(The Creative Writing Assignment)   opgaven i Kreativ Skrivning (den uforkortede version) Af Professor J. Miller, SMU (oversat af Kenneth Krabat, 2002 og velvilligt korrekturlæst af Tue Gaston)     Onsdagens klasseøvelse I dag vil vi eksperimentere med en ny form, kaldet tandem-fortællingen. Metoden er enkel. Enhver danner par med personen, der sidder umiddelbart til højre for ham eller hende. En af jer vil så skrive det første afsnit i en novelle. Partneren læser dette første afsnit og tilføjer endnu et afsnit til fortællingen. Den første person tilføjer så et nyt afsnit og så fremdeles. Husk hver gang at genlæse alt der er blevet skrevet, så kontinuiteten holdes gennem hele historien. Fortællingen er slut, når begge bliver enige om, at en konklusion er nået. Denne opgave blev rent faktisk afleveret af to af mine studerende, Rebecca - efternavn slettet, og Gary - efternavn slettet. HISTORIEN: (første afsnit af Rebecca) Til at begynde med kunne Laurie ikke bestemme sig for hvilken slags te, hun havde lyst til. Kamille, der plejede at være hendes yndling på dovne aftener derhjemme, mindede hende nu alt for meget om Carl, som engang sagde, det var gladere tider da, at han holdt af kamille. Men hun mærkede, at hun nu, for alt i verden, måtte holde tankerne fra Carl. Hans besiddertrang var kvælende, og nårsomhelst hun tænkte for meget på ham, brød hendes astma frem igen. Kamille kunne der derfor ikke blive tale om. (Gary) På samme tid et andet sted havde Front-Sergeant Carl Harris, lederen at angrebsgruppen, der nu var i kredsløb om Skylon 4, langt vigtigere ting at tænke på end Lauries neuroser, Laurie den tomhjernede astmatiske bimbo, han havde tilbragt en svedende nat sammen med over et år forinden. "S.S. Harris til Geostation 17," sagde han ned i sin transgalaktiske kommunikator. "Pol-kredsløb etableret. Indtil videre ingen tegn på modstand..." Men før han kunne nå at hilse af, kom en  blålig partikelstråle blæsende ud af ingenting og sprængte et hul gennem hans skibs lastrum. Rykket fra den præcise træffer sendte ham flyvende ud af sædet og tværs gennem cockpittet. Han slog hovedet og døde næsten omgående, men ikke før han nåede at mærke en sidste følelse af fortrydelse over psykisk at have forrået den eneste kvinde, der nogen sinde havde haft varme følelser for ham. Straks derefter standsede Jorden sine meningsløse fjendtligheder overfor de fredelige landmænd på Skylon 4. "Kongressen Vedtager Lov, Der Afskaffer Krig Og Rumfart" læste Laurie en morgen i sin avis. Nyheden på én gang optændte og kedede hende. Hun stirrede ud af vinduet, mens hun drømte om sin ungdom -- dengang dagene var passeret uden hast og bekymringer, uden aviser at skulle læse, intet tv der kunne distrahere hende i hendes følelse af uskyldsren undren over alle de smukke ting overalt omkring hende. "Hvorfor skal man miste sin uskyld for at blive kvinde?" grublede hun tankefuld. Hun vidste det ikke, men hun havde mindre end 10 sekunder tilbage at leve i. Tusinder af kilometer over byen affyrede Anu'udrianernes moderskib det første af sine lithiumfusion-missiler. De lammedøde, tøsede fredsmissionærer, som tvang den Unilaterale Luftrums Afvæbnings Aftale igennem til godkendelse i Kongressen havde gjort Jorden til et forsvarsløst mål for de fjendtlige alien emperier, som var besluttet på at udrydde den menneskelige race. * Indenfor to timer efter Aftalens vedtagelse var Anu'udrianerne på kurs mod Jorden, medbringende sprængkraft nok til at pulverisere hele planeten. Uden nogen til at stoppe dem, iværksatte de hurtigt deres diabolske plan. Lithiumfussion-missilerne trængte uhindret gennem atmosfæren. I sit tophemmelige mobile undervandshovedkvartér på havbunden udenfor Guam fornemmede præsidenten den ufattelige massive eksplosion, der udslettede stakkels, dumme Laurie og 85 millioner andre amerikanere. Præsidenten knaldede knytnæven i konferencebordet. "Vi kan ikke tillade det hér! Jeg vetoer aftalen! Lad os skyde dem ad Ørsballe til!" ** Det her er absurd. Jeg nægter at fortsætte med denne latterliggørelse af litteratur. Min skrivepartner er en voldelig, chauvinistisk semi-analfabetisk drengerøv. Okay? Nå, men du er en selvcentreret trættende neurotiker, og dit forsøg på at skrive det litterære svar på valium. "Uh, skal jeg nu drikke kamillete? Eller skal jeg vælge en eller anden FORPULET te??? Åh nej! Jeg er sådan en tomhjernet gås, der læser for mange Barbara Cartland-romaner." Røvhul. Møgso. Bøssekarl. Mær. Skrup ad helvede til. Knep dig selv. FUCK DIG - DIN NEANDERTALER! Årh, tag og drik noget te - luder. * (menneskene er én art, og mange racer. - Proff. Miller) ** orig. = Let's blow'em out of the sky! (oversætteren) --- The Creative Writing Assignment (uncut version) Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to reread what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached. The following was actually turned in by two of my English students: Rebecca - last name deleted, and Gary - last name deleted. STORY: (first paragraph by Rebecca) At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question. ( Gary) Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit. He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel." Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth -- when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully. Little did she know, but she has less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dimwitted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through Congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow'em out of the sky!" This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semiliterate adolescent. Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of FUCKING TEA??? Oh no! I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Mills & Boon novels." Asshole. Bitch. Wanker. Slut. Get fucked. Eat shit. FUCK YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!! Go drink some tea - whore.