Chapter Six: How to Write a Great Novel

So you want to be famous, and, like all other intelligent beings, have decided that there are simply too many actors and actresses in the world to be healthy. Therefore, you’ve come up with the next best thing – after being a country star, of course. You’ve decided to write. Well, groovy guru, let’s get started.

The first thing you’ll want to decide is what sort of novel you want to write. Sometimes you can wait until about halfway through to figure this out, but I like to get formalities out of the way first.

Picked down to three choices, here’s what we have.

1. The Thriller. These stories are spine-chilling, quick-moving, heart-attack-inducing, and usually consist of about a page-worth of dialogue. If you’re not a big talker, this is the book for you.

2. The Comedy. These are tales of laughter and gaiety; usually a day-long account filled with eccentric persons, outlandish occurrences, and frequently involving an irrepressibly drunk grandfather who is constantly shown up by his brilliant, bespectacled granddaughter named Delilah.

3. The Romance. Ah, amore. Most successful romances end up being terribly dull and altogether depressing when all is over and done-with. The lovers are separated for a time, and then they are at last together, only to be separated again when the third party of the triangle arrives and demands that Freddie give up Jane or he shall die. Here, our hero has two choices: do as the bum demands, or don’t. If he does, Jane will doubtlessly never speak to him again. And if he doesn’t, well, he will doubtlessly never speak to Jane again. I believe this is where the expression “heartache” comes from, though it is usually believed to be caused by a bad diet.

To decide which style best suits you, I suggest you take this short and originally wonderful quiz.

The Short and Originally Wonderful Quiz

1. You are at the mall to meet some friends and waiting alone when a man in a mask comes up to you and demands all of your money. You...

a. Roundhouse kick the fiend in the face and then find yourself in a chase scene that circles the entire town, calling the police only when it becomes necessary.

b. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

c. Proclaim your undying love for the masked man, though your parents would never approve the match.

The End

I don’t think I need to explain the choices here, but you just never can tell. If you chose A, you are most definitely a hero – at least, in your dreams. And what better place to express dreams than through writing? I commend you.

If you chose B, you are probably just stupid. But don’t worry – people love to make fun of other people. You may just be a best seller.

If you chose C, I am not responsible to your parents.

Alright, now that we know what kind of writer you are, it is up to us to find a plot and plot twist for you. It’s up to you, mainly, to brainstorm the possibilities, but here are just a few suggestions to help get you started.

For the Hero:

o Annie wakes up one morning to discover that all of her kitchen utensils have been stolen by the ex-feminists of the neighborhood, and finds herself in a race against time and Rosie as she struggles to ascertain where her allegiances as a female lie.

o Bob the Dog is being attacked by Brutus, the new feline in the joint. A plot to run the cat out of the joint goes horribly wrong when it is discovered that Bill the Farmer plans on making pup-stew in merely a few days.

o Jack is being followed by an insane Swedish woman who seems to have a dangerous fascination with Russian fruit. Help?

For the Comedian:

o Derrick’s new job as the club clown seems to be taking a turn for the worst when he is replaced by a cackling giraffe named Daisy.

o A slightly insane old man finds himself lost in a nude colony.

o The smartest boy in class – the one with big glasses and a nasally voice who smells uncharacteristically like a calculator – loses the spelling bee.

For the Lover:

o Ted and Elise must overcome their differences if they are to ever be together. He is merely a poor, penniless man of the people. She is a bat.

o Margaret has been betrothed to a handsome prince from a distant land since birth. The problem? She is in love with Ted, from the previous story.

o Ted and Margaret are married, but now their love is threatened when the powerful prince from a distant land returns in vengeance, at his right hand sitting a bitter old bat. Sparks are bound to fly.

Well. There are some brilliant main ideas. I trust you will use them well. Just remember, whichever theme you decide to go with, that the job of the writer is to find something to say and – well – say it. More eloquently than that, however. Your story should be at least a thousand and one pages, give or take a few hundred. And when you finish, I want some of the rights to the manuscript.

