The Carousel: PhantomCon's Panel Transcript (part two)

Please refer to part one for the explanation. I mean seriously, you think I'm going to give up my precious free time copying and pasting it here? Boy you sure don't know me very well. In fact, you should probably go back and read the collection of 'About Me' posts from March just to get an idea of how unmotivated I really am. Yeah, copying that paragraph here would have eaten up about half a minute. I'm sure glad I didn't squander thirty seconds doing that. Yeesh. What would I have been thinking?

 

Math: Here’s a good one. How similar are you to your character? I suppose that means our main story context character.

Caris: We are our characters.

(laughter)

Zel: How similar are you to a fictitious audience?

(continued laughter)

Caris: Outside of the main story I’m a little more down to earth. Just as silly, but for the stories we kind of ramp up the energy.

Zel: I smile more. Much more of a showoff.

Math: I think I’m actually a stronger character out of context than in.

Caris: Fictional characters have a pretty solid internal consistency.

Math: Like if we were to bring out James Bond and have him sit here and answer the question by saying ‘What character’? Now, without us establishing which actor our James Bond looks like or even if he’s Ian Fleming’s Bond, you’ll instantly have a pretty central James Bond voice in your head saying those words, with the accent and the suaveness and the winking in-the-know demeanor.

Zel: Likewise, if we were to say that the Mad Hatter comes out and answers the question with the same words, you might hear anyone from Ed Wynn to Sebastian Stan in your head but it would always feel like a sheer lack of comprehension of what you’re asking.

Caris: It’s like in Duck Amuck, where Daffy is always Daffy even if you change his shape, take away his voice or erase him completely, there’s some character that still exists. There used to be a waterpark in Houston called Water World and there was a fiberglass statue of Daffy sitting in one of the lifeguard chairs. And of course it didn’t do anything except exist. And yet it was still as much ‘Daffy’ as any Friz Freleng cartoon.

Math: There’s something kind of magical about that.

Caris: And we get to be a part of it even if it’s in a miniscule scale.

Math: That leads us to our next question. Who would you like to see play you in a movie?

Caris: Ooh, I have no idea. Let me think.

Math: In my case it probably doesn’t matter so much. I’d kind of like it to be an unknown.

Zel: Yeah, I’m a little too vain to believe anyone real could play me without hitting a nerve with me. I’d much rather see us animated.

Math: I think someone with kind of a Harry Anderson voice would work for me.

Caris: What about Harry Anderson?

Math: Yeah, I think he could pull it off.

Zel: If we were going to do motion capture, probably someone like Shakira. Or maybe Zuleikha Robinson. Voice actress-wise I’d kind of hope for Grey DeLisle.

Caris: I would love it if Laura Bailey did my voice!

Zel: Who would you want them to model you after?

Caris: Whatever models J. Scott Campbell works with.

Zel: Math, I’ve just realized I have no idea what the hell you look like.

Math: That makes two of us.

Caris: Three if we’re counting. Why don’t we decide that right now?

Math: Well I’m supposed to be kind of an ambiguously sciencey type. I’ve always imagined I was a brunette.

Zel: Do you wear glasses?

Math: Not really. Maybe reading glasses, but not regularly.

Caris: So are you kind of like an American Martin Freeman?

Math: Yeah. Maybe not so round in the face but that’s a pretty good template.

Zel: How are we doing on length?

Math: We’re almost at twenty-seven hundred. Wait. And there. We should probably start to wind down a bit. Anybody have anything else burning to ask? (listening) That’s a good one. Caris, do you think you’re too sexual?

Caris: No. Not at all. As a character I’m just me. And if that takes me into sexual territory then that’s who I am. Now if we’re talking about a real life woman who behaves like me then we’re into a whole different territory. I mean, let’s face it. I get away with a lot of stuff that wouldn’t happen in reality.

Zel: What do you think about real life strippers?

Caris: I’m fine with it. It’s entertainment. It’s expression. I know there’s a lot of debate religiously about whether or not women removing their tops is considered counter-spiritual. And of course being a debate of opinion I don’t have the definitive answer. But I think there are much less holy things humanity does than get undressed.

Math: Being a Christian character, how do you balance being a stripper with maintaining faith?

Caris: Well, I have a  line that comes up once in a while about God looking down at his silly little Caris, and I think it’s kind of how God looks at all of humanity; as this silly little species that adorably thinks it’s so close to figuring everything out, and I think that gives God a loving chuckle.

Zel: If it didn’t humanity would be in a lot of trouble.

Math: It’s always struck me as funny how there are so many horrible things in the world, there’s bullying, abuse, torture, and yet a person’s religiousness is called into question once they flash at Mardi Gras.

Caris: Yeah, I wouldn’t encourage people to disrobe per se any more than I’d say people should drink, but if it fulfills something for you and you can accept the responsibility for yourself I don’t see the harm.

Zel: And while there are sex addicts out there, the dancers aren’t responsible for them just like a casino isn’t responsible for people with gambling addictions.

Caris: My character has slept around some and I certainly don’t think that aspect is heroic by any stretch, but nobody makes it into adulthood without some kind of blemish.

Zel: Do you think people in real life should stop being casual with sex?

