Yesterday, I submitted my first piece for workshop.
Next Thursday, my classmates and professor will tell me what about this first chapter I need to revise. It will also be the first time I’ve let anyone (beside Luke) read any of this book!!?
Before this goes through another evolution of changes, I wanted to share it here in its current draft. Because it’s come a long way.
The premise of my novel, as a brush-up: Dream Big, Inc. focuses on Ryan, a bartender at a grass-roots comedy theater set on the outskirts of a rapidly developing “climate city.” When a new person comes into The Theater, Ryan chases their validation and becomes addicted to applause. The more he chases, the more things go off the rails for The Theater that raised him.
So far, I’ve holistically revised this chapter many times.
the very first draft: It was set in a futuristic corporate building. Ryan responded as a holographic pigeon to customer support questions about glitching Theater software. Like if A24 had a virtual reality movie set video game. (A mouthful to write.) Set in third person. It was too Black Mirror, big and kitschy. I knew I would have to scale it back later, it was borderline a freewrite exercise, but I had to keep moving toward the ending. Written by hand in a notebook.
restarting the first draft: Retyping the fifty or so pages I wrote by hand. Halfway through my current first draft, I scrapped the first 50 pages set in the corporate building. That left the current version as a long stretch of exposition. Ryan going through his day: the city, his coworkers, his studio apartment. It also had a Vulture-style profile of “The Tent Kids,” the viral content creators who founded The Theater. I had an idea I would intercut every chapter with found media (i.e. a character’s acting resume, a flyer for a Theater show).
the almost-there draft: A month ago, reading the above draft as I’m discussing plot and scene in my MFA, I was horrified to discover I had only written exposition. NOTHING HAPPENED. THE ENTIRE TIME. I was humbled!!!! I rewrote this chapter to have everything set in the smaller, cabin setting I discovered writing the second half of the novel. Instead of using exposition as backstory to explain the characters, I tried to make them move. This felt better. But I still didn’t feel like I knew Ryan. Which is bad, if he’s the protagonist.
this current draft, the one you have now: I switched to first person. All the previous drafts had a close 3rd person POV on Ryan, but putting it in his voice made it feel like a tall tale. It became funnier. So I rewrote it and subtracted some characters (though there are still plenty of characters in this first chapter).
This is the first part. It’s long, approx. 20 pages double spaced and almost 6,000 words in Word doc, so parse at your leisure.
And, for kicks, I’ll give you the questions I sent to my workshop when thinking about how this evolves in its fifth draft:
What holds your attention? Where does your attention drag?
How would you describe Ryan?
How would you describe Milford?
With the wide ensemble, are there characters who stand out? Characters who fade into the background and could be introduced later?
What do you think happens in Chapter 2? What do you feel are the questions you’re asking about this world and Ryan?
And, without further ado….Dream Big, Inc.
1.
I knelt next to a toilet I did not rent, own, or even personally use. Lisa and I came into our shift, and the toilet had stopped flushing. The first-floor toilet clogged all the time. Old pipes. Audience members comfortably ignored the sign thumbtacked to the wall in a sheet protector: We’re a “yes, and” house. Until it comes to flushing anything but toilet paper. Please, no—no buts. Lisa had discovered the toilet’s slow flushing yet somehow anchored in the hallway away from the problem, leaving me to deal with it. From the open door, she rambled about Frank: “I swear there’s something mentally wrong with him.” Sometimes I wondered if she wielded her pity stories about her dead-beat boyfriend as leverage to get out of these hardy dude tasks. Carrying heavy crates of beer and groceries to restock The Theater’s fridge. Raking. Anything to do with toilets.
“He told me he had to override my computer games to make space for some sort of video editing software he claims he needs for work,” Lisa continued.
My hand pruned in the tank’s cold water. I pulled blindly at chains and lids, hoping to strike running water and a solution. “What landscaper needs video editing software?” My sarcasm echoed back at me from the ceramic tank. “It couldn’t possibly be another gambling game hiding a virus. He wouldn’t do that twice.”
“You don’t get it,” Lisa said.
“Because I’m a guy?”
“Because you’re an asshole.”
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