Mind the Gap

Pottery shard, Ramat Rachel, Israel.

Today I find myself in a situation I have not experienced since, at least, July 5, 2021. Specifically, I don't have a short story to be working on.

I know the date, because I just finished a novella, and I started it on July 6, two years ago.  You may be surprised that it takes me two years to write a novella.  Well, here's the thing.  When I get an idea for a new story I generally drop everything and start to work on it.  My reasoning is that I'm a very slow writer and I want to strike while the iron is hot, to use a cliche.  Write the story as close to the moment of inspiration as possible.

So, I have probably written a dozen stories since starting this novella. But I have nothing on hand to write next.

This is not a panicky moment.  I know exactly  what I will be doing tomorrow, writing-wise.

For one thing, I will edit some of the seven stories I have finished a draft of but don't have ready to submit.  My stories average  ten drafts.  I work on one most days after doing my first-draft writing for the day.  And when I finish a first draft completely I usually take a week off from writing new stuff, and just edit.  

Secondly, it is not quite accurate to say I have no idea what to write next.  You see, the novella I have been working on is the fourth in my series about Delgardo, a beat poet.  Hitchcock's has published two and purchased the third.

The first story in the series was set in October 1958 and each story moves ahead by one month.  A real event occurred in February 1959 which fits perfectly into the lives of my characters, so my next job is to research that event and figure out how to turn  it into a plot.

So don't worry about me.  I'll fill the hours somehow.  How about you?

ADDENDUM: Two days after I wrote the above an editor asked me to write a story for an anthology.  I immediately had an idea for a sequel to a different tale.  So Delgardo will have to wait. I'm off to the races... 

Dancing The Jig

We are headed deep in the lexicographic woods today.  If that's not your jam you have my blessing to move on.

As I mentioned previously, at Bouchercon I was on a panel about librarians and we prepared a webpage of resources for our audience.  I wanted to included Google Ngram Viewer, which allows you to trace the use of a word or phrase over centuries.  

Here is what I wrote:

Google Ngram Viewer.  Search millions of books and journals for words and phrases. Great for writing historicals. When did the phrase “the jig is up” start appearing in print?  When did it become popular?

I picked that phrase as the first crime-fiction-related term that popped into my head.  But after the conference I decided to take a closer look at what Ngram came up with.  And the result surprised me.

So, do me a favor and think for a moment. What does the phrase "the jig is up" mean?  In what context do you expect to find it?  If you are ready we will proceed...

The earliest example Ngram could find was from The Clockmaker, or the Sayings and Doings of Sam Slick. This was a comic novel written by the Canadian author Thomas Chandler Haliburton in the 1830s.  Oddly enough I have read the book and it isn't a struggle to get through.  

I became aware of the book when I was writing an essay about a different word: "slinky."

 But here is Mr. Haliburton on our phrase for the day:

The jig is up with Halifax and it's all their fault. If a man sits at his door and sees stray cattle in his field, a eatin up his crop...why I should say it sarves him right.

Fair enough.  But does that match the meaning  I asked you to fix in your head?

The next hit I found was a Dictionary of Americanisms from 1860.  That book says the phrase means "The game is up. It is all over for me." And that seems like a good fit with our Canadian friend.

But it isn't what the phrase means to me.  Here is what  a modern dictionary says about it: the scheme or deception is revealed or foiled. "the jig is up; you've had your last chance."

Exactly!  You might say that the modern meaning is a subset of the older one.  The phrase  used to mean something was over. Now it means something dishonest is over.  My example would have been something like:  "The jig is up, Bugsy.  We've called the cops."

So when did the change happened?  I suspected that, like so much criminal slang, we owe it to Prohibition. (For example, Donald E. Westlake  pointed out that "hardboiled dick" is a combination of World War I military slang with French-Canadian Prohibition jargon.)

Let's get on the trail and see what we can find out.

In 1877 in The Innocents Abroad, Mark Twain wrote about people despairing and saying "The jig is up." Definitely the old meaning.

In 1881 Sheridan Mack quoted a man talking about a woman who left him:  "The jig is up and I ain't the fella to squeal on her. Matilda is as gay as a peach and I ain't gonna get all spoony."

