'Tis the Season...

Hello, I normally send an annual newsletter to friends with an original lit creation aperitif. Here's a couple from the past fave file.  See you in 2012!

AFTERGLOW

'Twas the day after Christmas

and all through the shack

not one thing was stirring,

except one old cheese snack.

Tupperware was stacked and sealed with a burp

to preserve a LARGE turkey that'd chirped

its last chirp.

The children were asleep and snug in their beds

surrounded by gift debris up to their heads.

I in my boxers and Ma in her sweats

were dazed in the living room, tallying debts.

Then what to my wondering eyes should appear

but an unlabeled gift and an imported beer!

We flipped for the ale, though it was quite warm

and guessed at the treasure just by its form.

A Blackberry!  An X-box!  Buns of Steel!    eew.

Obviously, a wife with too little to do.

Our brains were numb, 'alone time' grew short

so we shared the unveiling--like a good sport.

Underneath the satin, the foil and the glitter

was a gift so unique it made us both titter.

It didn't have bells or keypads or a whistle,

it couldn't fetch or fly like the down of a thistle.

In the box was a card, silver ink on dark blue,

that said in four words something so true.

Our family had shared so much, you recall,

the card said,

"THANKS FOR DOING BUSINESS.

Signed, The Mall."

The Spirit is Willing...

        (We open on a hallowed cubicle.)

WRITER
Bless me, Father-figure, for I have sinned.

EDITOR
All are welcome here, my symbolic offspring.

WRITER
It has been 31 days since my last confession.

EDITOR
What troubles you?

WRITER
Lust!

EDITOR
Oh.

WRITER
And the fact I don’t act on it!

EDITOR
You don’t…?

WRITER
Father-figure, I desire to write, lust for the physical act but I can NOT consummate!

EDITOR
Dear me.  My symbolic offspring, John Trimble Book One, Verse One says: “Pick a subject that means something to you, emotionally as well as intellectually.”*

WRITER
I’m familiar with that, Father-figure.  The problem is I have three script ideas begging for me.

EDITOR
Playing the field, you dog…

WRITER
Not that way.

EDITOR
Sorry.  You have a fear of commitment then?

WRITER
Well…

EDITOR
My symbolic offspring, Epictetus believed, ‘If you would be a reader, read; if a writer, write.’

WRITER
A lil simplistic for my taste.

EDITOR
What’s that?

WRITER
Um, I have a full-time job, commitments at home, and I can never find the time to write.

EDITOR
You’re in Denial.

WRITER
I am not!

EDITOR
Every minute of every day is not spoken for.  If you deny all of them because this one minute is taken, you do yourself and your script a disservice.

WRITER
But even five minutes a day…

EDITOR
Denial!

WRITER
Fifteen is all—

EDITOR
DEEE-NIGH-ALL!

WRITER
All right, thirty minutes right after dinner and dishes!

EDITOR
Deeee…

WRITER
Five days a week!

EDITOR
…lightful!  (A long pause) Something else, my symbolic offspring?

WRITER
I always do the first line well, but I have trouble doing the others.

EDITOR
Moliere?

WRITER
Yes, bless you.

EDITOR
No prob.

WRITER
I start a premise and think, ‘Sara Ruhl uses whimsy, so can I!’ Or I think, ‘Arthur Miller is direct and real, so I can’t do that.’

EDITOR
Fear.

WRITER
Well…

EDITOR
Doubt?

WRITER
No, I believe you.

EDITOR
My symbolic offspring, if you feel strongly about your subject and you have faith in your abilities, then put the damn draft on paper!  Ninety percent of writing is rewriting.  First tries are not first publications, they’re tries.

WRITER
Father-figure?

EDITOR
Yes?

WRITER
One last question.  One of my script ideas was inspired by Stanislavski—“The purpose of theater is to bring to light the life of the human soul.”

EDITOR
A noble goal.

WRITER
Shit, yeah.

EDITOR
Do you doubt because the goal is so vaunted?

WRITER
No, I don’t know which soul he’s referring to—mine, my characters, or the audience.

EDITOR
You do know.  It is all three, in that order.  (He hums & then breaks into song) This little light of mine…

WRITER (joins him)
I’m gonna let it shine.

EDITOR
I’m not gonna make it shine…

WRITER & EDITOR
I’m gonna let it shine!  Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!...

                (They continue as they leave the confessional and nave of Strunk & White Chapel)

*This statement is actually from the Trimble book “Writing with Style.”