Tuesday, June 24, 2008

The Arena

Preparation for tonight's workshop:

The landscape or setting for a scene--it is the arena, the crucible into which individuals are lured or drawn or allowed to wander in, bringing with them some expectation, even if the expectation is the merest of see-what-happens expectations. We all know about the other end of the spectrum, the Great Hope or Significant Expectation or Hidden Agenda. We know because we all have them.

No country for old men, Yeats said, and MCarthy picked up on that trope, rode it forth with eloquent murky majesty.

By the way, having or being on a horse--high horse, chivalry a sense of entitlement or recognition of privilege. Chivalry, the way persons on horseback treat one another as opposed to the way they treat those on foot.

The characters enter the arena, each thinking he is right.

The clash of expectations.

The difference between what is said and what is thought.

The push of beginning story--the change of inertia.

The flare-up of identity--a match struck in the darkness. Who a character is, what the character wants.

Shelly Lowenkopf stopped for a moment to tidy his shirt and tie before entering the room. When he achieved as much neatness and composure as he thought possible, he knocked smartly on the door, opened it, and strode forth. The individuals seated around the conference table turned to greet him. "Good evening, Mr. Jones," they said in ear unison.

"Good to be here," Shelly Lowenkopf said. "Shall we get started?"


Wild Iris said...

I wish I could be going into the same arena, however I will have my own arenas to enter, some that have been entered and battled through already, and some arenas exist that are entered daily, a battle fought, sometimes won, sometimes lost, sometimes to the conclusion of a draw, only to have to come back and fight it again the next day, regardless of which conclusion it came to.

Here's to many more battles for both of us. May it never be you and I at odds.

x said...

Mr. Jones' blog?