Algebra

Revision, it seems to me, is a lot more like algebra class than English class. Or at least it seems that way to me today – or it did tonight, anyway, driving home through the rain with a small boy asleep in the back seat and Eric Reed on the CD player.

As I was driving, I was thinking about my revision of Dismal, which I'm neck deep in. (Auditions for most of the supporting roles in a week.)

That's when I thought of Mrs. Goodrich's algebra class.

I thought it was gonna be a fairly simple revision, Dismal. The bulk of the changes I want to do come in the first third of the script, not much in the last two-thirds. Easy, right?

Wrong.

When the story has been put together with at least a modicum of care, then even the smallest changes are gonna ripple out and affect everything. Well, not everything, but a lot. Especially in the first act. That’s when all the juicy bits have to be set up. If it’s gonna work, it has to be pretty tightly wound – so if you start fucking with it, well, get another beer, hombre, ‘cause it’s gonna be a long night.

But I was talking about algebra and English.

I recall in high school making a ridiculous (and now embarrassing) vow to my friend Jim. Borne of the arrogance of the teenaged boy, it happened like this: we were assigned to read Orwell’s 1984, and I did, and I got good grades on all the quizzes, tests and papers. At the end, I mused that I could have gotten an A without having read the book – and when Jim balked, I swore I’d never read another book during high school and still get good grades. That’ll show him.

Wow. I’m a genius, right? Impressive. What a cool decision.

(Fucking idiot.)

Anyway, it worked. I’m sad to say I didn’t read another book and I got As and Bs throughout my high school English career. Somehow, I just new the basics of stories and could weave enough of a compelling narrative myself to distract anyone with a grading pen.

(The irony? I went on to major in English education in college, got two degrees in it and taught high school English for a few years before moving into television. Like I said, I’m a fucking idiot.)

I recall in algebra class that it was a steady build of steps – at least for me. I’m sure there are those wizards out there who could skip right to complex trigonometric functions, but for me it was a slow build. First understand X + 2 = 3, therefore X = 1. Then work your way up to the Pythagorean theorem. Then your complex trigonometric functions.

I couldn’t have made such a vow to Jim in algebra class. I’d be dead in the water. I need the stepping stones. I miss Pythagoras, I flail about in the abstract darkness beyond him.

But I was talking about revision.

Once the story is laid out, revising it isn’t about your clever ability to bullshit on an essay question. It’s not just about your innate storytelling ability. It’s about your ability to understand a tightly interlocking structure and sequence – and about demonstrating your ability to unwind pieces of it to just the right point, then build a new sequence out, one that works better than before.

I hope I can pull that off. Because the Dismal revisions are tougher than I thought.

Y = MX + B indeed.