Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [1]
For reasons that will become obvious, both authors refused to come together to revise their work. I present it to you in its original form. While unorthodox in structure, it is nevertheless a novel. It just happens to tell more stories than either author intended.
Signed,
The Editor
Dave,
I just finished the first chapter of a new novel—a real crime novel with a dead body and all—and I thought of you. And not in the way you might expect.
I’ll cut to the chase: What would you say about making a go of another collaboration? And, no, I have not recently suffered a head injury. There’s just something about this project that makes me feel like two heads might be better than one.
I know what you’re thinking. Yes, our last attempt at collaboration, The Fop, was an epic disaster. A monthlong volcano of insults followed by a few years of complete silence qualifies, yes? Sometimes I don’t know how we survived it (not to mention several other battles). But this is, what, thirteen years later? We’re older, wiser, and probably too tired to fight with that level of vigor.
And maybe The Fop was doomed from the start. When it came down to writing it in the sober light of day, it might not have been the bulletproof idea it seemed over pitchers of beer at the Kilowatt. The story of a double-agent valet hiding behind the identity of his moronic yet flamboyant master is basically a B-movie version of Jeeves and Wooster. (Although, honestly, I still think there’s something there. It just wasn’t our fate to realize the vision.)
More importantly, we were writing that thing in the same room. Facial expressions can ratchet up an already stressful experience. I also think it’s worth mentioning that this was back in your poetry days, and frankly, your touches of poignancy and high-art references were severely out of place in a broadly comic, mainstream undertaking.
Really, I accept equal blame for it. I had no patience and was often quite rude. Let me just offer up an overall mea culpa. But forget about The Fop. This is not The Fop. This is an as-yet-untitled crime novel that I think has some potential.
Okay, time to address the other elephant in the room. I know you’re still bitter about you-know-what. It’s true, in the very beginning, you helped brainstorm a few character details and offered some valuable footwear consultation. But it was always my screenplay, not a joint venture. And after the brutal struggles over The Fop, did you really expect me to ask you to collaborate again? Still, I know you felt betrayed, especially since The Fop went nowhere and my solo project got made (even if it did go straight to video). But that’s all in the past. This is my olive branch to you. Maybe I’m a sucker for unfinished business, but I still believe we have some creative symbiosis.
If you’re game, let me know and I’ll send you the first chapter along with a few minor stipulations. If not, no offense taken. I’m sure I can find some other ex-poet interested in slumming it in the world of mainstream fiction.
Best,
Lisa
Lisa,
And hello to you, too. A word or two of personal greeting would have been nice—after all, it’s been a few months since I saw you at Frank’s. But I guess the businesslike approach is part of your strategy for this new project. I think I get it.
And we did almost have something with The Fop, didn’t we? Clear away the romantic debris—and maybe the last half-hour of every writing session—and it really might have worked. I still laugh every time I think of the ski lodge scene (after he retrieves the monocle). Can you name a funnier movie sequence in the past decade? I can’t.
But yeah, communication was never our strong suit. For example, the news that you considered The Fop a “broadly comic, mainstream undertaking” would have been useful in 1997. If I’d known we were aiming that low, I would have punched up the crotch gags, and maybe the last thirteen years would have gone differently for me. But let’s leave all that in the past. I’m sorry, too.
I had a good