"There are 24 beers in a case and 24 hours in a day. Coincidence? I think not." -Dad*
So, I've been editing and re-writing Avoiding Sex with Frenchmen, (which is a serial I wrote here on the blog, but am now putting into book form), and I noticed something interesting: it was exactly 117 pages long. 117, you may recall, was the number of Frenchmen who propositioned us in France. And then I got this moment of inspiration: What if every page had a Frenchman on it?
And what if the picture was just a little thing, where the page number was? What if the drawing of the Frenchman was the page number?
It would solve a little problem I had with the feeling of the story, which was that you didn't really get the sense, reading it, that men were constantly paying us lots of attention. I think, when you read it as written, you sort of forget about these guys. While we weren't terrified or anything, Ludmilla, Zgjenyue and I were always at least a little bit aware of men watching us. They were always there. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Or a good thing. It just was. We had no idea what to make of it.
Anything I did to make you feel the presence of all of these men would seem to be this feminist statement. If you want to take it as such, I don't mind, but I'm just putting it out there: this is what happened. And we enjoyed our trip, for the most part. If I had Frenchmen interrupting the flow of writing all of the time, announcing their presence there, it would be like hitting you, the reader, over the head with Frenchmen, and I do not want to do that. I accept that things are different in France. They have different customs there, and that's how it is, when you travel to other countries. People are different. That's pretty much why we go, isn't it?
So, I'm thinking, this idea about just having a little drawing of a Frenchman on each page, a tiny drawing in the corner? That kind of works for me. They'll stay in your consciousness, that way. The reader will understand that they were always there, but they aren't hitting you over the head. At least, that is my hope.
I can't remember what they all looked like, of course. I think I remember they were all between seventeen and forty-five years old, and they were all white. And I feel like they all had brown hair. Is that possible? Well, it doesn't matter. I'll just draw Frenchmen. They all look like this:
I do remember a few things that they were doing, if not how they really looked. Like, there was definitely a dude walking his baby:
And then I wonder, should I make the men seem a little bit sleazy? Because, really, asking to have sex with someone you don't know is kind of sleazy- at least where I'm from, it is.
Of course, when I make it into an e-book, it will all be screwed up. E-books are not the same number of pages as paper books. I guess I could put a disclaimer at the beginning:
*I hate to give you the wrong impression. I'm sure I've never seen my dad drink more than 23 beers in one day.
So, I've been editing and re-writing Avoiding Sex with Frenchmen, (which is a serial I wrote here on the blog, but am now putting into book form), and I noticed something interesting: it was exactly 117 pages long. 117, you may recall, was the number of Frenchmen who propositioned us in France. And then I got this moment of inspiration: What if every page had a Frenchman on it?
And what if the picture was just a little thing, where the page number was? What if the drawing of the Frenchman was the page number?
It would solve a little problem I had with the feeling of the story, which was that you didn't really get the sense, reading it, that men were constantly paying us lots of attention. I think, when you read it as written, you sort of forget about these guys. While we weren't terrified or anything, Ludmilla, Zgjenyue and I were always at least a little bit aware of men watching us. They were always there. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Or a good thing. It just was. We had no idea what to make of it.
Anything I did to make you feel the presence of all of these men would seem to be this feminist statement. If you want to take it as such, I don't mind, but I'm just putting it out there: this is what happened. And we enjoyed our trip, for the most part. If I had Frenchmen interrupting the flow of writing all of the time, announcing their presence there, it would be like hitting you, the reader, over the head with Frenchmen, and I do not want to do that. I accept that things are different in France. They have different customs there, and that's how it is, when you travel to other countries. People are different. That's pretty much why we go, isn't it?
So, I'm thinking, this idea about just having a little drawing of a Frenchman on each page, a tiny drawing in the corner? That kind of works for me. They'll stay in your consciousness, that way. The reader will understand that they were always there, but they aren't hitting you over the head. At least, that is my hope.
I can't remember what they all looked like, of course. I think I remember they were all between seventeen and forty-five years old, and they were all white. And I feel like they all had brown hair. Is that possible? Well, it doesn't matter. I'll just draw Frenchmen. They all look like this:
 |
| Every man in France looks exactly like this, right? |
I do remember a few things that they were doing, if not how they really looked. Like, there was definitely a dude walking his baby:
 |
| And he seemed so wholesome! |
And then I wonder, should I make the men seem a little bit sleazy? Because, really, asking to have sex with someone you don't know is kind of sleazy- at least where I'm from, it is.
 |
| Strangely, they all had page numbers tattooed on their faces, as though someone were trying to tell me something... |
Of course, when I make it into an e-book, it will all be screwed up. E-books are not the same number of pages as paper books. I guess I could put a disclaimer at the beginning:
*I hate to give you the wrong impression. I'm sure I've never seen my dad drink more than 23 beers in one day.
I suspected that most Frenchmen looked alike. You have confirmed my suspicions. I think you conveyed pretty well that while they were always present they were more like a background of white noise. Barely noticeable, but ever present.
ReplyDeleteHappy...Saturday and weekend.
ReplyDeleteThat's a fabulous book title too.
You're most fun! Thanks for finding me in blogland.
I just read a book of your poetry! "Just the Right Time". Very cool.
DeleteGet old, like me, and they leave you alone except to offer you a ring they just found on the sidewalk, a GOLD ring, Madame! Isn't it yours???
ReplyDelete(and for a price, it can be, he adds.)
The book takes place 22 years ago, so it probably would be quite different for me, today! There are a lot if swindlers, out there, to be sure.
DeleteI love love love your drawings and adore the idea of you putting on on each page. Very cool!
ReplyDeleteAll right! That was just the kind of definitive feedback I needed! I'm doing it. :) Thank you!
DeleteA uniquely creative resolution of your 'problem' ! My neighbor wrote a novel about a family hiking the John Muir trail...it is 214 pages long - the length of the trail in miles! He claims it wasn't planned.
ReplyDeleteThat is so weird! Maybe fifteen years or so ago, I went through this stage where I was obsessed with numerical coincidences, convinced there was some sort of MEANING behind them. But then I finally read up on the likelihood of these coincidences, and actually, statistically, everything pretty much checks out. But every now and then... 214 pages. Wow. What is the title? Is it available? Any good?
Delete"Brandon's Trail" by Marvin Sosna. You'll find my review on Amazon. He just published a book of poetry too which I haven't yet seen. I watched a play that he wrote a few years ago about family dynamics with emphasis on women's issues. It played at The Little Theater in San Luis Obispo. A talented man, retired newspaper editor. Czech him out! :)
Delete