter, baby?
Jerry: (slugs a gulp of Jack)
Jill: What is this?
Jerry: Look, just gimme a minute, okay?
Jill: No, Jerry (pulls a gun out of the chair) what the fuck is this?
Jerry: (finishes the bottle)
Jill: Jerry! Who's is this?
Jerry: Okay, calm down a second.
Jill: There's a gun stuck in your chair. A gun with bullets in your chair.
Jerry: Yes. No.
Jill: You don't even own a gun! Who's gun is this?
Jerry: Jill, just give me a second.
Jill: What are you doing with it? What are you doing with a loaded gun in this house?
Jerry: Look, it's not even loaded.
Jill: I don't care! What if we had a kid and she found THIS in her daddy's recliner?
Jerry: What are you talking about? It's not loaded.
Jill: What if she picked it up?
Jerry: Well we don't have to fucking worry about that, do we?
Jill: ...
Jerry: Do we!
Jill: ...
Jerry: Do we?
Jill: ...
Jerry: Jill, what did you want to tell me before?
Jill: Is it loaded?
Jerry: What did you want to tell me?
Jill: Tell me this gun isn't loaded.
Jerry: Jill--
Jill: Tell me you weren't lying to me!
Jerry: It's not loaded.
Jill: Swear.
Jerry: I swear.
Jill: On my life? (raises gun to her head)
Jerry: Jill, don't be stupid
Jill: Swear.
Jerry: Jill
Jill: On your child's life? (lowers gun to her stomach)
Jerry: ...
Jill: ...
Jerry: You said 'she' before.
Jill: ...
Jerry: You said 'what if SHE found it.'
Jill: You swear or you'll never find out.
Click?
Jerry: What are you doing?
Jill: I have something to tell you.
Jerry: Well this is just going to make it hard to understand you
...
Jerry: So what's this for?
Jill: (mumbling)
Jerry: What's that?
Jill: What's the matter, baby?
Jerry: (slugs a gulp of Jack)
Jill: What is this?
Jerry: Look, just gimme a minute, okay?
Jill: No, Jerry (pulls a gun out of the chair) what the fuck is this?
Jerry: (finishes the bottle)
Jill: Jerry! Who's is this?
Jerry: Okay, calm down a second.
Jill: There's a gun stuck in your chair. A gun with bullets in your chair.
Jerry: Yes. No.
Jill: You don't even own a gun! Who's gun is this?
Jerry: Jill, just give me a second.
Jill: What are you doing with it? What are you doing with a loaded gun in this house?
Jerry: Look, it's not even loaded.
Jill: I don't care! What if we had a kid and she found THIS in her daddy's recliner?
Jerry: What are you talking about? It's not loaded.
Jill: What if she picked it up?
Jerry: Well we don't have to fucking worry about that, do we?
Jill: ...
Jerry: Do we!
Jill: ...
Jerry: Do we?
Jill: ...
Jerry: Jill, what did you want to tell me before?
Jill: Is it loaded?
Jerry: What did you want to tell me?
Jill: Tell me this gun isn't loaded.
Jerry: Jill--
Jill: Tell me you weren't lying to me!
Jerry: It's not loaded.
Jill: Swear.
Jerry: I swear.
Jill: On my life? (raises gun to her head)
Jerry: Jill, don't be stupid
Jill: Swear.
Jerry: Jill
Jill: On your child's life? (lowers gun to her stomach)
Jerry: ...
Jill: ...
Jerry: You said 'she' before.
Jill: ...
Jerry: You said 'what if SHE found it.'
Jill: You swear or you'll never find out.
Click?
Monday, January 3, 2011
The Quarter Life Crisis Hotline
“Keep your nose in those books so you can go to college and get a better job than your old man.”
Study hard and go to college. Keep studying hard and get a nice job in an air-conditioned office. That was the advice my old man gave me before he passed. Before I graduated high school. So that’s what I did. I studied really hard in high school so I could get into any college I wanted to, because while I was studying, I had no idea what school I wanted to go to. I got into a good one. Then I studied really hard in college so I could get any job I wanted, because while I was studying, I had no idea what kind of job I wanted. Again, I got a good one.
Somehow I became an auditor. It was the best-paying gig I could get out of school with a business degree. And now I don’t know what to do. Dad’s gone. You inherit vinyl collections, not life-guiding advice. My employer is saying that I should study for my CPA so that I can keep the job I have and rise up the rungs of the Corporate Audit ladder.
