Boring Crap About Writing

     There's a story I'm working on and I'm realizing that in order to tell it, I need to come up with a set of rules that govern how the 'universe' it's set in works and how the pieces of the narrative fit together under those self- imposed guidelines. It's an element or dimension to writing I don't think I've consciously considered before, on top of or along side of the usual basics- plot, characters, setting, theme, etc- and it makes the thing all the more more challenging editorially (I love this scene, this bit of dialogue, this character, but I can't use it/ them because they don't fit, much as I'd like it/ them to, and I can't bend the rules for it/ them because the whole thing would fall apart) while simultaneously adding a fairly rigid framework to build on that once it's put in place should make the telling easier while still constituting a challenge. This is what I love about writing, whether it's a short piece of humorous fiction, a 'journal entry', or a gag achieved through dialog, it's a puzzle I design for myself and if- and- when I solve it, it's one of the most satisfying things ever, even if the listener/ reader is oblivious to the process.

Dinner and Taxes

Snippet from a recent phone conversation:

Her (being a chick I dig): So, I know we had plans for me to come over tonight and have dinner and hang out. Can I ask another favor?

Me: (being me and thinking, well, duh, of course I'll take a shower first) Pssh, yeah, of course.

Her: Well... I was just sort of thinking...I don't have an internet connection, and you do, and I haven't finished my taxes yet...

Me: Wait. You're going to come over, I'm going to make you dinner, and you're going to... do your taxes.

Her: Well... yeah. If that's not too weird.

Me: Weird? No, that's not weird. That's not weird at all. Kind of reminds me of high school, actually.

Her: You helped your friends with their taxes in high school?

Me: Well, no. I was more a word guy. Not a math guy. I was pretty bad at math. Still am, it turns out.

Her: So...

Me: So in high school, I was sort of the Cyrano de Bergerac guy.

Her: You ghost wrote love notes for the jock who wanted to get with the cheerleader?

Me: Well, no, not exactly. I ghost wrote love notes for the cheerleader I had a crush on who wanted to get with the jock she had a crush on. It was all very John Hughes. I had a very John Hughes high school experience. Always the Michael Anthony Hall, never the Molly Ringwald. I guess that was the point of John Hughes. And high school, because I sure as shit have yet to use algebra in a real world situation.

Her: So...

Me: So, I guess I don't have to take a shower.

Her: What?

Me: Nothing. I'll see you in a bit.