Caris: I think before people do anything they should ask themselves why they’re doing it. And if they don’t have a good answer then maybe they shouldn’t be doing it.

Math: That’s not exactly what your character is about though.

Caris: Nope. Not at all. I just do things. But if I didn’t get into trouble we wouldn’t have much of a story.

Zel: Besides, in fiction you want to live vicariously through over the top characters. It’s a safe outlet.

Caris: You notice nobody ever holds Cookie Monster accountable for other people’s property damage?

Zel: I’ve always been fascinated by which female characters are considered over-sexualized and which ones aren’t. Like when Tomb Raider first hit the market Lara Croft became the beacon for hatred just because she had big boobs. And the loudest voices were writing to Eidos, or writing as if Eidos was going to stumble across their postings on their news groups, saying that they need to tone down the boobs. And for a while that was all the game discussion was about, and how over-sexualized Lara was.

Math: And then Lara was featured in Playboy and there was this explosion of outrage like Frankenstein’s monster had stormed through the town.

Zel: Yeah, I never really figured out what that was all about. I think part of it was a resurgence in the 90’s of the voice of feminism. And let me go on record and say that I think feminism is a truly wonderful and important ideal, and even if a percentage of the population disagrees with it I think a lot of obstacles would become surmountable if everyone would at least take the core of it seriously and give it a listen. But that being said, like any ideal it’s in the hands of…you know…people. And people get easily distracted by cosmetic details that support whatever claims they’re making than to look at the real issue.

Math: Like it’s more important to prove “See, I’m right,” than to figure out “What do we do about it?”

Zel: …

Math: …

Caris: (giggling) I’m sorry. I was staring at your boobs.

(laughter)

Zel: Just say that you agree with whatever I was talking about.

Math: You know, if these things were as powerful as we act like they are we wouldn’t be living in a patriarch.

(more laughter)

Zel: I love how we’re actually typing in the imaginary audience’s responses.

Caris: So why is it female audiences seem to embrace characters like Betty Boop or women like Marylin Monroe or even Morrigan Aensland but then turn around and take exception to Ivy Valentine?

Zel: That’s a great question that probably doesn’t have an answer.

Math: I was surprised that Jessica Rabbit made it into the club without a debate considering how the character was create to represent ‘over-sexualization’.

Zel: Yeah, I guess you can’t really predict how an audience is going to take to a character. All you can do is keep them true to their roots and let history play out as it will.

Caris: So to get back to my original answer. No, I don’t think I’m too sexual. I’m just me.

Math: Showgirl Barbie.

Caris: (purring) Rowr!

(applause)

Math: Why don’t we take two more questions? (listens) What kind of music do you associate with?

Zel: I like heavy guitar songs, usually in a minor key with a real emotional base to it. You know, Second Chance by Shinedown is a good Zel song. Also anything Jim Steinman was involved in. Lotus in general had a close affiliation with Roxette and Pat Benatar. And I think most of my generation was trained in guitar and piano.

Math: I think anything electronic sounding fits me. The Rockit by Herbie Hancock is probably something on my laptop when I’m programming. A lot of synthesizers and remixes since I’m kind of at the keyboards anyway.

Caris: I’m total percussion. It doesn’t matter if it’s pop, if it’s rap, if it’s jazz, as long as it has that drumbeat I’m in. I’ve actually had hymns that play in my head with the addition of a drum solo.

Zel: You know, we ought to give up this fiction thing and start a band.

 (laughter)

Math: You know I have a quick question before we close it down. Zel, what’s your brother’s name?

Zel: (giggling) Okay, I happen to love the in-story explanation for why I never refer to him by name, but the meta version is that his name is so close to a copyright infringement that we’re just not willing to go there and risk it. I mean like if his name was Luke Skywallender. That close to a potential lawsuit. And since it’s not a parody we don’t really have that loophole.

Caris: Do you ever think about changing his name?

Zel: No. And it’s probably pure stubbornness, but even in fictional characters names are defining and he’s been around longer than I have, so it’s kind of in metaphorical stone.

Math: So what would it take for you to reveal it?

Zel: Probably something in writing from Anne McCaffrey’s estate saying “Look, we don’t care about your little book. You can say the name and we won’t take you to court.”

Caris: Did you actually take a character from her?

Zel: No, just a name. Our writer heard two classmates discussing a character’s name spelling from the Pern series, and he liked the name and accidentally added a letter in, and wound up using it for my brother’s character years later, never thinking that this would eventually launch into a writing project where ownership would be an issue. Incidentally on Lotus we had everyone from Ian Malcolm to Maleficent make an appearance. I’m one of the lucky ones because ‘Zelphina’ is an actual name in reality, albeit a pretty rare one.

Caris: ‘Caris’ is from the Bible, although I think it has an ‘H’ in it, and I was told it was Greek for ‘love’.

Math: ‘Math’ is from a textbook.

Zel: It means C minus.

Math: Okay, why don’t we take one more question? Let’s have a good one. (listening) That’s a pretty good one. What will we never see your character do?