In "The Flag Paramount," written by O. Henry in 1902, a character uses the term to say a Latin American revolution is over.  Still the old meaning.

But eleven years later in "The Badge of Policeman O'Roon" the same author has a policeman use that phrase to lament that he is too drunk to go on duty. Has Henry shifted to  the modern meaning in that decade or is it a coincidence?

Next Ngram pulled up an article from The Moving Picture World (1916).  Describing the movie The Defective Detective the writer said that when  a policeman enters the room "the jig is up." Now we're getting it!

Next comes a 1923 article from a magazine with the unlikely name of The Lather.  1923. It turns out to be the publication of the Wood, Wire, and Metal Lathers Union. This is part five of "A Confession" by an "Ex-Under-cover Man" about his infiltration of factories. 

It reads like  the author had been reading (or writing for?) Black Mask.  When he spots a competitor spying on him he tells his assistants: "Shadow the boarding house until you see him leaving, then catch up with him and tell him the jig is up and you are next to him.  Scare him red-headed if you want to, but don't harm him in anyway."

It's clear that by now we have the modern meaning, but I can't resist one more source.  In 1929 Joseph K. London wrote an article for The Jeweler's Circular on new methods to foil a hold-up man.  One involved taking the fiend's photograph. When he sees the flash he knows "the jig is up.'"

What none of these examples does is help explain why the phrase exists at all.  Why isn't it "the jig is down?" Or, for that matter, "the hornpipe is rotund?"

As I said when I was discussing the word "slinky," etymology is a wonderful time-sucker.

What's It All About?

 I've been thinking about what individual stories are about.  I don't mean plot.  Do I mean theme? Maybe so.

What brought this to mind was an interview with  Tim Minchin, Australian comedian. singer, and composer of the bestselling musical Matilda.  He said that all of his work is about the same thing: How do you lead an ethical life?

As you see, that's a deeper "about" than just plot.  So let's play around a bit...

The very first mystery story, Poe's "Murders in the Rue Morgue" is about the triumph of rational thought.

Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" is about evil lurking under the surface of the ordinary (definitely a recurring theme for her).  Or is it about atavistic hangovers in civilization? Certainly a tale can be about more than one thing.

Susan Glaspell''s "A Jury of Her Peers" and Roald Dahl's "Lamb the the Slaughter" are both about men's inability to see things from women's point of view.  

Donald E. Westlake said "I believe my subject is bewilderment.  But I could be wrong."

My own first published story, which you can read here, is about the effects of  betrayal.  My story "Why" is, logically enough, about motive.

I suppose my favorite "about," which comes up again and again in my writing and my favorite stories is the possibility of redemption: someone trying to fix a mistake.

The reason I am pondering all this is that "When You Put It That Way" appears in the November-December issue of Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine.  It is my fortieth story there.  

And it is about economics.

What?  Capitalists versus socialists?  Evil corporate monopolies? Progressive versus regressive taxation?

None of the above.  I have heard economics defined as "the study of the  allocation of scarce resources,"  

In my story, that resource is personnel.

My protagonist is a district attorney faced with an unsolvable dilemma.  1. A billionaire just killed two people.  2. The sheriff thinks she has evidence of a serial killer.  

The dilemma: Both crime scenes need a lab technician immediately and he only has one to send.  I put plenty more obstacles in his path, but that's the essence of the problem. Scarce resources.

As I was writing this blog I was reminded of something I was told by a friend who is in the biz: "An economist is someone who, after a battle, shoots the wounded."

Come to think of it, "Shooting the Wounded" would have been a pretty good title for my story.  But I like "When You Put It That Way."

I hope you do too.


 

My First Century

 

 Monday was the publication date for Happiness is a Warm Gun: Crime Stories Inspired by Songs of the Beatles.  My story is the lead-off, because "I Saw Her Standing There" appeared on the Fab Four's first album.

I am particularly delighted by this publication because it marks my one hundredth published story.  This seems like an excellent opportunity to crunch some numbers and look at my oeuvre, so to speak.

So let's get crunching.

 

 

As you will see here the majority of my publications have been in print magazines.  Of course, "print magazine" is a phrase that would have been completely unnecessary when I first got published, like "conventional produce" or "analog clock."

