Soliloquies are for Shakespeare
“Why do you sprint the last 100 yards or so at the end of your 2 mile walk?”
“Just to prove to myself,” replied Ian completely winded, “just to prove to myself I can still do it!”
Ian and his friend Malcom were sitting on the balcony on Ian’s home, looking out at the ocean waves as they crashed on shore. They smiled occasionally when a dog tried to swim but was knocked backwards by a strong wave and in one case had to be rescued by its owner. It was nearly a daily occurrence.
“But you were never a good runner, were you?” asked Malcom quite content sitting on the deck with his legs up on the railing, something Ian objected to but had like a lot of things, given up on trying to get Malcom to stop.
“Fairly decent I would say,” Ian was a little insulted by his friend’s insinuation just because he wasn’t like Malcom, a former Olympian. Malcom scrunched up his face in reply and Ian who at this point had sweat pouring off his face, took off his shirt and squeezed all the water out of it over the balcony, making sure there wasn’t anyone below. That was something he never did until one day when the water landed on the head of his rather beautiful neighbour.
“Fairly decent? Not from what I can remember,” replied Malcom who then decided it was time to subject Ian to another one of his recollections, which went on for quite a while.
Ian sensing that, put his hand up. Malcom closed his mouth. “Before you start,” he said, “I don’t want you to go into one of your soliloquies.”
“Malcom looked at Ian rather quizzically. “Why is that?”
“Well,” replied Ian deciding whether he should put his shirt back on or just let it dry on the railings, “well you know I like to use what we talk about in my stories.”
“That’s why I do it,” interrupted Malcom with a flourish of his hands.
“Well don’t do it anymore.”
“But you haven’t told me why.”
“Well, it’s because I have a new editor and she told me that soliloquies are for Shakespeare.” “Wait a minute,” replied Malcom rather loudly, “you have a new editor?” and with that he let his feet drop on to the balcony with a rather loud thud.
“I do, yes.”
“As of when?”
“Today,” replied Ian sensing what was coming next.
“Have you told your old editor?”
“No, not yet.”
“And when do you plan on doing that?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe in about an hour or so when she wakes up.”
“Emily is awake or at least she was when I left the house to come over here.”
“Ok, then I’ll tell her now.”
“No not now!” replied Malcom, “wait till I’ve left the house to go to the store or something like that.”
“Why, do you think she’ll take it badly?”
“Badly?” Asked Malcom standing up and looking down to see if he could see Ian’s neighbour who always smiled at him, but she wasn’t there. “Badly? Are you kidding? She lives and dies editing your stuff.”
“But she never reads it does she once its published? Or at least that’s what you told me.” Malcom shook his head pronouncedly, “no she doesn’t. But I do.”
“This new editor I have is really experienced. It’s not that Emily didn’t do a good job, but she never told me about soliloquies, whereas this one did.”
Malcom thought for a minute, “so what you’re telling me is that I have to change the way in which I talk, if I want some of my stuff in your stories.”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Well, I’m not sure I want to do that.”
“You’re entitled to that.”
Malcom sat down again and sighed. “Man, every morning I think of what I’m going to say so I can tell my friends at the club in a couple of days’ time what you’ve used from what I’ve said, and now that’s not going to happen.”
“Sure it will. It’s just that I can’t use your monologues. They are too long. The new editor Lynn read a few of my stories and told me I need to use sentences that are shorter and also not use words constantly like ‘said’ and ‘replied’ and instead use action words like ‘stood up,’ ‘leaned over,’ things like that.”
“But how are we going to deal with the Emily situation?”
“Wrong question,” Ian finally decided not to put on his soaking T-shirt which he had been holding all this time and threw it into a corner on the balcony. “Emily is your wife not mine. You have to go home to her, not me.”
“Yes you’re right.”
“Just tell her it was a business decision. Nothing against her personally.”
“You obviously don’t know Emily as well as I do.” Malcom looked at his watch. He had about ten minutes or so before he had to return home. “Ok, let’s do this. I’ll call you or send you a text message when I leave the house for the rest of the day and then you can call Emily, ok?”
Ian agreed and smiled as he saw his neighbour come out of her home and head for the beach. “There’s Natalie, Malcom, do you want to say hi?”
“Nah, I’m too depressed. Life for a short while is going to be miserable for me.”
“Sorry old chap. Someone once told me I should never do business with friends and family and this is a perfect example of why.”
“It’s ok. I know you had to do what was best for your writing. It’s just that Emily goes around telling everyone she’s an editor. In fact, she had business cards printed with that on it.”
“Has she done editing for other people?”
“No not yet. She’s looking though. How long has she been editing for you?”
“About a year now.”
“And is she that bad?”
“No, she not that bad, but I’ve come to a stage where I need a professional if I’m to widen my audience.”
“I have an idea!” Malcom’s face lit up. “I told you earlier that she never reads your stuff when its published, so why don’t we do this. Keep giving her your writing to be edited and also use the new editor. Don’t use Emily’s edits when you publish.”
Ian shook his head, “that means paying double. The new editor isn’t cheap.”
“Not even for your friend’s heavenly and peaceful marital bliss.” Ian wasn’t sure what to do. “And again,” continued Malcom after a moments deep thought, “I’m coming to your rescue. I'll give you the money to pay Emily.”
Ian laughed, “won’t she find out?”
“No, she won’t, even though we have a joint account. She doesn’t know how to balance a cheque book. Ha, ha, ha. What a genius I am!” replied Malcom finally getting up from his chair and stretching to his full height. “So, we have a deal. Emily will keep editing. I’ll give you the money to pay her. I can say stuff and you use it in your stories. In that way I can tell people at the club that you do that and life will be wonderful.”
“Glad I could help, but still remember no soliloquies.”
“Oh I won’t damn! I have to change the entire way I’ve been speaking all my life. See you tomorrow when you come back from your ten mile run champ.” Malcom always had to have the last word and Ian always let him have the last word. But in this case, he was glad he could help a friend.