Caris: Sex. You’re never going to see an actual sex scene from anyone involved in our saga. If anything like that were to happen plot-wise it would be handled like you witnessing the seduction and then the door to the bedroom or wherever slowly closes and you have to imagine what happens on the other side. And I think it’s a combination of none of us really find reading the details of sex all that interesting, and any story advancement or character development that you can get from a sex scene you can just as easily get elsewhere and probably more poetically. And the sex scenes that you can find in romance novels certainly have an audience and they enjoy that kind of ‘erotic candy’ there’s really nothing more to it than that. We prefer to save our candy for our adolescent witticisms and collateral damage. And of course the language is always going to be PG rated.

Math: You’re never going to see me in a fistfight, probably because it’s unrealistic to believe that I’d survive it. In a way I think I represent ‘reality’ in our world. If Caris is in a car explosion, she’s going to happen to land on her feet a few blocks away with no hearing damage and maybe a little dust on her knees. Zel can be thrown through a brick wall and still emerge disoriented, irritated, and scraped up for about two seconds before she’s instantly unblemished again. If I have a door slammed in my face, I’ll have a broken nose which will stay broken until it’s written that enough time has passed for it to heal.

Zel: If we establish that there’s a single haystack in Europe and we push Caris out of a plane, she’ll land on it.

Math: Bloody favoritism.

(laughter)

Zel: Well, you should have thought of that before you became NOT a cute leggy bisexual blonde.

Caris: It also helps that I’m usually the narrator.

Zel: I don’t know. We deal with ghosts quite a bit.

Math: “It all started the morning I died horribly…”

(laughter)

Zel: Okay, I’ve been trying to think. What are we never going to see from me? I think we’re probably never going to see my actual final terminal death. Kind of like comic book characters that die for a while and then get brought back, or they just stop being written but they’re never technically killed. I mean, yeah there’s the axiom that nobody ever dies in science fiction. Even Aerith Gainsborough has had a post-death career even though it’s canon that she’s dead and not coming back. So I think that’s my fate as a fictional character, to continue living as long as the stories do and only fade away like, I don’t know, Barnaby Rudge?

Math: Yeah! That guy!

Caris: Poor Barney, he’s so overdue for the Disney adaptation.

Zel: So that’s it then.

Math: Thank you all for coming out and caring!

Caris: And for giving us the attention we all so desperately crave!

Zel: Hopefully we’ll see you on the other side of the pages again.

Caris: Kisses!

Math: And as always, feel free to join us any time in the world of metaphor.

Zel: Thank you all very much for bringing us to life.

Math: Until the next story.

Caris: Bye!

Zel: Take care!

(applause that fades)

The Carousel: PhantomCon's Panel Transcript (part one)

This was just a silly thing I did when the inspiration hit me. I made up a convention where my characters went as guests to participate in a panel discussion for a fictional fan base. I've always enjoyed the concept of fictional characters being self-aware of their roles in stories, and how they might have opinions about the way they are portrayed.

Math: Okay everyone, welcome to our first official Carousel panel. I’m Brandon Mathias. Better known as Math. Reluctantly. (laugh) We’re all really excited that the project has been inching forward and we’d like to thank all of our muses and supporters who have been driving us to keep at it over these past, I guess six? Seven years now? A lot longer for Zel. (laugh) I was going to give some back story, but…who cares right? Let’s bring out the girls. To my right, your hostess and narrator Caris Roberts! (applause) And to my left your protagonist extraordinaire Zelphina Blade! (more applause).

Zel: Thank you.

Caris: Thank you all so much!

(delightful snickering)

Zel: What is it?

Caris: You’re smiling sweetie.

Zel: I always smile. (laughter)

Math: Have you read the book? (laughter)

Zel: I don’t HAVE to read the book. Have you read it?

Math: No, I think it would just depress me. In fact I don’t know if I should be in the center.

Caris: I think the PR people prefer it.

Zel: Or maybe they don’t. (laughter)

Caris: Okay, thank you guys again for inviting us to PhantomCon. I don’t know how many fictional characters ever get to have imaginary panel discussions. Should I thank our writer for setting this up?

Zel: Probably not.

Math: No.

(laughter)

Zel: Writers don’t do well with compliments.

Caris: Well on behalf of the cast- (blows a kiss. More applause from the imaginary audience whose hands are getting a little tired). Okay, so what do you guys want to know?

Math: (listening) She says “What is the life of a fictional character like?”

Zel: Sorry we couldn’t get a mic out there, but this is just being transcribed.

Caris: That’s a really good question. Do either of you want to take that one?

(Zel nods to Math)

Math: Well, it kind of sucks. (laughter) For me anyway. I mean I’m kind of the token ‘guy’ character in the story, if that’s an archetype. I’m kind of on call for whenever I’m needed for a draft and then usually trimmed out. So, I mean it’s not a bad life. I have the privilege of a consistent name.

Zel: And a nickname.

Math: I think Caris was the one who suggested the name ‘Math’ and the fact that it stuck is probably why I have a role at all. I am sitting between two of the most beautiful sexiest women and they’re both off limits!

(laughter and applause)

Math: Thank you for enjoying my torment.

(laughter)

Caris: Well I think the lack of definition makes you more relatable.

Math: Some decent lines might not hurt.

Zel: If it helps, I’ve known our writer a lot longer. His male characters are defined by what they do.