Today’s lesson is over for now, my children. Now go out there and WRITE.

Chapter Five: an Odd sort of Mind

I think everyone has a tendency to believe they’re better than everyone else. In most cases, this belief is false. But in some, it is shamefully true. For example, every time I get this feeling of utter supremacy, I try to make myself feel humble again. But then the deeper, darker, more intelligent side of me says, “But people are just so dumb!”

And there, I have me.

Then there are the times I feel terribly alone in my beliefs. Oh please, every teenager feels this way. Almost every day, in fact. The “nobody understands me and my friends don’t like me and my parents embarrass me and I can’t do anything right and even if I am right nobody seems to think so” feelings. You are familiar, yes?

This has led me to sometimes wish that there were two of me. Think of it – a perfect double of yourself that you can control so they don’t steal your boyfriend or anything... but this double could be programmed to agree with every single thing you might say. How wonderful would that be?

Not very. After a while, I mean, can you imagine how annoying it would get? Conversation would, I imagine, go something like this.

“I hate this weather.”

“Me too.”

“It’s so sunny and hot, and how can the sun be so sunny and the sky be so blue when my life totally sucks?”

“I know, really.”

“Today is so lame!”

“It really is.”

“And you’re really bugging me.”

“I know, I totally am.”

“Seriously. Shut up.”

“Oh I know.”

“Ugh! I wish you would do something other than agree.”

“Me too.”

“AHHHHHHH!”
If you didn’t have a reason to complain before, you do now. If you don’t believe me, just try it. I personally think that it’s wonderful when people disagree. Perhaps a robot who disagrees with everything...?

“I hate this weather.”

“Shut up! It’s lovely weather!”

“Stop yelling at me.”

“I’m not yelling!!!”

“You are too!”

“Am not!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Nuh-uh!”

While possibly invigorating for a while, sooner or later you’ll realize that you’re turning into a kindergartener again. So either extreme you take, you’ll find yourself wishing you had taken the other one. But that’s life, isn’t it?

(“Nuh-uh!”)

Chapter Four: Imagine.

Imagine, if you will, a world with no Starbucks. Coffee Bean would thrive, but what if they closed down too? And Peet’s, and Joe’s, and all the little individual shops and homes with anything resemblent of a coffee maker? What you would have is a world of crotchety old men, a middle aged working class, and angsty teenagers who suddenly want to murder the first person they see in the morning. Aside from the funeral homes’ business skyrocketing, the world would be a generally depressing place. Agreed? Of course you do. I can hear your heartbeat speed up at the thought.

Anyway. Life would suck and there would be absolutely nothing we could do about it. People would be forced to turn to energy drinks, the ones that taste more or less like flavored water with grass and sweet-tarts crushed up inside. As our hearts became more and more stressed with this sudden intake of sugar and caffeine, hospitals would thrive. But sooner or later, let’s face it – kaboom. Kapoot. Our hearts stop. Again, the morticians are in revelry while the rest of us poor suckers stand by and wait for our turn.

After a while, the morticians get too full of themselves. They realize the power they hold, and after the suggestion from the head honcho – who will probably end up being of German heritage – they decide to take over the world.

The goths have no problem with this, of course, but those of us with real brains become paranoid. Soon we can’t go anywhere without the fear of a gravedigger lurking behind overwhelming us. And then, in the years’ biggest soap opera, Eric shocks the nation by revealing that he is, in fact, a coroner! The world is sent into spasms.

By now there are only a few of us left. We hide in the shadows and cower in basements, keeping out of sight. Until one day, some great leader comes along and discloses the fact that he never was a coffee-addict – he drank tea. The world is saved!

Not quite. Not everyone was as smart as this tea consumer, and their strength is waning. Sooner or later, they die out. The Tea Drinkers make their move, and strike at the footholds of the morticians. Somehow. Secretly.

