Some nights I have a dream that I'm back in a high school theatre production, wilting under the unforgiving offstage gaze of the director. It's not a rehearsal; this is the real thing, baby, and the people out there in those hideous blue-and-red seats want to be entertained. I've been thrown into the staging of a play completely unfamiliar to me. Most times, I don't even know the title, let alone what part I'm supposed to be playing or what my lines are or when to say them.
Occasionally, I'm able to somehow get my hands on a copy of the script and consult it furtively, but then I become aware of the fact that my grasp of the English language is deficient. The words blur on the page, mocking me in their obscuring dance, and when they do come together they are inconsistent: characters' names change in the course of a page, dialogue morphs into nonsense words. I notice an expectant pause from the other actors, deduce that I'm expected to utter a line, and thus take a breath, strike a dignified pose and say something like "Zebra poop considering darling shoe I pierogy poop poop!" The audience recoils in horror, and I wake up terrified and ashamed.
Conversation in real life often feels like this, doesn't it? I imagine that there are those of you who can commiserate when I say that I have conversational skills that are somewhat lacking. You can admit it, too; it doesn't make you any less of a person. Maybe you aren't communicating with phrases like "Zebra poop," but doesn't it sometimes sound like equally garbled language is coming from your mouth when you speak? This, even when what you plan to say sounds perfectly lucid and rational in your head beforehand. For some of us, the act of talking to people is no hayride. The uncertainty, the long pauses, the accidental interruptions! Oh, the verbal hell!
However, when I work on my novel, a miraculous thing happens, and I witness the exact opposite of reality. Wonder of sacred wonders, the characters I've created can actually speak to each other and sound coherent. I'm controlling both sides of their conversations, so one spoken thought can lead to the next with fluidity and grace. It's a perfect machine, one logical word after another. I am the guiding force behind the characters and their words, and thus each conversation is unified for whatever purpose it is meant to carry. Efficient, clear, direct -- a linguistic utopia.
I have an idea, therefore. It may sound crazy, but just bear with me. This is the roar of an imminent cultural wave. I have seen the rage of the future, and it is pre-fab conversations!
No, no -- don't walk away just yet. I promise to be brief. What do you think of the concept of conversations created before they're spoken? Don't we deserve to be as smooth as characters in a book when we talk to each other? No more of this mumbling, of these hesitant silences, of half-finished sentences! I propose that at least our important dialogues be planned out before carried out, rather than stuttered willy-nilly, as is the current fashion. I can help -- for a small fee, of course. (State and local tax may also apply.) I'll write your conversations before you have them.
Just think of how much more confident you and your fellow conversation-makers will feel when you've got a guide to what to say. This is an example of you before my verbal assistance.
YOU: Uh, excuse me, Mr., uh -- J -- well, I just ...
BOSS: What do, is there something that you, can
YOU: I was won -- um, would I be a-able to
BOSS: I'm really very
YOU: Okay, well, uh, goodbye.
I hope you don't take offense, but that's simply pathetic. What were you trying to say to your boss? What was he saying to you? Did either of you finish a complete thought?
Now, imagine the same topic of conversation after I've written an articulate dialogue for you and your boss. It might go something like this.
YOU: Mr. Jenkins, I have come to argue in favor of you awarding me a raise.
BOSS: I am afraid I cannot allow such a thing to occur.
YOU: And whysoever not, my good man?
BOSS: That would be nepotism.
YOU: No! You jest!
BOSS: I am your father.
Of course, some embellishment will have been added in order to preserve the aesthetic integrity of the conversation. But, as you can see, the basic points are the same. Both participants sound appropriately erudite and reasonable. It's the kind of conversation that makes people weep when they overhear it, and not tears of sorrow. They are tears of joy, friend.
Picture the myriad possibilities for intelligent and artful discourse. For only a diminutive monetary charge, you and others will have the potential to speak the words that will tilt the earth. Ah, the moments of emotional revelation that await you! The civilization-inspiring philosophical exchanges that are yet to come! Just turn to me for a speaking role in the drama of future history. And please, no personal checks.
