Adventures in literature

Act IV: Research

Found on the sixth floor of the PCL, the Arabic (?) version of Woolf's Three Guineas:



Buried in one of Woolf's less famous essays, a description of my writing process:

After a hard day's work, trudging round, seeing all he can, feeling all he can, taking in the book of his mind innumberable notes, the writer becomes — if he can — unconscious. In fact, his under-mind works at top speed while his upper-mind drowses. Then, after a pause the veil lifts; and there is the thing — the thing he wants to write about — simplified, composed.

A shame — Orwell: "writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness" — and only then to come out of it disfigured:



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Act V: Thus ends the play within the play

The Setting: The editorial office of a well renowned college daily. BOB is working at the computer, while MATTY slouches into a couch that is against back wall of the office. Matty picks up a newspaper from a pile next to him on the couch and begins to flip through, every so often throwing out bits of information he finds incredulous, funny, or worth writing about. Bob responds with mostly grunts and half-hearted chuckles, never looking away from the monitor as he clicks, drags, and types.

Matty (Tall, dark, and handsome, he exudes — in addition to the intimidating physical presence of a potential all-state point guard who gave up dreams of the NBA at age 15 because his coach was an asshole — the confidence and decadence one would expect from a brilliant sexual libertine):Hey, Bob, what are you doing this summer? You gonna be around Austin?

Bob (Small of stature but great of wit and character, he directs plays in his spare time — but refused to major in theatre because he "can't stand those people"):Nah, I'm doing Shakespeare at Winedale.

M: Oh, kick ass. It seems like a lot of fun. One of my ex-girlfriends was in it a ... a couple years ago, I guess.

B: Really? What was her name?

M: C— — oh, that's right, you know her.

(Talking at the same time)
M: You guys went to the same high school together or something.
B: Yeah, we went to the same high school.

M: Which school was that again? Carroll?

B: Yeah.

M: That's the one right down the street, like, a couple blocks from my grandmother's house. Crazy.

B: How long did you and C— go out?

M: About two years ago, we were in Trimble's class together.

B: No, but how long did you go out?

M: Oh, oh, uh, well, from the middle of the semester or so until the end, so like three or four months off and on. It was kind of fucked up.

(Neither of them has moved since they started talking, although both are sitting a little more uncomfortably. The noise of a newsroom, phones ringing and keyboards clacking, drifts into the office.)

M: So have you talked to her recently at all?

B (Chuckles and spins in his chair)): That's a funny story ... she dated my roommate for a while. He was at Winedale with her, and after she broke up this other guy from Winedale, J—, she started dating my roommate. He actually got her pregnant, and they decided to keep the baby. Then she broke up with him and got back together with J—, and now she's getting married to him.

M: Married. No shit? I knew it wasn't too far off for her. I was the guy right before&J#151; ... right after she broke up with me, she got with J— almost immediately. (Shakes his head and sighs, disapprovingly)

B (Turning back around): I mean, she's a real nice girl, real smart.

M: Yeah, but she's also manipulative as shit.

B (Laughing uproariously and clapping his hands together): I think my roommate would agree.

(Scene fades)

What a perfect Shakespearian ending to this ridiculous comedy.