Exit, Stage Left

Know who said that? I do. Here he is, in all his august glory, Snagglepuss. In my novel it's 1962, and Franny loves Saturday morning cartoons.

I did, too. I didn't know this at the time, of course, but now I see (upon rewatching the umpteen clips on YouTube) that I soaked up lots of sophisticated language, lovely turns of phrase, and some hilarious ways to make others laugh by watching Snagglepuss and his hip delivery, like something out of a Shakespeare play, crossed with Jackie Gleason and a dash of the Marx Brothers, too.

I'm exiting, stage left, this afternoon, as son Zach moves today. I am in charge of the chili/soup, which is bubbling as I type. I've fiddled with the novel, but it's hard for me to fit in fifteen uninterrupted minutes today, what with the workers who are here (more on this later), Jim and Richard going off to vote early so we have the day free, and my chopping, slicing, stirring, of a chilly-fall-day's soup. Still -- once this day falls into evening, I plan to hole up and write forward.

I've been working with my characters today, with the limited time I had to work this morning. Characters need identifiers, or tics or tags... there are different words for this. Each character I create has his or her unique ways of seeing the world and/or interacting with it. There is an inside landscape and an outside manifestation of that.. along with small things characters do or say -- Ruby saying "Good Garden of Peas!" for instance, and always pulling up her left overalls strap, always pushing her unruly red hair out of her face.

Franny loves Snagglepuss. It's part of her identity. Here's a one-minute clip featuring that sophisticated cat. It still makes me laugh... and, it helps me characterize Franny.

Heavens to Murgatroyd!

1 comment:

  1. Oh, fun!

    Do you ever get the sense that certain themes/ideas float among us writers through the ether? Example: Just yesterday, I finished drafting a chapter into which I'd written my own memories about mimicking Snagglepuss and his Loony Tunes buddies. My (afternoon) kindergarten teacher thought it was funny, but my father sure didn't. He thought my Foghorn Leghorn imitation poked fun at him. Uh oh..exit, stage left!

    Thanks, again and again, for these lovely snippets from the 1960s. :)


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