And now I feel like I am designing an annual report for a very small niche corporation.  

I was surprised to find that fully one quarter of my stories fall into the amateur sleuth category, largely because of my character Shanks.

The Other category is consists mostly of stories with so many characters I can't identify one as the protagonist and use her/him to identify the category.

 

Here we get to characters, with Shanks taking the lead.  He is still very much alive (with at least two stories coming out next year).  Unfortunately the next two,  Marty Crow and Uncle Victor, seem to be retired.  

We will probably hear from the other series characters, if the editors are willing.

 

Here are the decades in which my stories are set.  Since 8 of my tales get listed as fantasy/science fiction I was surprised that only one is set in the future.  Some were set in the future when I wrote them, but time has rolled past them.  I guess that makes them Alternative History stories by default.

 

 

And here we have publication dates.  So far the 2010s are in the lead but the 2020s are still young. 

Speaking of the future, as I was a couple of paragraphs ago, what does the future hold for my writing? 

Well, the day after the Beatles book was published the November/December issue of Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine appeared, featuring "When You Put It That Way." It's my 101st story, so the next century is on its way.  

Let's see how far I get...

Quotes at the Marina

Two weeks ago I reported on my adventures at Bouchercon in beautiful San Diego.  As usual I had my trusty notebook with me and was jotting down words of wisdom, and other words as well.  Here are the results...

 "If the book begins with three dead girls on the floor of an Irish bar you know where you are.  It's not a sweet little romance.  So stop giving me those one-star reviews." - Linda Sands

"This novel started as a 700-word piece of flash fiction." - Hugh Lessig.

"My first novel is Dead Lawyers, which was therapeutic." - Judith Ayn

"When my book was published it was like I sent a child out into the world.  Go make friends.  Some people are going to hate you.  I'm going on to do something else." - Sadie Hartmann

 

"Writing a book is cheaper than therapy." - S. A. Cosby

"People like to talk to writers and they tell me things they wouldn't if they were sober." - Jeffrey Seger

"My bio on Amazon indicates I'm 25 years old and all I ever did was go to college." - G.M. Malliot

"I spent nine months in New Zealand and everywhere I looked there was a murder that needed writing." - Sara E. Johnson

"All the members of my family think the people in my books are based on other members." - S.A. Cosby 

"My protagonist is Japanese-American like me but I don't think that gives me any kind of advantage, like there's some kind of ancestral memory." - Scott Kikkawa

"The murder people are the nicest people." - Erin Flanagan

"This is a first person book so all the swearing is his fault." - Jo Perry

"How did I deal with a bad review?  I stopped reading reviews." - Cara Black

"There is a small subgenre of stoner noir." - J.D. O'Brien

"I've already written a draft.  It's currently a big pile of garbage on my editor's desk." - Lina Chern

"How many times have you come up with the perfect comeback at three in the morning?  There's still time to put it in the book." - Donna Anders

"English teachers don't kill themselves without leaving a note." - Lori Robbins

"No one has a baby and gets a one-star review." - Lee Matthew Goldberg

"The funniest thing is really death.  It's the big banana peel we all slip on." - Jo Perry

"My work is pretty dark and I look like a middle school teacher so  get asked a lot if I'm okay." - Meagen Lucas

"The talk in small towns: I love the poetry of profanity." - Bobby Mathews

"Lips may lie but teeth never do." - Sara E. Johnson

"I love reading a book where I disappear.  For me that's a book that starts with small decisions." - Mark Stevens

"Pantsers terrify me." - Keir Graff

"It took me about forty years to figure out that people were laughing with me, not at me. - Greg Herren

"Eat. Pray. Barf." - Wendall Thomas

"My first goal is to entertain.  No, that's not true.  My first goal is to break your heart and make you cry."   - Meagen Lucas

"Wanna lose sixty pounds in a hurry? Die." - Jo Perry

"We don't call it a sensitivity reader.  We call it someone who knows things." - Donna Anders

"One-star reviews also sell books." - Sadie Hartmann

"My husband said you better have an agent look at that contract.  I said why? I'm going to sign it anyway." - Cara Black