Caris: Kind of like real men.

Math: Okay, we’ve got some hands up. Do either of you want to take the question on the table?

Zel: What was the question?

Math: What is the life of a fictional character like?

Zel: Well don’t you guys know? (laughter) My life as a fictional character. I consider myself one of the lucky ones. My writer makes me miserable. Literally. In the plots I’m always miserable.

Caris: Sometimes you upgrade to withdrawn.

Zel: I’m smiling on the inside. (light applause)

Math: They liked my misery more.

Zel: Misery’s interesting. I like to think I’m an interesting character and it’s wonderful to be so active and to have those ‘how would Zel react to this’ questions. Half the time I don’t know when I’m being written or just danced with but it’s been such an incredible journey so far.

Caris: My writer’s wife created me, so I’ve gotten to cross from one mind to another, and the most giddy feeling I ever get is when she says “I love what you’re doing with Caris”. There are lots and lots of fictional characters and probably the majority of them never even get written down. I’m very blessed that I get to feel alive. I don’t know how many fictional characters actually feel that way.

Zel: Probably Bugs Bunny.

(laughter)

Math: Okay go ahead. (Math listens) Are you two really in a relationship?

Zel: Of course. I pity anyone who comes between us.

(Math surrenders his hands to much laughter)

Caris: We are. It’s the heart of the story. Our writer and his wife have a very loving marriage and quite a bit of those elements translate into the relationship. And while we never set out to have any kind of political agenda, I think there’s a lot of room in fiction for healthy same-sex relationships and probably a need to offer them. Again, we didn’t plan it that way. It’s just kind of a nice development.

Math: I was actually supposed to be the love interest.

(laughter)

Caris: He was! I remember that! But I think we all knew that it was never going to work out in the long run. That’s another type of relationship that gets neglected in fiction. The male-female friendship where both participants are happy with it that way.

Math: How did we ever change that?

Caris: I think it was…

Math: This one. (pointing accusingly at Zel)

Zel: I think our writer realized I was due for a win. (laughter) I think I’ve died twice now? Maybe three times? And somehow it’s always been related to unrequited love.

Caris: Zel was a dreadfully wounded character who existed- do we say existed? We’re not really living. But we’re active.

Zel: Existed.

Caris: Zel existed for like fourteen years before either of us, and that was before our writer found the peace that only comes from meeting the right person, so I think Zel’s woundedness was just begging to be fixed.

Zel: Not all the way of course.

(laughter)

Caris: So, yeah. On page and off. We’re proudly in a relationship.

Math: We have a question from the back. Why don’t you swear?

Zel: That one’s yours honey.

(laughter)

Caris: You know how you walk into a store sometimes with enough money for one dress and you’re expecting that you’re going to spend hours indulging yourself by trying stuff on and then you spot the perfect outfit as you go through the door and think, well hell, there goes my adventure. That was one of those character defining moments. It just fit. And so because I’m the narrator it means nobody swears.

Zel: In English anyway.

Math: Yeah, how many languages do you know?

Zel: However many is needed.

Caris: I believe the school of thought is that a character becomes somehow more relatable if they’re given a bit of a mouth, and I understand the logic behind it but I don’t necessarily agree with it. For one thing I don’t find vulgarity to be attractive. And being a fictional character when there’s the ability to distance from reality why not take it? Like, real people get sinus headaches on a regular basis but characters never do unless the plot justifies it. So like when questions about menstrual cycles come up I always wonder why people care about that. I wonder if the Muppets ever get questions like that.

Math: I think Bert and Ernie get nagged about sexuality a lot.

Caris: Exactly! And why? Some things just aren’t important in the context of specific characters.

Zel: I’ve gotten some inquiries about the physiology of demons and I can’t ever answer them. Obviously a story has to have an internal logic but when you have a complicated back story like I do physiology becomes irrelevant.

Math: Weren’t you and Anomaly sisters at one point?

Zel: Briefly yes, and not like a ‘we tried out a plot point and it didn’t work’ thing but it’s an actual footnote in our characters’ history. I don’t think it ever has to be addressed because it’s not important, but there it is.

Math: What can you tell us about Lotus?

Zel: Oh gods, as little as possible. Lotus sprung from a second edition Dungeons and Dragons campaign which eventually phased out the rules and just became interactive story telling. I don’t think I even had a character sheet.

Caris: I actually started on Lotus too.

Zel: You did, didn’t you? You actually had a character sheet. It was the last game ever played on Lotus. But for all purposes, Caris of the Carousel is an earthling, so there’s an example of let’s not worry about it.

Caris: I had a character sheet and everything. I have no idea where it is now, but it’s so wonderful to have made the jump into fiction from there. It’s like a lucky break.

Zel: Weren’t you a…

Math: A half-mage?

(the panel laughs)

Caris: I was! My player/creator had never played the game before and it really is a lot to absorb on your first go, and I think she got the definitions of races and classes crossed so I became known as like a half-elf half-mage or something.

Math: How long did you play?

Caris: Not long. Maybe six or seven sessions. That’s actually where Ericka came from as well. She was supposed to betray the party but then my character and her character got attached and that kind of changed the dynamic.