And suddenly, the funeral homes are empty. The dictators have passed on. And now, the only people remaining in the world realize the previous generations’ mistake: coffee. So, they swear a vow to always drink tea instead. And bam. The world has suddenly returned to 18^th century England.

So the next time you go to Starbucks and order your coffee mocha ice blended, think of exactly what you’re doing. And perhaps you’ll order a chai tea instead.

* I hereby apologize for any insults I may have caused Starbucks employees, morticians, or Nazi dropouts.

Chapter Three: How to tell if He/She likes You

Well, first of all, you should be wondering why you would want to know if a he/she liked you. Once you’ve decided, you should be able to discover that I am, in fact, giving advice to both genders.

If You are a Girl: Read Here.

Ah, the age-old question. Does he like you? Well, instead of you murdering poor flowers, maybe I can help you out. Here are some definite signs that attention from the male sex is soon to come your way.

1. He always watches you at a party.
2. He laughs at all your jokes, even the stupid ones. Especially the stupid ones.
3. He sends you flowers.
4. He asks for your cell phone number.
5. He memorizes your cell phone number.
6. He comments on all your pictures with things like, “Nice”, or, “Hahaha”, or, “Good pic”, because he can’t bring himself to say to your face (or computer screen) that you’re pretty.
7. He buys you popcorn at the movie theatre. Even though he ends up eating it all, it’s the thought that counts.
8. He tries to hide jealousy when you mention hot male actors but he ends up looking slightly constipated instead.
9. He’s never once looked at any of your girl-friends the way he looks at you.
10. He can name the brand of perfume you wear. And that’s when it’s time to run.

If You are Not a Girl: Don’t Read Here.

Guys, I just wasted two seconds of your life while you tried to figure that out. Now I’ve wasted six. How do you feel about that?

If You are a Guy: Read Here.

Well. Guys, I would genuinely love you help you out here. But, I’m sorry to tell you, that there is nothing I can tell you that will make understanding the complex entity of the female mind any easier. The cavemen didn’t understand it, and neither did Elvis. Contrary to what the latter believed, the way to win a girls heart is not by relating her to a hound-dog. However, if you’re willing to put up with my logic, perhaps I can offer a few helpful hints. Here are the quickest ways to a girl’s heart.

1. Become a millionaire.
2. Write a song about her, praising her facial features rather than how amazing you think her toes look in high heel sandals. Actually, if the toe idea has crossed your mind, it might be best to forget the song writing in general.
3. You may be smart and you may be fast. But being able to recite every law of gravity and every number in Pi to the beat of the newest hit rap song is not the most enjoyable way to spend a date.
4. Never, under any circumstances, tell her she’s being unreasonable. If you do, you are asking for a murder and I won’t be able to help you past this point.
5. Learn to play an instrument. Preferably the piano. I know all the “cool guys” play guitar, but trust me – girls will adore the sensitivity you put into your piano pieces. Unless, of course, all you can play is Fur Elise, in which case you’ll just annoy them.
6. Acquiring an accent (Irish, Scottish, English and Australian seem to be the favorites) won’t hurt either.
7. Boasting about chest hair may impress other guys, but with your date... not so much.
8. You better pray you hit it off with her dog. And her dad. And mom. And her sisters. And her older brother. In fact, if there is any doubt that any one of these persons will hate you, it’s best to hold off a family meeting until after the wedding.
9. Never tell her she’s wrong. If you do, you must quickly renounce your argument or else buy a lifelong pass to Sees candy.
10. Don’t call her every minute. That just feels needy. But be prepared to know that if you don’t, she will dump you.
11. In short, be ready for anything. Because I can promise you right now that you will never, ever understand her.

Well folks, that’s the best I can do for now. If you’re still confused, I suggest you write in your diary, or write an emo song about your feelings. Everyone else does.

Chapter Two: A Question of Grave Importance

It’s a wonder that we’re all here alive on this earth. How do people find other people attractive enough to want to make more? I mean I guess now I can understand why guys find girls attractive and vice versa... because we all put so much into our appearance. But really. Let’s go back a couple thousand years and explore this in its’ entirety.