"A friend said 'your book is so good I forgot you wrote it.'" - Heather Chavez

"Jewish grandmothers, Black grandmothers, Italian grandmothers, all sing the same song." - Cheryl M. Head

 

"I was stinking it up with sincerity." - Jamie Mason

"Historical fiction is allegorical, like science fiction." Scott Kikkawa

"I don't remember agreeing to [edit the anthology]. I drink a lot at these things." - Greg Herren

"Our children own history and we owe them accuracy." - Vanessa Riley

"Ellery Queen doesn't want your robot erotica.  At least they didn't want mine." - E.A. Aymar

"'Write about what you know' gets a bad rap.  If you don't know do the research and then you know." - Barb Goffman

"I don't personally poison people." - Heather Chavez

"If I was historically accurate I would write in three languages and four dialects, and that would be hard on the publisher, much less the reader." - Ovidia Yu

"I don't think anything I have ever written has matched the bright and shining vision I have in my head." - Eleanor Kuhns

"The 1990 Pride and Prejudice is the best version.  If you bring up that 2000 thing I will meet you outside." - Vanessa Riley

"My secret belief is that writers like short stories more than readers." - E. A. Aymar

"Families: you can't really kill them.  Usually." - S. A. Cosby

"There's nothing better than my next book because the one I am writing now is always crap." - Mike McCrary

"What's superstition? Everyone knows if you take pork over the Pali your car's gonna stall." - Scott Kikkawa  

"I think I still don't know what I didn't know then." - Scott Von Doviak

That San Diego Treat

 I am writing this on the plane back from San Diego after having enjoyed the 2023 Bouchercon.  It is, I think, the eighth I have attended  and it was at least as well-run and fun as any of the others.

Here is one big improvement they came up with (at least, I have never been to a con where they did this).  Instead of stuffing the attendees’ swag bag with free books, each member was given three tickets which they could take to a room called the Book Bazaar (NOT the dealer's room) and swap them for any three new books they chose.  Once the organizers knew how many books were coming from publishers the freebie count went up to five.  As you can imagine this resulted in a lot of boxes of swag being shipped back home.  I myself made a little pilgrimage to UPS.

One of the highlights of the weekend (for me) was a panel I moderated.  I stole the idea from the World Science Fiction Conference where it is called “45 Panels in 60 Minutes.”  We called our version “20 Panels in One.” The idea is that audience members write down topics and toss them into a hat and panelists pick them out and have less than a minute to bestow their wisdom on that subject.  

At Worldcon this turns toward comedy but here the questions were serious and the brave panelists (Mike McCrary, Eleanor Kuhns, Steve Von Doviak, and Keir Graff) did a great job.  The result seemed to me to be close to an mini-unconference.  Instead of the usual panel arrangement (moderator asking questions for 40 minutes, followed by 10 minutes from the audience) this was 40 minutes of audience queries, with me finishing up. 

Sample questions: “What is your protagonist most afraid of?  What are you?”  “Donald Westlake. Discuss.” 

It was an interesting experiment.    One audience member told me she thought it should be repeated at every con, but I don’t plan to be at the Nashville con, so someone else would have to take that on. I can think of two improvements: instead of using a floppy sun hat, I should have brought the dapper fedora you see in the picture.  And instead of going down the row each time I would ask the panelists to speak up if they have anything to contribute on the topic.

And speaking of reactions… I have mentioned that I was once on a panel with a very chatty moderator.  Afterwards a stranger came up and said “I attended your panel.  I wish I’d gotten to hear you.”

Well, after “20 Panels in One” a stranger said “I wish you had spoken more.”

I replied “The moderator isn’t supposed to.”

“But in this case it would have been okay.” Maybe she was right, since none of us had been chosen for our expertise on the topics.  

I also got to be a panelist on “What Librarians Wish Readers and Writers Knew,” with Sarah Bresniker, John Graham, Leslie Blatt, and Michal Strutin.  This turned out to focus on three main topics: how to get books and book events into libraries, doing research in libraries, and coping with the recent attacks on libraries by conservative groups.  The question period turned into mostly passionate defenses of libraries from audience members.  One author said it was the most useful panel of the weekend. And being librarians we even created a webpage with useful resources to go with it.