Thing is… I don’t want to be an auditor. That was never the plan. I just wanted a good job. I hated my accounting classes in college. I loved the writing classes I took, though. That’s where I developed the characters and the backbone of the story for Ginger Smoke.
I never wanted to be an auditor, and here I am, auditing. I studied for the first part of my CPA exam. I studied a lot. You need a 75 to pass each of the 4 parts of the exam. I got a 74.
I’ve heard it before, about the concept of a midlife crisis. You wake up one day in your forties and don’t know where the last 10 years or so of your life went. Well I woke up everyday this past year and wondered where my life was going.
I’m 2 months shy of 24. I have come to consider the past several months my “Quarter Life Crisis.”
I have already invested hours and hours of time into studying, and I was about to devote exponentially more into passing an exam to pursue a career I wanted no part of.
I cut my losses.
It’s terrifying to forfeit stability. I could have passed the exam and set myself up with a steady paycheck for the rest of my life. But the more I thought about it, the more I found the latter more terrifying. It’s also very liberating to give up the same notion of stability. I won’t be eligible for promotion in a few years without my certification. My job now has an expiration date.
You know what? It is thoroughly satisfying. I feel refreshed. Now I’m going to focus on my writing, because I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. I’m back to that old plan…
I’m going to keep my nose in this book.
Study hard and go to college. Keep studying hard and get a nice job in an air-conditioned office. That was the advice my old man gave me before he passed. Before I graduated high school. So that’s what I did. I studied really hard in high school so I could get into any college I wanted to, because while I was studying, I had no idea what school I wanted to go to. I got into a good one. Then I studied really hard in college so I could get any job I wanted, because while I was studying, I had no idea what kind of job I wanted. Again, I got a good one.
Somehow I became an auditor. It was the best-paying gig I could get out of school with a business degree. And now I don’t know what to do. Dad’s gone. You inherit vinyl collections, not life-guiding advice. My employer is saying that I should study for my CPA so that I can keep the job I have and rise up the rungs of the Corporate Audit ladder.
Thing is… I don’t want to be an auditor. That was never the plan. I just wanted a good job. I hated my accounting classes in college. I loved the writing classes I took, though. That’s where I developed the characters and the backbone of the story for Ginger Smoke.
I never wanted to be an auditor, and here I am, auditing. I studied for the first part of my CPA exam. I studied a lot. You need a 75 to pass each of the 4 parts of the exam. I got a 74.
I’ve heard it before, about the concept of a midlife crisis. You wake up one day in your forties and don’t know where the last 10 years or so of your life went. Well I woke up everyday this past year and wondered where my life was going.
I’m 2 months shy of 24. I have come to consider the past several months my “Quarter Life Crisis.”
I have already invested hours and hours of time into studying, and I was about to devote exponentially more into passing an exam to pursue a career I wanted no part of.
I cut my losses.
It’s terrifying to forfeit stability. I could have passed the exam and set myself up with a steady paycheck for the rest of my life. But the more I thought about it, the more I found the latter more terrifying. It’s also very liberating to give up the same notion of stability. I won’t be eligible for promotion in a few years without my certification. My job now has an expiration date.
You know what? It is thoroughly satisfying. I feel refreshed. Now I’m going to focus on my writing, because I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. I’m back to that old plan…
I’m going to keep my nose in this book.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Sanity, Sobriety, and Russian Roulette
Life can become insane.
I’m not speaking in hyperbole. I’m not speaking to the mental health of life, either. That’s not the kind of insane I’m talking about.
Alcoholics sometimes define insanity as ‘doing something over and over but expecting different results.’ Like binge drinking long enough to forget about life for a little bit, expecting a black out to fix the things that are broken. That’s why their second step has them believing in a ‘higher power’ that will restore their life to sanity.
Let’s play a game.
How many days do you find yourself spending half your waking hours sitting behind a television?
How many of those days do you spend doing what you really want to do?
How often is what you think you really want, really what you need?
We get caught up in routine, working jobs we don’t like to make money for things we don’t want. Somehow we think this life will make itself better. Maybe if we work long enough or make enough money. We get caught doing the same things over and over expecting this life we hardly live to get better. Life can become insane.
I imagine Jerry sitting across a table from Derek, head in his hands, listening to Derek talk about his life. Derek is incapable of living his life because he can’t remember it. Jerry realizes that Derek reached a point in which he is no longer living anymore. He’s just waiting to die.
“Let’s play a game,” Jerry will say, and pull out a revolver out from under the table.
Derek will ask “Are you insane?” And Jerry will reply “No, no, but by definition, YOU are.”