Math: I got a smidge of role playing time but no character sheet. I think I started out in nanowrimo. If I’d been on Lotus I would have been an NPC.

Zel: I don’t know. I think we could have developed you more in a sci-fi setting. We had a lot of characters who never even started out with names who kind of grew on us, as opposed to the ones we flat out stole from Naoko Takeuchi.

Math: If you’d had a character sheet what would it have looked like?

Zel: Dexterity through the roof. Lotus was basically a power gamer campaign so we all had demigod stats. Probably above average intelligence and wisdom, which would actually have put me at the bottom of my class. I was a fantasy princess so I’d have had a charisma bonus. A regenerative constitution. Strength I have no idea. I was built for speed not force.

Math: What race and class?

Zel: Oh boy, let me think. I was kind of that bard-ish mage/rogue overlay, but then I had the combat skills and I was really close to the deities. So if there was an ultra-multiclass that was just greedy for abilities that would have been me. Race-wise we usually just went with a general tiefling and called it a night, but I’ve probably got more dragon in me than anything else.

Caris: So that makes you the princess and the dragon.

Zel: With the double heaping of arrogance.

(laughter)

Math: Okay, this sounds like a fun one. If you guys went to Gotham City.

Zel: Like how much trouble would we get in? Or who would we get along with?

Math: I guess it’s a ‘how would you do in a Batman storyline’?

Caris: I’d get kidnapped.

Math: I’d either be killed or psychologically and physically scarred.

Caris: I think you’d actually make a really good villain.

Math: Really?

Caris: Yeah. You could be the Math Magician! Like, your brain translates everything you see into its mathematical formula so you always know where to stand or what to do to never be hurt. It’s like being psychic but with a scientific explanation.

Zel: Like having a spider sense.

Math: Nice! When can we go?

(laughter)

Zel: I have no idea. I’d probably wind up killing somebody.

Math: Anyone in particular?

Zel: Actually, if it were up to me I’d go in and break the Joker’s hands off.

Math: That’s a pretty good idea. I wonder why Batman never thought of that.

Caris: Probably because DC needs the Joker up and about.

Math: If you and Batman fought, who would win?

Zel: If we were anywhere but a DC comic I would totally kick his butt. But in DC’s world Batman always has to win, otherwise the river Thames would turn to blood or something. So it would have to wind up being a draw.

Caris: How would you do against other superheroes?

Zel: Superman could take me down, no question. And probably Wonder Woman. The Flash would be a toss-up. I’m not that familiar with DC’s lineup but I think I could handle anyone else. From Marvel I’m not really worried about anyone except maybe Rogue, and even then if she absorbed my energy it might destroy her anyway.

Caris: What about Vampirella?

Zel: Why would we fight?

(laughter)

Math: Who would win in a pillow fight?

Zel: The audience.

The Carousel: After the Fall

I've been doing April's Camp Nanowrimo, and I thought I'd post a snippet of what I've been working on. Caris is still narrating, and she and Zelphina have just pulled off an unrealistic Uncharted-esc escape.

 

 

I lay on the ground numbed by the adrenaline, staring at the unbelievable height from which Zel and I had jumped and fallen. Zel turned and placed her hand on my face like she was checking for a specific type of fever. Satisfied that I would be all right, she began untying my feet.

“If we’re going to do this we have to reach the Meridian by nightfall.”

“We’re alive Zel,” I mentioned, halfway stunned that she hadn’t noticed.

“Do you think you can walk?” she asked me reaching out her hands to help me to my feet.

“I can walk,” I said, stumbling slightly over the feeling of glee I had. “I’m very good at walking.”

Zel brushed my clothes off while she spoke, and I heard most of what she was saying, although some of it was lost in the magnificence of the top of the burning tower and our miraculous plummet. It must have been a few thousand feet.

“Are you sure you’re okay,” she asked me with a sweet concern on her unblemished face.

I absentmindedly bit my lower lip. “Mm-hmm.”

“I think we need to get some juice in you.”

Juice? Yes, of course. That was at the top of my list of what I wanted right then.

“Zel, did I say ‘thank you’ for rescuing me?”

“There’s no need,” she assured me, and turned to look for a tree with melons, stopping only because I had hooked my index finger into her shirt collar.

I pulled her back to face me and took a moment to adore those beautiful green eyes. Ordinarily I would have made a wisecrack, but fortunately none came to me to ruin the moment with her.

With my Zel.

One very special moment that I would never forget.

How do you capture a first kiss in words?

It’s the ocean tide licking your ankles with its cool foam, sweeping back and forth, pushing you back just so it can pull you closer; teasing you; soothing you; dancing with you; the surface rising until it engulfs your knees, your thighs, your hips; delicately recoiling before the rush; embracing you completely with a blanket of purity that you never want to leave.

It feels like a promise.

The melody of a mermaid.

Why wouldn’t a man be captivated by the sea, vast and endless with its mysteries and treasures and horrors and defiance of ever being conquered?

And why wouldn’t the soul of the sea manifest into the form of a lady, beckoning him to join her in the world below?

After all, she knows more than he, and he knows that to join her is to gamble with his life. Tales are told of men plunging into their deaths. And surely she knows the tales as well. And she still offers the invitation.