Librarians Panel

Still on the subject of libraries, I did an Author Spotlight (one person blabbing for 20 minutes) on how we caught the guy who stole rare books from over 100 libraries.  I had good attendance which I attribute to creating posters (that is, 8x11 pages).  I left 20 on a freebies table, they were all picked up, and 15 people came.  That’s a good sell-through rate.

I attended two panels on short stories (three if you count the Anthony nominated anthologies panel, and four if you include Josh Pachter’s Spotlight about editing music-themed anthologies.)  

More highlights were two humor panels, one of which featured one of the best and rarest conference moments: the point at which all the panelists suddenly discover something together.  

An audience member had asked if any of the panelists used a sensitivity reader for their books.  All of them said no.  Then each of them got thoughtful and acknowledged:  “But when I write about a certain group, I ask my friend to read it…” Donna Anders summed it up: “We don’t call them sensitivity readers.  We call them people who know things.”  When I told my wife this she said “Volunteers are undervalued.”

Another highlight: there were more people of color than I have ever seen at a mystery event.  This may be in part because of the geography, but I’m sure some of it is due to Crime Writers of Color.  CWoC sponsored a reception called Underrepresented Voices and bragged that while they started with 30 members in 2018 they are now over 400.  That’s great.

As former president of the Short Mystery Fiction Society I had the honor of announcing the Derringer Award winners and giving out the medals and certificates to those present.  I was especially delighted to give Martin Edwards the Edward D. Hoch Memorial Golden Derringer Award for lifetime achievement.

One great point of any con is making new friends and meeting up with old ones.  I won’t try to name all the ones I shared a meal or a chat with, except to mention fellow SleuthSayers Michael Bracken, R.T. Lawton, Travis Richardson, and Barb Goffman.  I left Barb for last so I could single her for congratulations: she won a well-deserved Anthony Award for her short story “Beauty and the Beyotch.” Whoo-hoo!

Let me end with one more gathering of friends.  Jackie Sherbow, the managing editor of both Ellery Queen and Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazines, invited all of the Dell magazine writers present to join her poolside for a drink.  I won’t try to name them all but if you read AHMM and EQMM you would recognize the 20 or so names.  

I looked around and said: “Boy, if a bomb went off right now the face of mystery short fiction would be changed forever.”

Because, hey, that’s the way we think, isn’t it?

Join me here in two weeks for my favorite quotes from San Diego.

Oh, one more thing: I have a story on TOUGH which you can read for free.

AI, Caramba

 

by Peter Rozovsky

Can you stand one more story of AI oddities?  This one is a little different. 

A few months ago I put up a query on Facebook.  I will repeat it here because I am still looking for an answer:

Back in the early seventies I read a short story in a high school English class and I don't know the author or the title.  Any hints?  The narrator is an adult remembering his childhood.  He was a member of the best Boy Scout troop in a city. An ambitious young man (brother of the mayor, or something similar) decided the best way to get started in politics was to be the head of that troop. He tried to push the scoutmaster out and when that failed the authorities started an investigation of the scoutmaster for unspecified wrongdoing.  The young narrator was called before the inquiry panel and asked if the scoutmaster had ever mistreated him.  Eager to defend him, the boy said, no, he's very nice to us. He hugs us, etc.  Unknowingly, he gives them exactly the ammunition they need to falsely charge the man with being a pedophile.  

That's all I wrote on Facebook but I will reveal the ending here:

SPOILER ALERT:

After the hearing the scoutmaster  tells the boy "You told the truth and I'm proud of you."  Then he goes home and kills himself.

If anyone know the author and title of that story I would love to find out.

But back to the AI deal.  Someone on Facebook decided to ask Bard for help.  Bard is an experimental AI program from Google. They showed me the result and it was startling.  Bard found a story by a well-known author with the word "Boy Scout" in the title and it described a plot very much like the one I described.

I got quite excited.  Then I reached the ending and it was completely different than the one I remembered.  Huh?  Did I have it all wrong?  Were there two similar stories with different conclusions?

