The author was uncertain how he achieved his task. There were so many methods his teachers and other authors told him. Some of them insisted they were all necessary. But the author simply sat at the keyboard and typed. Sometimes he dreamed and fashioned the dream into a story but in the end, he still just sat and typed.
After several years as a published author Juan Kodopolis found himself in a classroom at Princeton University. In the classroom, there were diagrams, huge things, with brackets, parentheses, arrows, circles and more, spread across an entire chalkboard. Juan asked the student sitting next to him. “Is this really an english class or did I stumble into advanced algebra?”
The student next to him laughed while another with furrowed eyebrows and a stern visage replied. “You don’t belong here. Why don’t you go to some junior college somewhere and leave this to your betters.”
‘To my betters’ thought the author. ‘Maybe I should. I really don’t belong among these personages.’He had no idea how much the clothes they wore cost. He’d heard of the brands and each pair of jeans or tee shirt were probably more money than he spent on clothes in a year. With that the author murmured he was sorry, picked up his books, and headed for the door.
From the edge of the chalk board a voice rang out. “Where are you going Mr. Kodopolis?”
Juan Kodopolis replied. “The young lady noted that if I didn’t understand your diagrams, I don’t belong here. I can see I don’t really fit among theses personages.”
The Professor nodded. “And yet Mr. Kodopolis you are here. Sit down please.”
Juan Kadopolis arched his eyebrow at the professor and looked at the class of students now sitting at the edge of their seats with interest. He began to take a step. In truth he’d only moved his thigh muscle, but the Professor must have noticed. “No, Mr. Kadopolis that was the wrong tone. Please have a seat.”
Juan was uncomfortable but had been taught teachers were important and should be respected. He sighed and resigned himself to further difficulty as he sat in the small desk.
The Professor thought. ‘How very interesting this will be.’ “Mr. Kadopolis, why did you refer to everyone as personages?”
Juan raised both eyebrows in surprise and considered whether to answer the question. Staring into the searching eyes of the Professor, Juan could see he must have a purpose for the question. So, he answered. “This is a prestigious institution. I was surprised when I was invited, so it occurred to me most of the students are from wealthy and well-regarded families. Except of course, that one.” Juan pointed at a self assured young man sitting apart behind the other students. “And that one.” Everyone turned to see a large scowling man.
The professor nodded. “Please do go on Mr. Kadopolis.”
The Professor was known for eviscerating people who lackadaisically attended his classes. The students began to smile in anticipation.
Juan’s cheeks flushed and he shrunk in on himself. Still, the Professor must have a reason and there was the dream. “Very well. The young lady who told me I don’t belong here is the child of a powerful executive. She feels perfectly at ease dismissing others based on her observations of her father who frequently dismissed those he found to be of lower station. These two are both the children of diplomats. One shows it in her quick attention to this occurrence and careful balancing act on where to settle. The other shows it in his rebellion of his diplomatic parents. Yet he exercises a practiced nonchalance while still balancing each issue carefully and committing to nothing. These three are socialites with social media followings and they’re from old wealth. This is obvious through an examination of posture, chin elevation and the very precise movement of their hands. Precise and yet perfectly natural. That’s learned from the moment of birth. This young lady over here is a social media magnate paying her own way but pretending to be an old family socialite. Her posture is too perfect thus indicating an unnatural approach that’s only achieved through strong discipline. Her hands slip every now and then and become overly expressive. The young man in the back is a second son in an organized crime family. The gentleman standing in the back is his bodyguard as are the two in front of him attempting to pass as students. Of the remaining seven, five are from prominent families but have yet to develop leadership skills. They follow the three socialites as their entourage. The remaining two are scholarship students but the social media magnate pays them in designer clothes and allowances to be an entourage that participates in her business. She earns several million a year. I can tell that because she has the most expensive clothing, yet the clothes are not lived in. There are no small creases or wrinkles anywhere.”
Juan looked up. “These are my observations, but you know this is not what I do.”
The Professor smiled. “I know. Class, meet Juan Kadopolis though you may know him better under his nom de plume as best-selling author George Carmen. This class is called writing award winning fiction. We asked Mr. Kadopolis to interact with our class, and he asked if he might attend the class as part of a Doctorate of Letters the University has offered him. Mr. Kadopolis asked Princeton to formalize a series of structured classes so it can be accredited.
The Professor began drawing huge Xs through the entire sentence structure diagrams. He looked up. “If we were in an English grammar or editing class, I’d leave those on the board and expect you to correct the few mistakes intentionally placed in the diagrams. But we’re in an award-winning fiction class. Mr. Kadopolis how do you handle sentences?”
