Last night was I think, depressing for indigo and I. We both seemed to be uninspired by our own writing. I knew that I needed to dedicate some time to thinking about where my story was headed. As with last year's rookie effort, my novel has turned into a farcical juxtaposition of serious themes combined with ridiculous stupidity. This year, I have really outdone myself I think, in terms of writing myself into an impossible corner, with two plotlines to follow- one serious, one madcap. I am really going to have to flex my literary muscles to write myself out of this one. Last night, I felt for the first time that perhaps I was not up to the task.
This morning I went for a long walk, listening to the soundtrack of my sophomore effort, and although I did not solve the significant dilemma of having too much plot, I have at least thought through a way of bringing them together. As I listened to more music from my soundtrack on my way into work, I found myself hopeful again. Perhaps I can do this, although I must admit, that part of my oath to myself was that if I want to, I can bury this novel in the backyard by the light of the moon, not letting anyone ever read it. Ever. I want to include a long excerpt today, not because I think it is particularly good or interesting, but because I wrote it for the purposes of amusing my fellow NaNoWriMo sufferers (as well as myself). Because for good or for ill, we are all in this together, and lord knows, we have to amuse ourselves if we are going to make it to June 30th. Because no one, no one, is going to do it for us.
"Will had been in the midst of handling the fallout from the barf-o-rama when he heard the distinct and rather unmistakeable dulcet tones of the song “Girlfriend”, by N*Sync. Will realized, with a sinking heart, that it was the version featuring Nelly. He prayed to the funeral gods that the mourners at Mrs. Jaworsky’s service would not notice. God knew what that would lead to. Maybe it was the sudden change in tone, maybe it was the unstoppable catchiness of the song, or maybe it was the heart-breakingly pure soprano of Justin Timberlake’s voice, but the mourners noticed almost immediately. But instead of a fresh round of disgorgement, it seemed to calm the crowd, to distract them from both the pain of their grief, and the nausea in their stomachs. They were swaying softly, and then Will heard one of the mourners ask “is that Nelly?”
It was a blow to tradition, it was a complete alteration of the way things were done. It went against everything that Will had learned in school about the successful management of mood in a funeral setting, and as every funeral director worth his salt knows, mood management is absolutely key. Without it, you have nothing. Will was starting to feel as though he were completely losing control of everything going on in the entire 12,000 sq. Ft. Structure. It was his worst nightmare come to life. Well, at least his second worst nightmare. His worst nightmare was about an impossibly unlikely strip club with a haunted mansion motif. In his dream, it was ‘Ladies Night’, with an all-male review. He was for some inexplicable reason dressed as Frankenstein, forced to dance a haunting combination of the Charleston and the Robotic Shimmy. He always woke up screaming.
Well, Will had learned a thing or two in his tenure as owner and funeral director at Hawthorne and Sons. And while Will might be incapable of successfully combining the Charleston and the Robotic Shimmy, there was one thing he could control, and that was the music. Everything else would fall into place if he could get that back on track. He could not allow the madness to continue. It had to be stopped immediately. He rose and left the room discreetly, heading toward the inner sanctum, where all of the controls were... lights, music, screens, hidden passageways, it was all there.
Girfriend had turned into ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ by Bon Jovi, quite possibly the most inappropriate song imaginable for a funeral home, and Will had still not managed to switch the music back to the ‘Funeral Mix ’98 (a classic, and one of Will’s favourites). It was an unmitigated disaster, he could not trace where the music was coming from. Seth, that devil, had somehow disconnected their sound system from the source on site, and was piping in music from somewhere off site... but where? As the answer to that question occurs to him, he sits down, battling a grin. You had to hand it to the kid, he was resourceful, and Will took a moment to appreciate the brilliance of Seth’s musical coup d’état. As Jon Bon Jovi ponders the number of faces that he’s seen, and ultimately concludes that he has rocked them all, Will picks up the phone, and dials. It has to be Jackie’s Place, the pub next door. They always have the best music."
It took me almost 27,000 words, but I finally, finally managed to incorporate Jackie's Place.
Ahh Jackie's place forever a place of good times and memories for a writer who is lost. Fear not Jill, I have faith, writers have a way of writing themselves out of corners.
ReplyDeleteJill read me the little *Nsync part last night, and I commented about how all of our novels have characters who are extremely knowledgeable about pop culture. At a glance, they can discern the Emilio era of a bedazzled Emilio face. They can tell within seconds which version of Girlfriend is being played (just plain, or Nelly-fied). They are truly awe-inspiring characters.
ReplyDeleteCan't wait to read more about Jackie's Place.