Not Bard

I finally realized what had happened.  Bard had attached a version of the story summary I wrote to an existing title and, since it didn't know the real ending, had made one up.  And claimed it was the real one.

So I went to Bard and asked it to find novels about a member of the mafia trying to save the environment.  Now, that is a logline for my novel Greenfellas.  Here is a reasonable summary of that book, written by me:

Sal Caetano is the consiglieri for a New Jersey Mafia family.  When he becomes a grandfather he decides to save the environment for his granddaughter, by any means necessary.  His mission puts him in conflict with other gangs, the FBI, politicians, ecoterrorists and, most dangerous of all, his own mob family.

This is what Bard came up with:

Sure, here is a novel about a member of the mafia trying to save the environment:

Greenfellas by Robert Lopresti

In this comic novel, a group of mobsters in New Jersey decide to start a new business: environmental protection. They call themselves the Greenfellas, and they use their mob connections to help clean up pollution and protect endangered species.

The Greenfellas are led by Vinnie "The Earthworm" Caputo, a former waste management executive who is now dedicated to saving the planet. He is joined by his crew, including "Big Al" the enforcer, "Little Pauly" the accountant, and "The Professor" the scientist.

 The Greenfellas soon find themselves in over their heads when they take on a corrupt developer who is trying to build a casino on a protected wetland. But they are determined to succeed, even if it means risking their lives.

Greenfellas is a funny and heartwarming novel that explores the unlikely relationship between the mafia and environmentalism. It is a story about redemption, friendship, and the power of one person to make a difference.

Bizarre, huh? Bard correctly identified my book as matching the request, and then made up a plot for it.  I can only hope that very few people, like my Facebook friend, try to use Bard as a source for information. 

It reminds me of the weird recent case of the lawyer who asked an AI  to write his brief. The lawyer was suspicious about the results so what did he do?  He  asked that same AI if the citations were accurate. It assured him they were. What could possibly go wrong?

I just asked Bard about ecoMafia novels again and this time it didn't find my book but produced a list of books that don't acually exist such as Mafia's Green Agenda by Michael Connelly (2013) and The Green Olive Conspiracy by Anthony Bruno (2012).  (I like that title.) I will not give you the plots.  

And now I'm going to go read something created by humans.

The Picture on Pratchett's Wall

I just finished reading Terry Pratchett: A Life With Footnotes: The Official Biography, by Rob Wilkins.  I have written about Pratchett before but I want to discuss one aspect of his life that shows up a lot in this book.

Sir Terry Pratchett (or STP, as his fans called him) was a bestselling British author of comic fantasy novels.  That description is selling him pretty cheap, since he has also been called the greatest satirist since Chaucer.

And "cheap" is sort of the point, because I want to talk about his relationship with money.  Pratchett was raised by working class parents (his father was an auto mechanic).  He got a job as a reporter for a small local newspaper and later moved to public relations for the nuclear power industry.

During this time he had started publishing novels. After several had appeared he decided, with great trepidation, to try writing full-time.  His publisher (who became his agent) said "His conclusion was that he thought he would see a dip in income in the short term, but then he would quite possibly be all right."

Which turned out to be understatement.  At one point he and Wilkins (personal assistant turned business manager and then offficial biographer) calculated that his novels were paying him ten pounds per word.  I assure you those of us who write mystery short stories do not make that much.

Pratchett seemed a bit obsessed with money, which is understandable because, besides providing for the necessities and luxuries of life, it was a way of keeping score.  For many years critics were not lining up to heap his work with praise and awards. After all, this couldn't be serious work.  The wrote about vampires, for heaven's sake.  And golems.  It took all those serious critics a while to catch onto the fact that  his vampires struggled with addiction problems and the golems were fighting for their civil rights. 

Why do I say he was obsessed with money?  Here is one of many examples.  At one point he created a book that was different from anything he had done before and he was so offended by the bids publishers made on it that he took the book off the market for many years.  What was wrong with the bids?  He felt they were too high.  He worried that whichever publisher released the book would lose money.

I diagnose a case of imposter's syndrome, a terrible fear that people might realize he was not as good as they thought.