Juan nodded. “Mostly I try to use a noun and a verb with just a few adverbs. I generally save adjectives for descriptive text. Now mind you, I seldom achieve that, but that’s my goal. Mostly I write in complete sentences but sometimes I use fragments. When people are poorly educated, or incredibly agitated they sometimes think in fragments. Like “Oh my God, so hot.” When thoughts are moving quickly, linking verbs are often assumed. So, mostly just basic sentences. Professional reviewers often criticize my grammar not realizing these poor choices are hard fought to be accepted by the publisher’s editor. Apparently they’ve never met a publishing house editor. Publisher’s editors excuse nothing. You must defend every intentional poor grammar choice.
The Professor pursed his lips. “Tell them how you write a story.”
Juan replied. “Well, I just sit down and start typing. The story unfolds as I type. I can’t say I understand it. It’s just what I do.”
The Professor addressed the class “That’s one way of doing it. Many people outline their stories first and others write various parts of the story and reconstruct it later. However, may I suggest, if you find yourself with writer’s block, try just typing and see what happens.”
Juan raised his hand. “Thank you. I should add that sometimes, as in my current novel, I follow a dream I’ve had.”
The Professor’s eyebrow arched as he smiled. “Could you share it with us?”
Juan sat still a moment. “Yes, I’d like that and well, the dream instructed me to do so. It was a very a very strange dream. Basically, I found myself writing a story about a young man who achieves some success as a convenience store franchisee, owning several stores. He has begun a family but with success he begins dabbling with drugs. That draws the attention of a local gang. The man loses everything, becomes destitute and dies. …”
The Professor interrupted. That’s sounds incredibly boring. How would you actually write it?
Juan said. “But there’s more. The good part is yet to come.”
The Professor nodded. “Yes, we’ll get to that. How do you make this part interesting?”
“Oh” Juan replied. “Like I said before, I just start typing. But first, I’m sure you’ve all heard the expression show don’t tell. I’ve never understood that. They’re written novels, not graphic novels. It’s all telling. I’m a storyteller, not a story shower. Showing is for illustrators and graphic novelist. They show you by drawing pictures. The important part about story telling is how you tell it. In this story, since the convenience store owner’s childhood isn’t the meat of the story, I’ll begin late into our characters life. Like this …” Juan began to write.
***
The paper on the desk was rumpled and flooded with numbers. Jack was more exasperated than normal. He hated meeting with his accountant it was always a jumble of numbers that got entered, recentered and journaled from here to there. Making the deals and working with people was easy. This, this was impossible. “What the hell does all this mean? I know each store is profitable because I compare what I spend with what I earn. But this adds up to 0.”
The accountant sighed. “Jack it’s a balance sheet. Everything has to balance. There are assets and liabilities, and they must equal. It’s a financial statement for the banks. You keep making sure you earn more than you spend and you’re good to go.” After that Jack threw a large party. Success was wonderful.
The crystals were cloudy this time. Jack wasn’t sure if that represented a reduction in quality, but he supposed he’d find out if he could stop his hand from shaking, at least long enough to melt them. The needle was nearby and ready to go. If he could just stop shaking. He’d waited too long between doses this time but somehow the intervals kept getting shorter and the product kept getting more expensive. When the shaking didn’t stop, he reluctantly asked Cherry to roll a joint. He considered asking her to prep the crystals, but he still needed to stop shaking to so he could inject himself.
She was a beauty this girl. Thirty-eight, twenty-five, thirty-six. Damn near perfect. The curves were something to behold. Well, she had been a beauty when he’d met her five years ago. She’d been a little heavy about six years ago and started taking an off the market weight loss medication That trimmed her down and brought out her curves. To keep the medication rolling she’d become a high-end call girl. That’s how Jack met her. He was celebrating the opening of two new stores and a buddy of his hired her to celebrate with him. She had dirty blond curly hair, bright blue eyes and porcelain skin. Absolutely the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her pimp wasn’t too hot on him taking her but screw that guy. Jack hired a little protection and scared him off. As long as he provided the crystal, Cherry would do anything, anything.
Jack was a bit overweight when he met Cherry, so he tried her medicine. The new energy he felt was amazing. Jack hit the gym and was quickly in the best shape of his life. Even better than his football days. Six pack abs, broad shoulders, deep pectoral muscles across his chest and powerful legs were the result of a year with these crystals. With the extra energy he’d opened another two convenience stores and hidden the cost as a dietary aid. All he had to do was change the numbers on a few receipts and they rolled right by his accountant. Good to go. Between his wife’s admiration for his new body and Cherry, sex was great.
