WRITERS WRITE...WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ WHO ARE THEY?
When at a party where there are people I don't know, I am in an element that instigates my imagination. What to say becomes the direct pay-off of how people I meet make me feel or the situation of the moment. It can be like an improv class. Of course it is appropriate but unexpected by most. But does it start out that way? Nope! I sit back and study the group. I ask myself questions. Why are those two together? Is he wearing eye shadow or do his upper lids have just a natural blue hue?
Z: I remember him.
A: You weren't at that party.
Z: Yes, I was. They served those huge spare ribs, hand rubbed, with a bit of a bite to them.
A: Oh, yeah, they were good, but still wrong party. That was the football get-together. The one I am talking about was when was a baby shower.
Z: I went to that one, great crab dip.
A: Nope, that was the New Year's Eve post-eve party.
Z: Five cheese fundue?
A: Why do you equate everything with food?
Z: (Ponders) Aren't we getting off track?
A: (Doesn't remind him he didn't answer the question, for they are. Ummm....yup...back to the pontification.
A/Z: Tries to decide who is writing what.
Anywho, I think about things like, what is she wearing beneath that dress... what could she possibly be wearing... it is too sheer... is she a grannie panty person... a sheer oh lala naughty under thing sort?
I see a couple. I figure that they are young and in love. So what is the truth of their youth? What does he smell like? What does she? How long did they spend getting ready? What does she/he taste like when they kiss? Does she/he taste different inpublic then in private? Who is alpha? Would she ask? Beg? Take? Would he? Have they ever danced nude... at night... and in the rain... why... why not? Does he naturally take her hand when people encroach? Does she find protection from him? Does she glow? Does he? But do they glow apart? Is there a kinetic attraction that is felt when they are separated? Could anyone sense their affinity for each other?
One of the greatest quotes that I heard uttered, moved me. "I saw her across the room (at a party) and the only voice I heard was hers. Heard her all night. So I had to meet her." Ten years later they are together. I find myself compelled to understand attraction. I am drawn to that allure.
I can't help but make up stories about people, whether a couple or an old man, or a classy lady or a doorman or a student...or...or...or.... What brought them to this place and time? What was their childhood like. Why do they look so sad...angry...happy...tipsy...saucy? Why? Why? People see me as quiet at times, for I need to venture in that land of what if for a while. I don't do this just at parties, but at parks and malls and coffee shops.
However, for a period of time when at a party, I am a voyeur and then I mingle. And try to resolve some of my questions. I try to get at the truth, knowing all the while if I steal a bit of a person's personality for a character, it will be salted well with my own little white lies. So, while others dance, small-talk, and double-dip their chips, I query. I'll ask the hostess how could she possibly pull that dress off, wearing spandex undies? And if I am lucky she'll reply, she will laugh. Sometimes, I'll get a look that suggests I'll never get invited back.
And so the night begins. Asking questions maybe everyone else wanted to ask. Doesn't Max understand his toupee looks anything but natural? Hey bud, your merkin is moving to high ground? Could Wayne have worn a shirt with more wrinkles? Own an iron that works? And does Paula know every old geezer is ogling her blouse's décolleté? I bet she knows. Go Paula. I'll ask.
Then again, sometimes, I just pretend to ask and make up my own answers. Hence, the seeds of a few new characters are planted.
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