Friday, June 25, 2010

Jess & Pam

I, me, Genevieve, that chick who answers the phones, have been sticking to my writing schedule. I know, I know, it's crazy. And I feel fucking awesome. I LOVE it. What I am writing has no structure, has no plot at this point, it's just stuff about Michael, Betsy, Betsy's sister Jess, and Jess's friend Pam. I love these people. Michael and Betsy you've met. Jess and Pam are two single moms who live next door to each other. To get an idea of what they are like, here is a sampling of them talking to their neighbor Lindsey.

Lindsey, a middle aged woman in tight workout clothes, tennis shoes, makeup and jewelry, has stopped by to talked to Jess at her garage sale, but not to buy anything which is what Jess really needs her to do because her electricity bill is overdue and if she doesn't pay it in four days it will be shut off. And her ex-husband is late on childsupport. So she's really hoping that Lindsey will buy something that was his, like the table saw or the free weights or the juicer. But instead Lindsey is asking her about Greg, her ex, and how he's holding up, which is the last thing she wants to talk about.

Lindsey shakes her head when Jess tells her that Greg has had his own apartment for five months now. "I am just so sorry you two split up. You were so happy when you moved onto the block."
Jess nodds, definitely not wanting to talk about happiness. She picks up the juicer off of the folding table hoping that Lindsey will notice it and will suddenly need to buy it. But instead she makes it worse by saying, "How are the kids?"
"Lindsey! Jess!" says Pam, walking across the yard with a glass of orange juice in her hands. She's wearing jean shorts and a blue tank top with her hair pulled back. Pam and her daughter Alex are always dressed like they're ready to climb trees. She sips and says, "What's goin' on with my bitches?"
Jess smiles. Pam always makes her do that.
Lindsey sneers. "Hello, Pam."
"How are things in Troop 11?" she asks Lindsey.
"All right."
"You through fattening up the neighborhood?"
"I think she means cookie sales," Jess explains.
"That's right, the cookies," says Pam.
Lindsey beams. "We did great! Farrah was the top seller again."
"You should be proud, ," Pam tells her. "Cookies are a tough racket. No room for pussies."
Lindsey's mouth drops open and she walks off.
Jess turns to Pam. "What the hell was that?"
Pam shrugs. "Chattin' up the neighbors."
"Why'd you have to talk to her like that?"
"Come on, Jess. Cookie sales? Her mom's troop leader, of course she's got to prove herself. You think she sold all those cookies because she wanted to? She was FORCED."
"Well, could you chat up the cookie moms after they buy something? I need to make atleast $112.23."
"That's specific."
"Electricity bill."
"Shit. When's it due?"
"Ask for an-"
"I've already asked for an extension. That's the last day before they cut it off."
Pam stares at the ground. Then she looks up and says, "I've got some stuff I've been meaning to sell."
"Pam, I asked you if you wanted to go in on it with me yesterday and you said no," says Jess, aggravated.
"That was when profits we're going to me. Now they're going to you," she says, heading to her garage to fish for things.
Jess doesn't say anything. She wants to tell her that she doesn't need the help, but she can't.

That, as always, is a shitty rough draft. Don't know where it's going. It's somehow loosely connected to Betsy and Michael. It's also in past tense, by the way. Don't know why I was compelled to right it in present tense here.


Velveteen said...

Hey girl, just wanted to show you proof that I found your blog. It is in my favorites now and so I will be keeping up from now on! I want to hear more... Does Jess get the money to pay the electricity bill? Does the juicer get sold before the free weights? Will Farrah be the top cookie seller again? Can't wait! :)

Velveteen said...

By the way... You will be able to identify who Velveteen is (if you haven't figured it out, oh smart one) by her famous quote: "Do you want the rest of my popcorn? I ate the spit layer off."

Genevieve said...

Velveteen- It's so early that I can not think of a witty response. Yes. I know who you are. And, spitty popcorn or not, I'm so glad you could join us here at Chez Gen! Oo! Maybe that's what I should retitle this baby. Chez Gen. Or Gwen. Or one of my damn nicknames.

Anyway, thanks chica!

Tom said...

I am upset that no one bought the table saw. I think that's the real heartbreaker here, and I think you should play that up more in the final draft. Unwanted tools go unwanted! The misery! The loneliness! The things that need to be sawn that remain unsawn...or seen? Unseen? Unseed? Un...tooled?

Word Verification - doxinge - n. antiquated, current "hinge" as used in home construction, doors, and piano benches. Typically of brass, and now often found at garage sales next to the saw no one bought.

Genevieve said...

I know! I know! The book was originally called The Saws We Left Behind, kind of like The Way We Were, only with power tools. Men across America will need to read it with a box of tissues.