That was then. Since then, he’d lost the two convenience stores plus a few more. Thrown in the mix, he’d let his temper get the best of him and assaulted his kid’s soccer coach. That led to the divorce. The divorce led to a loss of two more convenience stores and then his wife demanded he give her three stores as part of the divorce settlement. Her three stores were doing great. His remaining two stores were doing okay. But hiding the cost of the crystals became more difficult.
Jack looked toward his beauty. “Thanks Cherry. Let’s get this crystal prepped and get a dose. They finished up and Cherry took care of Jack. As he looked at her, the porcelain skin had gone. She had fine wrinkles now and even dry checkered skin across her décolletage. Her hips had narrowed, and her bosom sagged noticeably. He was going to need to buy her a new wardrobe. Her clothes were hanging off her. Still, the things she could do were amazing. Though as he thought about it, over the last year she became removed and mechanical.
Jack put his shirt on and realized it was hanging loose. He’d lost the powerful chest and legs but retained his six-pack abs. Actually, an eight pack now. His six-foot two-inch frame looked a bit narrow, and his own skin seemed drawn in around the eyes. His skin looked sallow. Oh well, he had to get going he’d lost his temper with one of the morning clerks and the guy quit. He needed to stand in for him. Maybe after ten when the morning rush died, he could look over the books. He’d neglected that for months. Of course, he could run the stores in his sleep, so he wasn’t too worried about profits.
After a slower than he remembered morning rush, Jack had a look at his books. He just tracked expenses and earnings. He left everything else to his high dollar accountant. Business had dropped by half. Jack got up and walked through the store. His new clerk was playing solitaire. That’s when he really looked at the store. The floors were dirty. Two lights were out and one of the refrigerator cases was broken. Stock was missing throughout the store, and several popular brands of cigarettes were out. The coffee was like tar. He’d told this kid twice to make fresh coffee. That’s when the local tough guy walked in.
Jack shook his head. “There’s nothing for you here. You don’t get out and I’ll give Jake a call. I’d throw your scrawny ass out myself, but I don’t need the problems. You know Jake’ll take care of it.”
The local tough looked Jack in the eyes. “You haven’t been keeping up Jack. Jake died last week, cancer. He’s been looking worse for ware for months. I didn’t move in earlier out of respect for Jake. Could’ve trampled him six months ago when I found out about the cancer. Now it’s time you paid up. Plus, this place looks like shit. You get this place squared away. Fifteen percent of gross is the deal. Fifteen percent of nothing is nothing. So, make sure my fifteen percent is worth something. Today we’ll need ten thousand to keep things good between us. Then fifteen percent once a week. Have the books available for review. Oh, you go trying to hire another Jake, it’ll cost you more than you’ll be paying me. I done put the word out, your mine.”
Jack started around the bar when the tough pulled out a set of brass knuckles and started laughing. “Jack, I’ve got a nine mill that will easily take care of you, but these knuckles will be more enjoyable. Now before you go acting all tough, have you looked in the mirror lately. I mean, really looked. Your tough guy days have been over a while now. That crystal you buy from my boys, that’ll put an end to any tough guy. It’s like cancer except you’re stupid enough to buy it.”
***
Juan Kadopolis stopped. “So, that’s how it starts. I’ll probably go back in and add a bit more description of the stores. The story is the collapse of Jack’s life. In the dream, as I was writing this sad story and I thought, it’s too sad Im going to write something else. Then in the dream I heard the voice of God. He told me to leave the story as it was. He held the keys to death and hell. His redemptive power is not limited to earth. That I should write the story but then study these situations and see how He brings goodness from every sad story. It is God’s redemptive power that confounds and infuriates the dark powers. They are unable to stop God from redeeming people, whether that redemption occurs in this life or at the point of death moving toward the next. God revealed to me in that dream, what I told each of you about yourselves. As a writer I’m very observant but usually in generalities, not specifics. I get the impression the specifics I told you were accurate. And” Juan pointed to the crime boss’ son. “Young man, even your family is not beyond redemption. God said to tell you, some are criminals by choice, some by circumstance. There is a distinction, but even so, none are beyond His redemptive power. It requires only two things. Acceptance of God’s sovereignty and humbly asking for mercy. Some will enter God’s kingdom at the final point of their life. Ask for mercy young man and tell your father the same.”
“So, Professor, that’s all I have to say. I look forward to what you have to teach us. I’m always eager to improve my craft and you have a stellar reputation as a writer. I’ll leave it to the class to sleuth out your nom de plume.”
Joey Feller 