Petaluma Majestic
"Fade in: dark bedroom, man sitting in front of a computer screen, monitor glo-"
"Why's it always gotta be fading?"
"I don't know. It's traditional. I'm just being hypothetical anyway. It's not like I'd ever actually write it that way."
"And the dark bedroom/green monitor glow thingy is way overdone anyway."
"Fine. We'll jump in quickly. Right after the production companies get done with their logos, there will be a moment of black, just long enough to make you wonder if the movie's properly queued to start and then BAM, the scene snaps in with a click-hum sound, like turning on an old CRT. Maybe the image will wobble a little. Brightly lit bedroom, well-kept, but lived-in."
"See, now that could work. Ties in with the whole theme of the whole world being manipulated by the controls in the game. Makes a connection between the reality and the computer."
"Right, that's good. We should do more of that. Futz with the pictures and the colors at key moments. Like when he hits the apply 'button.'"
"Not too obvious, though. It should be transparent...it should seem like it's not part of the movie, just a wobble of the CRT, or a color imbalance."
"That would look kind of weird on the big screen, though. Maybe it should be more like a projector wobble, or a sound-sync problem."
"You really think we could get a big enough distribution to put it on the big screen?"
"Of course not. It's not like we're ever going to finish writing it anyway."
"Bah, I think we could do it. Just a small, independent production. Keep the special effects to a minimum...things we could do on my computer. I know plenty of acting students."
"We could make two versions. One for the big screen and one for video."
"That might be a bit more than we can handle."
"If we even get started."
"Right."
"Yeah."
"So are you going to buy it or not?"
"Of course not. Way too angsty. The name of the song just sounded like it would make a good movie title."
Alvin Stone put the CD back in the bargain bin. He had wavy black hair, pulled back into a messy ponytail and was almost overweight. He was 26 years old.
Alvin's good friend Christian Schumacher stood a few paces away. Christian was a few inches shorter than Alvin's 5'11", but he was much thinner. He kept his black hair short and parted to the left. His shoe size was nine and a half.
The song in question was titled "Plain Distorted Reality" and was performed by The Monkey Monks on the album _M_.
Christian turned away from the rack of musicals and soundtracks to look at Alvin. He said, "You really should think about actually writing it. It's a good idea."
Alvin didn't look up from the bargain bin when he said, "It'd never get off the ground. They never do."
"Of course they don't," said Christian. "You never give them a chance." When he got no reply from Alvin, he added, "Maybe just a short film. We don't even have to film it. Just get it down on paper."
"Chris, I've never actually finished a full screenplay and you know it." Alvin was no longer looking through the bargain bin.
"This is as good a time as any to get started." The floor in the used CD store had a pattern of black and white tiles. It reminded Christian of a bathroom. "I'll tell you what. If you write that screenplay, I'll finish my gnome story and try to get it published."
The tile floor reminded Alvin of the sign at an Italian Deli near where his father lived. "Whatever happened to the one about the hermit? Why didn't you try to get that one published?"
When Alvin finally turned around, Christian said, "I'm not done with it yet."
"Didn't you finish it for your creative writing class?"
"Yes, but I need to clean it up a bit. There's a few things that need changing." The title of Christian's story about the hermit was "Between Tuesday and Tomorrow."
Alvin had a dentist's appointment coming up on the following Tuesday. "Changing? Like what?"
"The ending seems to come out of nowhere. It's not the ending I'd originally intended." Christian started walking towards the world music shelves. "I want to make the narrative flow better, so that it's more jarring when he pops out time at the end of the story."
Alvin thought the world music genre was ill defined and that the songs were mostly unlistenable. He said, "That's not exactly a small change. You're never going to finish if you keep rewriting the same story over and over again."
"That's why I'm putting it aside for now. I need to let the ideas percolate a little before I try to rewrite it." Christian's story about gnomes didn't have any gnomes in it.
"You'll never get published at this rate." Alvin picked up a CD with an interesting cover.
"I know. I just need to force myself to do it. To sit down and completely finish a story. I always think about them too much before writing anything, and then I end up changing everything or never actually putting any words down." There was a missing tile on the floor, just to the left of Christian's right foot. He continued, "And the same is true for you. There's nothing keeping you from being a screenwriter. You just have to do it."
"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know there's no one else to blame besides me? Of course the solution is simple. Just do it. I know that. I know that, and I've always known that, but do I do it? Never. There are so many dead projects lying in my wake that it scares me. Every single one of them started out the exact same way. I think this time is going to be different. I've got the motivation, and I'm just going to barrel through the tough parts. And every single stupid time, I end up with absolutely nothing. You know how many times you can do that before you stop believing yourself? Until you're twenty-six years old; that's how many. I can't make myself believe that I'll finish it anymore." The cover of the album in Alvin's hand had a picture of a Lego Minifig wearing a dominatrix outfit and carrying a riding crop.
"So that's it? You give up?" said Christian.
"I don't know anymore. Something has to be different. I can't just do it the old way anymore because I know that I won't finish. Something has to change." Alvin's father liked watching reruns of Seinfeld because he never watched the show when it was on the air.
Christian's father only watched crime dramas, much to the dismay of Christian's mother. "I know how you feel. That's why I'm making a go at it this time, with this new story. I'm sick of it, and if I ever want my plans to go through, I can't let a stupid unfinished story defeat me."
"You're still thinking about leaving town? Moving to Petaluma?" asked Alvin.
"Of course," replied Christian. "Never stopped planning on it. When I've got enough money, I'm going to buy a house out there."
Petaluma is about an hour north of San Francisco.
Alvin waited a few seconds before deciding to say, "Have you considered that you might never have enough money?"
Looking at his friend, Christian caught a glimpse of the Lego dominatrix on the album cover. It reminded him of a teacher he'd once had. "Yes, that is a possibility. But I need something to strive for. That house is my motivation. That's why I'm not going to let myself despair over past failures."
"I'm afraid some town in California's not enough to motivate me anymore. I need something stronger." Alvin's father could bench 150 pounds.
The teacher that Christian had been reminded of was named Mrs. Strunk, and she taught his fifth grade class. "You'll find your Petaluma, eventually."
Alvin stopped and said, "You should write a story about Petaluma."
"I don't think I know enough about it to write a proper story."
"No, that's not what I meant. Not about the real Petaluma. About the Petaluma in your mind. The one that keeps you going."
"Like sort of a Shangri La or El Dorado?"
"Yeah."
"It would be a fantastical version of the real place. Giant oak trees, old soda shops...he starts dreaming about the place and almost living out a second life in his sleep there..."
"Maybe he's never even been there. He's just seen a photograph."
"I've been there twice, actually."
"Yeah, but it makes for a better story that way."
"Sure, why not. And his life can be really nasty...everything that's wrong with his life is perfect in the dream Petaluma. Ooh, I could do some nice metaphor with the sturdy, permanent oak trees and draw a contrast with the nebulousness of his daily life."
"Does he actually travel there, or are the dreams just dreams?"
"I'm not really sure. I'll figure that out when I get there."