So it amounts to a simple question. Does he trust her? Does he row back to the shore to feel safe and alone, or does he leave his vessel with the confidence that the tales of death are only told by those who have chosen not to trust?

That’s a first kiss. Knowing that you’re swimming towards beautiful terrifying depths but you’ll see the journey all the way through to whatever destination it leads you.

My Zel.

It’s funny how I never figured out if I was the man or the mermaid.

Poem: The King and Me (annotated)

I think my least favorite production in high school was The King and I (my senior year). For some reason, my dissatisfaction with the experience wound up inspiring a summary of the plot in light verse. For the few references indigenous to McKinley High's 1990 production you can read the notes at the bottom.

The King and Me

Siam needs a teacher to turn scientific.

The king sends a letter which states this specific.

So Anna and Louis arrive in Siam

With trunks full of dresses and boxes of spam.

They sing and they dance 'til the right Captain Orton

Says, "Clear that away! We got Amazons boardin'"

The Kralahome enters to argue the letter

And gets the advantage since his dress looks better.

Interpreter's beat up, and Anna gets sassed.

"Crawl on home, Kralahome! I'm upperclassed!"

So Orton yells, "Ma'am, don't ya give 'em no lip!"

But Anna's bananas and sick of his ship.

 

With the Kralahome's courage restored

The right Captain swears to the Lord.

The workers grab boxes

And one of them knocks his

Ship's rail, from the bow, overboard*.

 

The King is a sexist and also a louse.

He bickers with Anna about her new house.

After an hour our Tuptim arrives

Since one of the Amazons drinks while he drives.

Lady Thiang has some thoughts of her own.

Her son (after all) is the heir to the throne.

Then the King calls his wives with demonstrative power.

They're all wearing curtain they've ripped off the shower.

They flip Anna's dress up with awe in their haste.

Compared to their bath towels it seems such a waist.

The children are nestled with come outs and go ins

To learn the new language from Miss Leonowens.

 

Their father gives kind criticism

As the schoolroom breaks into a schism.

They got laryngitis

On words like 'Antidis-

Establishmentarianism'.

 

There's news from abroad and the palace is skittish

To make an impression on visiting British.

By this scene Miss Anna's in charge of the King

And Louis, her son, hasn't done a damn thing.**

Our Tuptim is going to leave at the moon

And follow her bliss to her dear crazy Lun.

The Kralahome, still with his mind on Thiang

Announces the redcoats with "Gongfinnarang!"***

And then comes the glorious climactic scene:

Uncle Tom's Cabin by Mad Magazine,

Complete with a chorus that laughed between chants,

So much that one wife wound up peeing her pants.****

 

Our Tuptim was ready to go

Like Eliza's escape through the snow.

With the play as her cover

She ran for her lover.

They both wound up dead. What a ho.

 

We finally come to the close of this act.

The King's on his deathbed and Kralahome's hacked.

Anna decides to stay on as the teacher

Since Sire will soon join the dead Burmese screecher.

Prince Chula (the King now) is in for a trip:

He's head of Siam and he can't even dip.

And to Rodgers and Hammerstein, how did this sell?

It's a musical comedy- tragic as hell.

 

So the King's going out with a bang

And Anna's still stuck with the gang.

Princess Ying Yaowalak

Gets to dress up in black

And the Kalahome marries Thiang.

 

*This was the highlight of our opening night to everyone except the people in the orchestra pit.

**Louis was my role. He was eleven. I was seventeen. I was two inches taller than Anna.

***This was a play off an inside (and quite likely, racially insensitive) joke at McKinley that I never fully understood, but everyone at school who read my poem thought this was the funniest line. Well, you don't have to get the joke to tell it I guess.

****I have it on good authority that this happened. Melissa said so.

The Carousel: Punchline Sold Separately

Another nanowrimo snippet. I sometimes feel like I accomplish more when Caris and Zel are talking about nothing than when I'm trying to advance the plot.




It’s not to say that Zel isn’t funny. She really is, she’s just not aware of it. Case in point, we were sitting on the curb of one of the New Orleans streets when I turned to her out of nowhere and said “Hey Zel. Knock knock.”

She stared at me, I imagine trying to wrap her head around what I had just placed in front of her. I swear it hadn’t occurred to me that she’d never heard a knock knock joke before; how could it?

“Is something wrong?” she asked me after a moment of internal deba

“It’s a joke,” I told her. “Knock knock.”

“I don’t get it,” she confessed as her confused eyes stared at me in disbelief like I was an elephant in a hat.

“No that’s the set up. I’m knocking on your door.”

“Okay,” she tried to play along by twisted the invisible doorknob and pulling the invisible door inward on its invisible hinges. I stifled the giggle in my chest knowing that my punch line was not going to top the sheer delight of Zelphina.

“No, you’re not supposed to open the door.

“Why? Are you a threat?”

My voice cracked. “No sweetie. It’s kind of a ritual. You’re supposed to say ‘Who’s there’.”

“Don’t I know it’s you?”

“No, it’s not me. I’m actually playing somebody else.”

“So why do I ask who it is instead of just opening the door to find out?”

“No, you want to find out who it is before you open the door.”

“Is there a chance of it being someone unworthy of me answering the door for?”