For example, the cave-people. How in the world did those men find those women appealing? Smelly, hairy, bad breath and probably no TruBlend to cover up the prominent zits on their oily faces.

This ups the question: what did prehistoric women use to shave their legs? Sharp rocks? Yeah. I’m sure the scars added to the beauty.

How about the ancient Greeks? Well, the pleasantly plump women all ran around with no shirts on, which I guess makes it more or less a Utopia for any guy shallow enough to think that deeply into it. But let’s turn the tables. Girls, how did we find them attractive? They wore dresses! Call me sexist but I believe the skirt is a right that should be reserved only for the female form.

A little later on, we have the Spaniards, English and French. These were all homosexuals.

Skipping ahead to the mid-1800’s. I guess the Civil War uniforms were alright... but the facial hair? Come on. Where the guys trying to lure, sheep?

And then the 20’s. Suits and fedoras. Well.... nevermind, that was preferable, actually. Moving on.

The 70’s. Earlier periods might have been dismissed for pure stupidity but this is just too far. Sequins on shirts? Guys wearing bell-bottoms?? Orange PLAID?! I can’t get over the fact that the human race did not go extinct during this time period.

Now that we’re in the 2000s, I can’t very well pick on our fashion without appearing in the least bit hypocritical. So I’ll stop there.

But you can’t ignore the facts. You look back at what people were wearing 10 years ago and scoff, knowing well in the back of your mind that in 10 years, people will look back at your Myspace pictures and scoff in the same – but assuredly more scene – tones. Again, we find ourselves lost in a sadistic cycle.

My reasoning for this madness? It’s quite simple. I firmly believe in the stupidity of the races. As long as the celebrities (who are probably really aliens) and politicians (who better be aliens) wear it, it must be cool. Actually, not the politicians. They’ve been “out” for years.

And as long as this insanity still lurks behind every “for sale” sign in America, it will continue on. So if you wish to break the cycle, I suggest you look to our ancestors, the cave-people. Maybe they were doing something right after all.

Chapter One: Breaking the Rules

Have you ever complained to either parent, “I’m bored”, only to get that frustrating response, “Go read a book”? So we ask for a comic book, or one of those useless magazines with photos of the newest adolescent vocalist in his swimming pool. Of course, when we ask, the answer is no. But if you simply pick up that book or magazine, it’s all fine. It’s a vicious cycle. No matter what we do, no matter what we read, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we appear to be getting some kind of an education.

Deception is a handy device. Take a look at this chapter title. This chapter, in fact, has nothing to do with rules, or with breaking them. It’s an attention-grabber. Within these pages, I will merely do what most of us sane teenagers do best: whine in cynical tones. Don’t cry, emo boys, you know it’s true.

Though, there is only so far you can go with deception before it starts ruining things. Literature, for example, has gone completely down the drain. Today, I went to a book-store, that sacred house of literary genius. Aside from Shakespeare and Steinbeck, the only thing for young adults (aside from American Girl books like “Coconut’s Day Out”) was an aisle filled with highly-textured, brightly-colored covers. Apparently that’s the only way to capture our interest. This was degrading enough. But what really got me was when I looked at some of the titles. “First Kiss.” “Last Embrace.” “Forbidden Boy”. Forbidden Boy? Just one? How interesting is that?

So my fellow teenagers, is this what it’s come down to? The only books written for people our age are sappy romance stories with first sentences like, “Carrie knew Drew liked her when he first tucked a rose petal in her locker”? 30 pages, large font, bright flashy colors that scream, “LOOK AT ME!”, and poor grammar?

Personally, I am against it.

I think that we need to bond together and save the right to good literature for this young generation. Or else, learn to cope with the fact that in 30 years, Barney will be a guest speaker at Harvard.

For my part, I’m writing this – a book with no particular plot or purpose other than that of pure entertainment, and maybe a tad bit of commiseration. These are my thoughts as I go through life. Perhaps you’ve shared some?