Ahem. I assure you that, as an introduction, that one applies mostly to the previous “narrator” and not to myself. And frankly, while I wouldn’t want it to get around, I’m a bit offended that they let such an unobservant fellow into the narrator’s role, even as a mere meta-narrator. Disgraceful conduct and not even clever. Someone should do something, really they should. Shouldn’t they.
Now, where was I? Ah, did that, won’t do that, like that, but let’s save it for later… So, there’s this bit, this bit and… Yes.
Well then, our exposition, story, narrative, what have you, needs a beginning. Now, one might think the beginning has necessarily begun as we are well into the filling of the page, but let me assure you, it most assuredly has not. These things need structure and precision, and without proper beginnings they are just so much twiddle and twaddle. So you begin to see my role. I am here as a gentle and kind moderator of truth and stylistic integrity. I shall bring morality to this little exercise and gently and lovingly keep all on the side of propriety. In other words, I am the path and all shall follow my direction lest they stray into the deep, dark, fearsome and inevitably soul-destroying woods. And no one would want that. Would they.
So, shall we discuss some rules? For while I embrace freedom and liberty, open-mindedness and the inevitable triumph of truth and forthrightness, I do think we need a bushel or so of carrots and perhaps a cord or three of sticks to help things along the way. I’ve heard of characters and plots and such that eschew such things as frivolous, but we all know a bit of the social grease is necessary if we’re to get along. Don’t we.
Then to begin with. No foreign languages. I find them pretentious and exclusionary. While Mr. Pound may be in the business of deciding who is and who is not worthy, I prefer to leave that to the good graces of the audience. And speaking of that, the correct use of capitalization. While I recognize the contribution of the cummings and goings, I don’t find the pretension worth the Nichol. Oh, and as for bad jokes, weak referential humour and even worse writing, well I’m afraid that’s just the price we must be willing to pay. Mustn’t we.
Comedy is excess. Deus ex machina is in, happy endings are a positive thing, references to human suffering, poverty and the unbearable are to be kept in check, and there will be absolutely no aliens. None. We all agree -isms and -ists are out except as foils, there will be no philosophies, theories or epiphanies, and pontificating, erudition, proselytizing, and/or use of the soapbox will be held to be ridiculous, fantastic or simply misplaced and misinformed. Unless, of course they fall under the Narrator’s purview, because we all understand there must be some authority. Don’t we.
And now we must set the scene. I have a small basket of odds and ends here. Let me see… Poops like a bunny? Oh-Grrr the Ogre? Why Dragons breathe like anyone else? Or maybe a retelling of Shakespeare’s greatest tales from the point of view of a space-traveling, rock-climbing dirtbagger with literary aspirations?