I mean what if you were a good solid character actor who regularly got parts in B movies and CSIs and whatnot. Wouldn’t it be weird to be sitting on the couch and flipping through the channels and just stumble upon yourself every other night?
In April 2001, I thought aloud about the kind of book I would write if I was the last person on earth, i.e., writing for no one but myself, and decided it would be sort of dumb and silly:
A slaphappy comic book, overcreative sexual encounters constantly interrupting the hackneyed plot, maybe a thin, stringy stew of, I dunno, Romancing the Stone and Your Code Name Is Jonah, space stations with blades and sails, glass fortresses in the desert, wisecracks, crowded with characters, always talking talking, pages of unattributed dialogue and then pages of undiscussed action and then everyone there at an epilogue, shaking hands, laughing in mild embarrassment, forgiving old grudges while still laying the groundwork for future installments.
It just occurred to me that this is about a 75% accurate description of the novel I’ve been writing for the past few years.
Sure, the slang in Juno made me want to claw out the part of my brain that provides comprehension of language, but that’s because it was cutesy and smug, not because people don’t talk that way. That seems to be a common complaint leveled against it: OMG that is NOT how the kids talk today! No one would ever really say that!
Well yeah, obviously. You think people during the Prohibition actually talked like they did in Miller’s Crossing? Or people in the 1870s threw down lines like the ones in Deadwood? This is stylized dialogue. It’s not meant to be realistic, it’s meant to be AWESOME.