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Sunday, May 15, 2011

Notes from the Writers’ Block

“You just don’t have an ear for dialogue,” Roger muttered. 
“Yes, I do,” he replied. 
“Well, what’s the problem, then?”
“I didn’t say there was a problem.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Did not.”
“You implied it.”

Roger moaned to himself and wandered into the kitchenette, scratching his buttocks.  If Roger had been American, he would have scratched his ass. 

“I just can’t think of anything,” he said, returning to the table and picking up his pen. 
“You’re drinking beer?? It’s only eight o’clock in the morning!”
“Óh, fuck off.  Shut up.”
“You really mean that?”
“Yes.”

Roger and his pen sat for a moment in silence. 

“Alright,” Roger said.  “Go ahead.”
“Go ahead and do what?  You told me to shut up.  I’m shut.  Up.”

“I’m sorry,” Roger said, finally.  “Let’s cooperate for once and get something done.”
“Well, you could cook something,” Roger replied grudgingly.  “I’m feeling a bit peckish.”  If he had been American, he would have been able to eat a horse. 

“Oh Gawd,” said Roger.  He lit a cigarette and had a swig of beer.  Roger’s two cats, who were lying on the table waiting for him to stop trying to write, blinked at him patiently when they saw him looking vacantly in their direction. 

“I’ve already fed you,” he said, absently.  “Too many adverbs in one go.”  If Roger had been American it would have been too many adverbs in a row. 

“You’ve already fed them.”
“I know.  I just said that.”
“Pancakes?”
“We don’t have any eggs.’‘

Roger sighed.  Was it going to be like this forever?

“We have tons of food.  It doesn’t have to be pancakes,” Roger prodded.  If he had been American, it would have been lots, and he might have poked.  If he had been British, it probably wouldn’t have been pancakes. 

“Maybe it’s not dialogue that’s your problem,” Roger said.