Fortunately that never happened.  Pratchett  was even knighted for his "services to literature" although he maintained that his greatest service to literature was never trying to write any.

He was not shy about donating money, including a million pounds for Alzheimer's research after he was diagnosed with an early-onset variant.  (He lived with it for eight  years. and remarkably kept writing until near the end.)  Generally he gave money to organizations that were also finding money elsewhere.  "Pratchetts help those who help themselves."

He kept a photo on his office wall, one he got from W.H. Smith's, Britain's biggest bookstore chain. Was it a cozy picture of the front of one of their shops? No. Perhaps a candid snap of him signing books?  Sorry.

It was a photo of the company's book-pulping machine, where unloved volumes went to die.

It was, he said, a reminder to write better.  And he did.

The Search Committee

 

A few years ago I submitted a one-act play to a contest.  It didn't win so I ran it here.  This year I submitted again, being a glutton for punishment, and got the same result.  So here is the new play.

 

THE SEARCH COMMITTEE

 

___

Cast of Characters

Chris

Tracy

They can be any gender and any age, but should be of roughly the same age, so they are more likely to be partners than parent and child.

Scene

Interior.

Time

The present.

SETTING: On the stage are many cardboard boxes and, if convenient, a few cabinets with drawers and/or closed shelves.  Also a couple of stools for sitting when opening the boxes and cabinets.

 

CHRIS enters, frantic, followed immediately by TRACY.  Throughout the play they keep opening boxes and cabinets, turning boxes upside-down, etc.

 

CHRIS

It’s got to be here somewhere.

 

TRACY

I can’t believe you lost it.

 

CHRIS

Me?  Who says it was me?

 

TRACY

Well, it belongs to you.  God knows you won’t let anyone else touch it.

 

CHRIS

Like I would trust you with it.

 

TRACY

So what are you saying?  That I lost the damned thing?

 

CHRIS

Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed it.

 

TRACY

Well, sure.  You practically force it on people, you’re so damned vain about it.             

CHRIS

I most definitely am not vain.  I just believe in sharing my good fortune.

 

TRACY

That’s right.  Everywhere you go people say, “There’s Chris, the famous philanthropist.”

 

CHRIS

It’s better than what they say about you.

                                                                            TRACY

Excuse me?

                             

CHRIS

Never mind.

         

TRACY

What do they say about me?

    

CHRIS

Not important.  Keep looking.

 

TRACY

No.  You’ve got my interest up now.  Do tell me what the world is reporting.     

 

CHRIS

That you’re lucky to hang around with me.  But that you should to be more careful with my stuff.  Where the heck is it?

 

TRACY

Where was it the last time you saw it?

 

CHRIS

If I knew that I’d look there, wouldn’t I?

 

TRACY

Well, where were you standing the last time  you remember seeing it?

 

CHRIS

     pauses

Right over there.

 

CHRIS walks over and opens a box.  It’s empty.

 

CHRIS

Damn.

         

TRACY

And when exactly was that last time?    

 

CHRIS

It was a Tuesday in late February.  The church bells had just rung midnight.  A hot  wind was blowing across the Serengeti Desert.  How the hell am I supposed to remember?

 

TRACY

Well, since the thing is so damned precious to you I thought you might have fond memories of it.

    

CHRIS

Since I didn’t know I was about to lose it I didn’t bother to take a picture of it in its natural habitat for my scrapbook.  Look, if you were to put it away—

 

TRACY

Which I didn’t.

 

CHRIS

Humor me.  Where would you have put it?

 

TRACY

Oh.  Good question. 

looks around, then heads to one corner

Ah!  Over here!

 

CHRIS

Oh, give me strength. 

 

TRACY

What now?

         

          CHRIS

You’ve never put anything there in your life.  On the rare occasions when you do put something in its proper place – and let me say that that happens so infrequently that each one deserves a party to celebrate it – you never go over there.

    

TRACY

Like you would know about parties.

 

CHRIS

Excuse me?

 

TRACY

This is why no one ever invites you to any parties.  Because you make speeches like that.

 

CHRIS

I’ve been to more parties than you have lost wallets.

 

TRACY

What, have you lost your wallet too?

