At least twice in my academic life I have been assigned to read Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities and both times I never finished (or in the second case, never started) because I find Dickens tedious.
What? HE GOT PAID BY THE WORD AND I CAN TELL.
But I can’t deny the epicness (not a word, I know) of the first lines of that book.
For my high school graduation, my sister gave me a fantastic card with a cartoon graduate standing at a podium reciting the lines: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” And ain’t that the truth!
There have also been times when after doing something for someone else (like not restarting a movie on Netflix instant-watch when I feel like it because a friend whom I let use my account is only half way through it) when I think: “It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done…” Because apparently I don’t do things nicer than not disrupting someone’s movie progress, or maybe I do, but this just feels like such a kind thing to do for someone else, you know? But anyway, very good, Dickens. Very good.
I’m taking a fiction writing class this summer because I always feel more creative when I’m not letting school stress me out (well, la di da, who would have thought?) and because my first story was all kinds of depressing and focused on telling the beginnings and ending of a doomed marriage and family, I felt it was only fair that I attempt to give my classmates something funny to read.
And thus, “A Tale of Two Hipsters” was born. Well, not “and thus” because I wrote scenes for two other stories before deciding I wanted to write a blind date story about two out-of-touch vegan, hipsters in 2008.
We’re still in the birthing process and it’s wholly first draft status at this point, but that’s where the fun lies.
Mazel Tov and Happy 4th!