Saturday Nights Alone

Brigham Young University BYU ScholarsArchive Theses and Dissertations 2005-07-06 Saturday Nights Alone Daniel C. Roberts Brigham Young University - Provo Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/etd Part of the English Language and Literature Commons BYU ScholarsArchive Citation Roberts, Daniel C., "Saturday Nights Alone" (2005). Theses and Dissertations. 600. https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/etd/600 This Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by BYU ScholarsArchive. It has been accepted for inclusion in Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of BYU ScholarsArchive. For more information, please contact [email protected], [email protected]. SATURDAY NIGHTS ALONE By Daniel C. Roberts A thesis presented to the faculty of Brigham Young University In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts Department of English Brigham Young University August 2005 BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY GRADUTE COMMITTEE APPROVAL of a thesis submitted by Daniel C. Roberts This thesis has been read by each member of the following graduate committee and by majority vote has found to be satisfactory. ______________________ ______________________________ Date John Bennion, Chair ______________________ _______________________________ Date Bruce Jorgensen ______________________ _______________________________ Date Douglas Thayer BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY As chair of the candidates graduate committee, I have read the thesis of Daniel C. Roberts in its final form and have found that (1) its formats, citations, bibliographic style are consistent and acceptable and fulfill university and department style requirements; (2) its illustrative materials including figures, tables, and charts are in place; and (3) the final manuscript is satisfactory to the graduate committee and is ready for submission to the university library. ______________________ _______________________________ Date John Bennion Chair, Graduate Committee Accepted for the Department _________________________ Nicholas Mason Graduate Coordinator Accepted for the College _________________________ John Rosenberg Dean, College of Humanities ABSTRACT SATURDAY NIGHTS ALONE Daniel C. Roberts Department of English Master of Arts This novel blends first-person narrative prose with conventions of screenwriting to create a voice consistent with its main character, Rick Morgan, who’s trying to escape his life as a real estate agent by becoming a screenwriter. As Rick struggles to write a new screenplay he finds it difficult to divorce his creative mind from the troubles of his personal life. As a result his preoccupations with destroying his boss and taking back the girl the boss stole from him, work their way into Rick’s new project. The motif of art imitating life imitating art forces Rick to question long held beliefs on business, women, and the creative process as he realizes that life is not like the movies even though the movies are often like life. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Special thanks to the members of my committee, John Bennion, Bruce Jorgensen, Lance Larsen, and pinch-hitter Douglas Thayer, all of whom endured countless revisions and were always willing to help and encourage. You taught me more about writing in two years than I have learned in my life. Also to my wife who supported me through the process and was always loving and understanding. And, finally, to the Gentlemen’s Club for an enjoyable post-graduate experience. I owe all of you much. Roberts 1 Chapter 1 Saturday INT. BLOCKBUSTER VIDEO STORE—NIGHT It’s Saturday, the holy night of romance, so walking into the video store alone is like Clint Eastwood entering an unfriendly saloon. Not something I’d usually do, but Jerry wants me to have a new idea for class on Thursday; however, his critique of my last screenplay, “emotionless and unrealistic,” and his suggestion that I scrap the whole thing and start over has me second-guessing every creative impulse I have. I was tiring of the blank computer screen, so it was either kill myself or come here. I’m already questioning my decision. Jerry says I should write something from my life, but a man whose only motivation for living is the commission isn’t as interesting as a group of criminals having to pull off a job because they’re in debt to the world’s most notorious crime boss. Movies are my inspiration; sometimes just being in the video store is enough. The line to the horseshoe-shaped checkout counter is almost as depressing as an empty computer screen. “Welcome to Blockbuster,” the slack-jawed high school kid behind the counter says. Years in real estate have given me a bad taste about transparent salesmanship, and the phony greeting you get at Blockbuster is the epitome. I curse him silently, grin, and move on. Through the river of bodies passing in the store’s open annex I see the drama section, my promised land. My eyes burn from the noxious amalgamation of perfume, cologne, and sweat, but with the bulletproof confidence of the Terminator I steam forward. Roberts 2 I scan titles and cover art not blocked by meandering morons. I move as quickly as I can, while still giving proper consideration to each possibility. Jerry says when you’re writing you should think about nothing else, so I try to stay focused in spite of all the voices around me, but I still catch a few sound bites: “Al Pacino hasn’t done anything worthwhile since Godfather II.” “I hated the ending.” “Everything he does is so predictable.” “Can’t we get something with Adam Sandler?” “We’re in the market for a new house.” I stop and look at the two businessmen disguised in Saturday attire: khakis and golf shirts. I pick up the first reasonable film I see, Fargo, in a vain attempt to resist my training, but the preset script starts running through my head anyway: Sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing that you were looking for a new home. I grip the case, pinching my eyes shut. I’m here to get a movie idea, so I can get out of real estate—I’m a trapped animal chewing off his leg. “I mean, I’m an executive now,” the tall guy says. “I’ve got to start living like it, right?” He lets out a smug chuckle, lightly smacking the other on the arm, who gives a chuckle back. They’re like stock comic bullies—the tall, slender one excessively confident and overly sinister, the short, fat one weak-willed and grateful to have the illusion of friendship. “Are you using an agent?” the short one asks. I glance up from the video case. “Not yet. We’re just kind of looking on our own, but what do I know about real estate?” Another chuckle. I turn the video case over to read the synopsis. I’m hearing Roberts 3 what could have been one of the golf analogies my former boss and mentor liked to use: Swing while the wind is taking a break. Drive it to the green. Big Al loved golf and real estate—he taught me everything I am trying to forget. I start to read the Fargo video case again, remembering the criminals and their disconnection from the circumstances that surround them—a consequence-free vacuum. “Do you know any agents?” The tall man asks. This is one I can drive to the green. I lower the case. “I’m sorry,” I say, “but I couldn’t help overhearing that you were looking for a new home.” “That’s right,” the tall man says. He looks at the short guy, then back at me. “Do you know someone?” I wonder if he would better hide his desperation if he knew what I was. I crack a smile. I nod in a funny-you-should-ask way. I go for one of the business cards in my pocket, as a desperate William H. Macy stares at me from the back of the video case. Not every character in Fargo is disconnected; some are victims of their choices. The two men watch me, their strained patience with nowhere to go making them look like the kidnappers from Fargo. I envy the disconnection, and I fear the trap of choices. “No,” I say, replacing the video case, and move further down the aisle. I watch the two men reflected in the dark window in front of me. They are looking at my back, and I can hear them muttering with clenched teeth. I pull out the 3x5 cards Jerry has us carry to record “snippets of existence” and write: A MAN BECOMES A VICTIM OF HIS CHOICES. It’s nothing specific, but it’s an idea from real life, the way Jerry likes it. Roberts 4 The two men walk into the comedy section. I’m sure their conversation revolves around the wackos you meet at the video store. I flip to a new blank card and write. AN IDIOT ACCOSTS STRANGERS IN A VIDEO STORE. It’s a character flaw more than a story. I move it to the back of the stack. “Maybe you should try another section,” someone says behind me. I stuff the cards in my pocket and turn around. Audrey. Audrey’s usually here when I come in during the day. She’s cute, young, flirtatious—weapons she uses to her advantage. Like many women, she knows she can get her way if she throws her sexuality around. She’s fine to talk to, but I don’t trust anything about her, and I don’t let myself be blinded by sex. “I didn’t think you’d be you here tonight,” I say. “But you came anyway?” Already flirtatious. “Yeah, but I’m glad to see you.” “Really?” Her eyes glint, like an X-man about to use a mutant power.

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