 

CHRIS

No, that’s your specialty. It’s why you have the credit card cancellation number on speed dial.  Damn and blast, where did it go?

 

TRACY

Take it easy.  We’ll figure this out.  It’s always in the last place you look.         

 

CHRIS

Don’t say that!

 

TRACY

What do you mean?

 

CHRIS

Of all the stupid cliches that has to be the worst.  Of course it’s in the last place you look.  Do you know why?

 

TRACY

I suppose because if you knew where it was—

 

          CHRIS

No! Because when you find it you stop looking!

 

TRACY

     pause

 Well, sure.

    

CHRIS

So why do people keep saying that gibberish as if it has great meaning?

 

TRACY

Because we’re all very stupid and live for the pleasure of annoying you.

 

CHRIS

You’re an idiot.

 

TRACY

And yet somehow you’re the one who lost your--

 

CHRIS

I didn’t lose it!  I think you did!

 

TRACY

We’ve already been over this.  I never touch the blasted thing.

 

CHRIS

Well, I’m glad to hear that.  Because you’re careless with your possessions.

 

TRACY

While you know where everything you own is.  Right?

 

CHRIS

Absolutely.

    

TRACY

You don’t even hear yourself, do you?

 

CHRIS

Look.  Stop everything. Tracy, look at me.

 

TRACY puts down a box and looks at CHRIS.  They are practically eye to eye.

 

CHRIS

Are you really  a hundred percent certain, absolutely, guaranteed, in your heart of hearts, that you couldn’t possibly have thrown it away by accident?

 

TRACY

dramatic pause

Yes.

 

CHRIS

furiously

How can you possibly claim to know that?

         

     TRACY

     talking over

If I couldn’t know why did you bother to ask?

         

     CHRIS

I can’t stand it.

 

TRACY

Want me to leave?

 

CHRIS

No!  Listen, Tracy, I do appreciate that you’re trying.

 

TRACY

Anytime I can help...

    

CHRIS

…Would be the first.

 

TRACY

Excuse me?  What did you say?

         

CHRIS

Woodby the First.  He was a famous king.  Some people don’t know their history.

 

TRACY

Some people are looking to get crowned.

 

TRACY starts looking in a different part of the stage.

 

CHRIS

Don’t.

 

TRACY

Don’t what?

 

CHRIS

Don’t bother looking over there.  I would never put it over there.

    

TRACY

You sure?

 

CHRIS

Absolutely.

 

TRACY

Absolutely, a hundred percent, guaranteed, in your cold little heart of hearts?

 

CHRIS

Just look somewhere else.

 

TRACY moves back.

         

CHRIS

Not there.  You already looked there.

         

TRACY

So let me be sure I am clear on this.  That’s the place you are likely to have left it, but I can’t look there because I already did.

 

CHRIS

Right.

 

TRACY

And I can’t look over there because you would never put it there.

 

CHRIS

Now you’ve got it.

         

TRACY

I’m running out of options.

 

CHRIS

I’m running out of patience.  Just keep hunting.

 

TRACY starts reaching around high in the air

 

CHRIS

What are you doing now?

 

TRACY

You’ve forbidden me from looking in the tangible places so I thought I’d try some imaginary ones.

 

CHRIS

You are an idiot.

 

TRACY

You’re repeating yourself.  Look, maybe it doesn’t even exist, have you thought of that?  In that case imaginary places would be the best place to search.

                        

          CHRIS

It’s real. You know it’s real.  Please, keep searching.

 

TRACY

I think we have long passed that point.  I think we have established beyond the laws of probability that your precious McGuffin, your ring of power, your veritable Maltese Falcon, has vanished forever and will no more—

 

TRACY is looking in yet another box.

 

TRACY

Well, fry me a banjo.

 

CHRIS

What?  Have you got it?

 

TRACY

Look!

 

TRACY pulls an object out of the box.  What it is hardly matters, except it should be large enough for the audience to see, and obviously one-of-a-kind.  I imagine a brightly colored hat with feathers and bangles.

 

CHRIS

You found it!  Thank you so much!  I’ve been looking—

 

CHRIS is holding it now.

 

CHRIS

This is the wrong one.

 

TRACY reacts.

 

CURTAIN