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Multiple Man
When I was a kid, I didn't own any clothes; I owned costumes. There was my Lois Lane suit, my Orphan Annie dress, my Princess Leia outfit, my Greatest American Hero pajamas, my ninja gi. . . When I woke up in the morning and put on one or the other, I expected for everyone to address me by the proper name, and for my mother to know whether she was Little John today or Commissioner Gordon.
This is still partially true. Today, for example, I am Curt Wild.
When I got a little older and REL came into the picture, things became more elaborate. We had large casts of original characters, each of us playing twenty at a time -- rendering costumes obsolete. Instead, we had to make all of them indistinguishable by walk, by accent, by speech pattern and inflection. I doubt I ever went by my own name until I moved out of the house.
You would think that all of this experience would make me a great actor, but I am not. Too self aware. I'm a great director, of course, because I can give people the techniques they need and then trust them to do a good job, but I cannot lose myself in a character. At least, this is what I say, because it makes a lot of people feel safer.
A month ago, Val and I were at the Mexican bakery, and I shuffled my feet in a certain way. She stopped dead in her tracks and demanded that I never do it again -- too disturbing. No amount of argument will ever persuade her that it was me in that moment instead of Harry. Yesterday, Patrick asked me whether I was obsessed with tea first or Harry was, and I couldn't answer beyond saying that it cuts both ways.
Apparently, I am completely unable to write someone without becoming him. Or vice versa, I'm really not sure. Today, I found myself exclaiming "penguins do it! Why can't we?" although I am not a chicken, and I don't intend to go ice fishing any time soon. Overall, I don't suppose I mind the transformations; I've always been a bit of an information sponge and compiler, and I assimilate new characters in the same way that I update my philosophy when I read a new idea.
However, I think the novel may be becoming a problem. Of the four main characters, one is a pleasantly laid-back schizophrenic, one is an exceptionally violent dwarf, one is a woman who prefers inanimate objects to people, and one is a folding chair. They're also all severe internet junkies with very little regard for their own health or safety.
I'm not actually bothered by any of that.
No, the chief setback is that one of the characters has writer's block.
This is still partially true. Today, for example, I am Curt Wild.
When I got a little older and REL came into the picture, things became more elaborate. We had large casts of original characters, each of us playing twenty at a time -- rendering costumes obsolete. Instead, we had to make all of them indistinguishable by walk, by accent, by speech pattern and inflection. I doubt I ever went by my own name until I moved out of the house.
You would think that all of this experience would make me a great actor, but I am not. Too self aware. I'm a great director, of course, because I can give people the techniques they need and then trust them to do a good job, but I cannot lose myself in a character. At least, this is what I say, because it makes a lot of people feel safer.
A month ago, Val and I were at the Mexican bakery, and I shuffled my feet in a certain way. She stopped dead in her tracks and demanded that I never do it again -- too disturbing. No amount of argument will ever persuade her that it was me in that moment instead of Harry. Yesterday, Patrick asked me whether I was obsessed with tea first or Harry was, and I couldn't answer beyond saying that it cuts both ways.
Apparently, I am completely unable to write someone without becoming him. Or vice versa, I'm really not sure. Today, I found myself exclaiming "penguins do it! Why can't we?" although I am not a chicken, and I don't intend to go ice fishing any time soon. Overall, I don't suppose I mind the transformations; I've always been a bit of an information sponge and compiler, and I assimilate new characters in the same way that I update my philosophy when I read a new idea.
However, I think the novel may be becoming a problem. Of the four main characters, one is a pleasantly laid-back schizophrenic, one is an exceptionally violent dwarf, one is a woman who prefers inanimate objects to people, and one is a folding chair. They're also all severe internet junkies with very little regard for their own health or safety.
I'm not actually bothered by any of that.
No, the chief setback is that one of the characters has writer's block.
no subject
sorry. bad day. hurumph.