He’ll put one bullet into the revolver and he’ll tell Derek, “We avoid risks in life so we can make it safely to death. We have to take those risks and do something different to restore our lives to sanity.”
Jerry will spin the gun closed and hand it to Derek, and he’ll tell him, “Let’s get sober.”
I’m not speaking in hyperbole. I’m not speaking to the mental health of life, either. That’s not the kind of insane I’m talking about.
Alcoholics sometimes define insanity as ‘doing something over and over but expecting different results.’ Like binge drinking long enough to forget about life for a little bit, expecting a black out to fix the things that are broken. That’s why their second step has them believing in a ‘higher power’ that will restore their life to sanity.
Let’s play a game.
How many days do you find yourself spending half your waking hours sitting behind a television?
How many of those days do you spend doing what you really want to do?
How often is what you think you really want, really what you need?
We get caught up in routine, working jobs we don’t like to make money for things we don’t want. Somehow we think this life will make itself better. Maybe if we work long enough or make enough money. We get caught doing the same things over and over expecting this life we hardly live to get better. Life can become insane.
I imagine Jerry sitting across a table from Derek, head in his hands, listening to Derek talk about his life. Derek is incapable of living his life because he can’t remember it. Jerry realizes that Derek reached a point in which he is no longer living anymore. He’s just waiting to die.
“Let’s play a game,” Jerry will say, and pull out a revolver out from under the table.
Derek will ask “Are you insane?” And Jerry will reply “No, no, but by definition, YOU are.”
He’ll put one bullet into the revolver and he’ll tell Derek, “We avoid risks in life so we can make it safely to death. We have to take those risks and do something different to restore our lives to sanity.”
Jerry will spin the gun closed and hand it to Derek, and he’ll tell him, “Let’s get sober.”
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Facebook Friends, Crossed Fingers, and Brass Knuckles
Jerry Cassidy has 470+ friends and counting on Facebook, which means he already has more friends than I do in just a few short weeks. I don’t know whether to be excited or depressed because of this. The question is getting asked, but for now I’ve just been deflecting. I want this viral campaign to grow organically, I want people to discover the answer for themselves before I start the spoon-feeding, and I don’t need it burning out before I get started.
I just submitted Jokers Wild into a short story competition. I’m proud of this piece. It manages, in my own biased opinion, to pack a solid punch, get a little dirty, and showcase my own brand of writing and style, all in a matter of eleven hundred words. I’m hoping to someday find a publication that will put this sucker in print, but maybe I’ll get lucky and make some money while I’m at it right now from this contest. Fingers crossed.
I’m also working on a solid pitch to add to the “About” section to hook all you potential readers and agents out there. This is not a simple story. And it’s not about vampires or werewolves. So I’m trying to melt this badass down into a couple brass sentences that can wrap around a white-knuckled sandwich and knock your teeth out. Literally speaking, of course.
I just submitted Jokers Wild into a short story competition. I’m proud of this piece. It manages, in my own biased opinion, to pack a solid punch, get a little dirty, and showcase my own brand of writing and style, all in a matter of eleven hundred words. I’m hoping to someday find a publication that will put this sucker in print, but maybe I’ll get lucky and make some money while I’m at it right now from this contest. Fingers crossed.
I’m also working on a solid pitch to add to the “About” section to hook all you potential readers and agents out there. This is not a simple story. And it’s not about vampires or werewolves. So I’m trying to melt this badass down into a couple brass sentences that can wrap around a white-knuckled sandwich and knock your teeth out. Literally speaking, of course.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Who is Jerry Cassidy?
In the next few weeks, with just one chapter in the bag and a road map for the rest still under construction, I am planning to launch a small viral campaign revolving around one of the primary questions my novel will raise: Who is Jerry Cassidy?
Nothing flashy. I intend to open a Facebook account in Jerry’s name to showcase his background, create character depth, spark interest, and get people asking the question. Get some fun stuff on there too. Favorite books/authors? Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, The Contortionist’s Handbook by Craig Clevenger, and The Patriot by Derek Fincher…
Maybe a Twitter account too, eventually. I need to find Jerry’s voice, and I think status updates and some twats should help me discover it. Probably a baritone.
Nothing flashy. I intend to open a Facebook account in Jerry’s name to showcase his background, create character depth, spark interest, and get people asking the question. Get some fun stuff on there too. Favorite books/authors? Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, The Contortionist’s Handbook by Craig Clevenger, and The Patriot by Derek Fincher…
Maybe a Twitter account too, eventually. I need to find Jerry’s voice, and I think status updates and some twats should help me discover it. Probably a baritone.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)