Dead In the Water

Damage to be Determined

I want to see a movie made; seriously. American Lit, Cold War history, is almost scrubbed free of the sex and violence that sells products and services, the stuff that gets movies made.

American Lit is my day job, or about what was my day job before American Lit became my day job. Electionyearing was, in retrospect, the most difficult aspect of all of that. I am not penniless like U.S. Grant was; I had no son to lose the fortune I never had. I have zero name recognition in the scheme of things. My byline would sell nothing. Still my bucket list has making a movie on it. Drafting a screenplay might be as close as I get to that.

RV Bowser slows and stops dead in the water; from the galley windows the water shows hardly a ripple. The generator is shut down, unless not realistic. I want to be still quiet, for the contrast at least. I remember this feeling, from when I was fishing, Jaws comes to mind.

On this imagined ship of undetermined length and width, we have a captain, concerned, and an old man in the galley trying to figure out whether to resume mopping, or investigate the situation. He seems torn. Routine is important to him.

The size of the vessel would determine crew size. I wanted my RV’s to be at least 150’ depending on what the Taiwanese were building. I do not see this as vessel as a tramp anything, but for the sake of the story, if she must be junk, well, she is junk.

A small ship would require the man with the mop to wear more than the one hat he has on, a larger ship would keep him tied to the galley, more than likely, unless there was some sort of emergency. Which there might be, apparently.

Dead in the water

…. And there we are, diverted from electionyearing for a full half hour at least. I expect my readers to earn their credits by commenting early and often. We have a long way to go, until inauguration. We have a screen play to draft. We are on a mission. I am committed to doing the best selfcare I have ever done this one. I hope we all are.