“No, well knowing you maybe, but here’s how this works. It’s a five line interactive joke. I say ‘Knock knock’. You answer ‘Who’s there?”. My next line is something I claim to be a first name. Then your line is to repeat that name followed by ‘who?’ like you’re asking for the last name as well. And just to avoid this back alley later; if I say something really absurd like ‘University’ the assumption is that you know many many people named ‘University’ and are requesting clarification for which specific acquaintance named ‘University’ has chosen to visit you unexpectedly. And then I deliver the last line which is usually some sort of play on the word I’ve used as the first name.”

Zel’s deadpan expression was as frozen as a streaming video that needed refreshing. “This is a very complicated ritual.”

I nodded. “Yeah, we should probably cover satire after the holidays. So even though the moment has passed shall we try it again?”

“Can I just ask one more question of clarification?”

I’m sure she saw me wince, but I held my disillusioned daycare instructor Barbie smile right where it was supposed to be. “Of course.”

“Is it actually you at the door pretending to be someone else or is it really someone else?”

I sighed. You know those incredibly rare moments where Bert defeated Ernie? That was my mood as I realized whatever joke I had intended to tell had completely slipped out of my grasp, probably running and screaming. I told you Zel was funny.

The Carousel: Love and Possession

Not much to say about this one. This was my first writing session of last November's nanowrimo. Like most Caris and Zel encounters, this one has yet to develop into anything.

 

 

Becky spreads the muscles in her mouth to scream but only a soft hiss and a distant whimper seep out. I clutch her hand in mine, and her nails dig into my skin. And Zel’s palm on Becky’s sternum is doing whatever it is that Zel does when she’s feeling around someone’s soul.

And poor Walter, drained and bruised from one demonic exorcism is now having to relive it, this time through his own daughter. The minister’s faith is leaving him. I don’t need to be intuitive to recognize that.

“What’s happening to her?” he chokes as if he is trying to wake up from a nightmare. I give a Zel a chance to explain, but she’s locked in a tussle with Becky’s intruder. Walter rephrases his question with added volume and an un-pulpit-worthy appositive.

“Demonic possession is a seed,” I explain amidst winches from Becky’s grip. “When it plants itself in a human soul the vines slowly sprout over time and gradually latch hold of the host like a real vine does to its surroundings. This is why exorcism is so difficult, because you’re uprooting it and yanking it off its solid perch. But a demonic vine isn’t passive like a plant. If it’s strong enough, it’s going to seek out new fertile ground.”

Sweat drops shake from Becky’s face as her head jolts against her bedpost. I grab a handful of her bedspread and try to position it where it will cushion the blow should it happen again.

“So she’s being possessed?” Walter asks.

“She’s being attacked,” says Zel.

Walter moves slowly across the room. “Rebekah?” His voice is pleading. “Becky?”

I pull my hand away while Zel recites something to her from an ancient tome. I place my hands on Walter’s shoulders to keep him from interfering. “Reverend, I know you’re strung out. But this is the Lonesome Valley. You need your faith.”

“God’s not here.”

“Then find him!” snaps Zel.

I sigh. Bedside manner is never going to be Zel’s strong suit. I take Becky’s bible off her dresser and hold it out to Walter. “Please, she needs you.”

“I don’t even know what to pray for.”

“Then just listen.”

Walter sinks down beside the bed. Becky’s eyes are now open, and they’re staring blankly at Zel. I’ve seen that look before. It’s the look of an executioner. No feeling. No morals. No questions. Just the task of elimination. I’ve seen it too many times.

“I didn’t know you spoke Latin,” I tell Zel.

“It wasn’t Latin.”

“What are we going to do?”

Nonchalantly, Zel scurries her fingertips on the bottom of Becky’s exposed foot. Becky tries to pull it away but Zel grabs her ankle with her other hand, pinning it down. The tickling sends Becky into convulsions, snarling, spitting, and growling several assumptions about Zel’s heritage, of which approximately thirty percent are accurate from what I know.

Then she lets out a screech. Like that of an owl, only it doesn’t stop. I cover my ears to block it out but the sound is so deafening I think I might pass out. A moment later I find Walter’s arms supporting my weight while I regain my equilibrium. Becky is quiet and unconscious again.

And Zel stands over her, grim and uncompromising, with the look in her eyes that I’ve seen too many times. I never truly forget that Zelphina is a demoness. But I usually don’t consider the religious implications of loving her. I tend to think of her a one lost little girl who found another to love and be loved by. And if my demoness wasn’t a gift from God, then the ability to love and trust is.

At the same time, there are moments such as this, where I can’t help but fear that her being a demoness matters, and that right and wrong are in my blind spots. But I do know what I feel. And I feel the difference between running from a fear and standing up to it.

“Caris,” Zel says. “It’s time to fight.”

I nod. No questions. I kneel down beside Becky’s head and I lean in to her ear.

“Becky? I want to tell you a story.”

The Opening Line

This is a piece I presented at the 2014 Flash Fiction Night at the Hoover Public Library.

 

It probably doesn't make a lot of sense simply reading it, because I wrote it specifically to be 'performed'. If you like, you can always visit The Opening Line at Youtube.com to witness my debut reading of it.

