April 19, 2013 Aunt Patrice to Job
Dear Job,
Thanks for the great story. I don’t have nearly your faith in my critical skills. For this reason, I’ve organized a little online writers workshop with a few of my friends who have agreed to give you some guidance and me some confidence. These are people I trust both for their literary judgment and for their goodwill. They’re wholehearted people, and you and I will owe them big time. So far, the most gratifying result is there’s a consensus: go for it. It’s particularly interesting to me that I’m picking up a strong Auntie Mame Meets Raging Bull vibe from this group.
The first reading of TSNK sailed right over my head. I totally didn’t get that the ouch joke was a wink to the reader. I groaned and deleted it. It wasn’t until the wee hours of the next morning that I sat upright in bed realizing this is pure slapstick.
OMG, the comedy in the names alone: Banditos, Bad Ass. BA flatters you by feigning a fatherly interest. He buys for personal use. Doiiiinnng! Your best-laid plan is to knock until somebody answers the door. You’re surprised when the chickens fly the coop the second you give them a chance. This is The Three Stooges Meets Breaking Bad—worthy of the Coen Brothers.
You’d already planted the BA/father suggestion. Then you put BA right into you father’s shoes when you see a flash of you and your siblings sleeping on his sofa. You realize you can’t kill your father, even metaphorically. (Thank you, Jesus, that’s my baby brother we’re talking about.) That’s the kind of layered meaning that makes the hair on my neck stand up. (By the way, I rewrote the part about your siblings a bit. It was confusing and unnecessarily jarring in the rough. I also wanted to add a little more emphasis to the patricide angle. Let me know if I went too far. Note too that I’ve deleted/changed names to protect the innocent.)
So here’s your next assignment:
Aunt Patrice
PS: I want to hear about how you got into boxing and won all those Golden Gloves championships. That might be a good place to start mixing some sweet in with the sour.
Thanks for the great story. I don’t have nearly your faith in my critical skills. For this reason, I’ve organized a little online writers workshop with a few of my friends who have agreed to give you some guidance and me some confidence. These are people I trust both for their literary judgment and for their goodwill. They’re wholehearted people, and you and I will owe them big time. So far, the most gratifying result is there’s a consensus: go for it. It’s particularly interesting to me that I’m picking up a strong Auntie Mame Meets Raging Bull vibe from this group.
The first reading of TSNK sailed right over my head. I totally didn’t get that the ouch joke was a wink to the reader. I groaned and deleted it. It wasn’t until the wee hours of the next morning that I sat upright in bed realizing this is pure slapstick.
OMG, the comedy in the names alone: Banditos, Bad Ass. BA flatters you by feigning a fatherly interest. He buys for personal use. Doiiiinnng! Your best-laid plan is to knock until somebody answers the door. You’re surprised when the chickens fly the coop the second you give them a chance. This is The Three Stooges Meets Breaking Bad—worthy of the Coen Brothers.
You’d already planted the BA/father suggestion. Then you put BA right into you father’s shoes when you see a flash of you and your siblings sleeping on his sofa. You realize you can’t kill your father, even metaphorically. (Thank you, Jesus, that’s my baby brother we’re talking about.) That’s the kind of layered meaning that makes the hair on my neck stand up. (By the way, I rewrote the part about your siblings a bit. It was confusing and unnecessarily jarring in the rough. I also wanted to add a little more emphasis to the patricide angle. Let me know if I went too far. Note too that I’ve deleted/changed names to protect the innocent.)
So here’s your next assignment:
- Read the feedback and take to heart the advice of your elders and betters and put it to good use. Pay particular attention to what Dan R has to say here: “Job’s character at this point lacks any redeeming features that make us appreciate what he’s telling us for anything other than its forthrightness...which makes it good therapy for him, but not particularly edifying for others...there’s no reflection or context or point of view. It’s just, ‘This is what I did. This is who I am.’ That’s a good starting point for a book, but it’s a long way from being a book.”
- Clean up the confusion about just how lightly you tapped BA with the pistol.
- Mix some sweet with the sour, please. One story of Job, the athelete, the innocent, the generous, the kind, the tender...something, anything as a counterweight fighting/stoning/whoring all day, all night. I know it’s there in you somewhere. That’s an order, Young Man. (Note I’ve taken Dan’s suggestion that I be strict with you.)
Aunt Patrice
PS: I want to hear about how you got into boxing and won all those Golden Gloves championships. That might be a good place to start mixing some sweet in with the sour.