 

 

 

 

The Opening Line

 

 

 

It was turning out to be one of those days as any day is prone to being but this day was like no other what with it being different.

 

The kingdom of Prell with its cities that dwell in the valleys of yon with their highspenders on and the treasonous sheen of oh my God what am I doing?

 

A shot rang out. Nobody cared. Well there’s my Hemmingway.

 

See, this is the paradox of the blank page. Endlessly inviting, full of possibilities yet providing absolutely no guidance in getting started. And writer’s block isn’t a block, like an obstacle such as a plot hole or a continuity error. No. Writer’s block is your car at five in the morning in the middle of January that just refuses to get started. I should have been writing that down.

 

In fact you’d wonder why anybody even bothers writing. Unless you have the misfortune of being a writer. Then you know. It’s your muse.

 

A muse is supposed to inspire. That’s her job. It’s what she’s supposed to do. That’s not what she does. A muse nags.

 

To wit:

 

Pen in hand. On the paper. And the opening line. Go. Go ahead. Start writing. Just move the pen and let it flow. Let the words come. Small steps. One letter, then the next. Just move the- move the pen moron. Draw a- make a mark. On the page. Draw a line. Draw anything. Write a letter of the alphabet. Dear, are you sure the pen is in the correct hand?

 

Paraphrasing.

 

What she doesn’t seem to realize is she’s not the only voice in your head. Now we all hear voices that we sometimes respond to; our conscience, our ego, our imaginary talk show interviewer. And if you’re a writer, you have an ensemble of stock characters all trying on different nuances for various story arcs and dialogue exchanges which usually play out when somebody from the real world is asking you a reasonably pertinent question like: What do you want for dinner? Or why were you driving on the wrong side of the interstate?

 

I’m not talking about those voices. I’m talking about bane of every writer’s mental stability, the one that gets summoned the moment that pen moves. Your inner critic.

 

Okay, let’s see what’s going on here. "I’ve got nothing". So this is your autobiography.

 

No it’s not. I’m just kind of clearing my throat here.

 

Because for the opening line it’s not original.

 

Yeah I get that. I’m having a little trouble getting the creativity flowing. Just trying to jog it.

 

It would sound better as 'I have nothing'.

 

See, again that doesn’t matter because that isn’t the start of the story. That’s just me writing something to tap the well.

 

'I have nothing' carries more despondency.

 

Do you want me to change it I have nothing?

 

If you have no qualms about compromising your thoughts. 'I’ve got nothing' sounds colloquial.

 

It means the same- why am I talking to you? This is officially your first obstacle, remembering that you’re not writing for your inner critic. You’re writing for your inner reader. And that leads you to your second obstacle.

 

I don’t get it.

 

Well, there’s nothing to get yet.

 

Like, are you literally in possession of nothing?

 

No, I haven’t started writing yet.

 

But you wrote 'I’ve got nothing'.

 

Just ignore that. It’s not important.

 

Oh, that could have been interesting.

 

You know you’re a writer when you’re one internal blowup away from full on schizophrenia. Oh look who’s back.

 

Dear, perhaps having nothing IS the story.

 

The muse finally pulls through. Okay, we’re off.

 

What of the dog and butterfly that they should ever be

 

Does the dog die?

 

What?

 

The dog always dies.

 

Everyone dies.

 

But do we have to hear about it in every story or song?

 

Mortality defines humanity. And literature like any art form reflects that sense of humanity. Therefore it wouldn’t be a proper story without the death of something.

 

That doesn’t mean every story has to involve death.

 

No but to be poignant it has to involve the death of something. You’ve introduced two characters. It’s logical to assume that one will die before you finish the story.

 

If I finish the story...

 

I don’t see why anything has to die.

 

It doesn’t matter if you see the why of it. The fact remains that everything does indeed die of its own accord.

 

But do we have to be reminded of it every time we listen to a folk song?

 

I’m reminded of it because we listen to folk songs.

 

Why is it writers feel like they have to indulge this sociopathic impulse to create a poor innocent animal that never hurt anyone only to murder it a few minutes later for the sake of an emotional punctuation.

 

The dog doesn’t die!

 

Does the butterfly die? Is the dog going to kill it?

 

Now that’s actually more fitting. The weak get crushed by an unstoppable juggernaut. A lesson in the acceptance of amorality.

 

Look. You’re turning this simple sentence fragment into a Sophoclean tragedy. Nobody is going to die. The dog doesn’t die. The butterfly doesn’t die. Innocent bystanders don’t get crushed, mauled, eaten or cryogenically frozen. What?

 

Is the dog going to try to fly with the butterfly and be heartbroken when it can’t?

 

 

Oh, that’s much better. Loneliness is presented as a metaphor for death.

 

I still don’t want to hear it. It’s too sad.

 

The dog would see the butterfly flapping its wings in the air above him and finds it beautiful. And when the butterfly comes a little too close, the dog holds it down with his paw thinking that he would own it. But then he realizes that it was the butterfly’s freedom that he found beautiful, so he lets it go.

 

And then what happens?

 

Nothing. That’s the whole story.

 

Oh. Well that’s actually quite charming. I would love to have heard it.