(no subject)
Scott isn't really expecting anybody to show. If anybody does, it'll probably be students from class-- he offered 'em a whopping letter increase in their grade to bribe them, and of course the permanent esteem of their favorite professor into the bargain-- though it's possible some people might stumble in on a whim, lured by the promise of free food.
But maybe he's being pessimistic. Sure, there isn't anything like this going on yet, but maybe that means there's a void that needs to be filled. Everybody likes being read to, Scott thinks, and everybody's got a favorite book, even if it's just something they loved the binding off as a kid. Even more than that, Scott hopes people bring their own stories to share. The people on the island have got more stories than even your average bear, and it'd be a crime not to give folks an outlet for them.
It began (as a whole smucking motherlode of brilliant ideas have throughout history, he's sure) by talking to his ladyfriend about it, kinda laying the concept down as a coffeehouse/poetry-slam kinda thing, with people reading short stories and novel excerpts and poetry, maybe at first from books but hopefully, eventually stuff fresh out of their own brainpans. They could do it in his classroom, he'd suggested, because they'd need a place relatively isolated from the daily grind, a place that people could trade in their suits and black specs for capes and spandex-- metaphorically, anyway. Maybe if it takes off he can see about getting a special place built for it, they can have islander-created art on the walls, musicians, maybe the occasional island-indie film night...
But you know Lisey; it's like that bit from Raisin in the Sun: Man say to his woman, I got me a dream. His woman say: eat your eggs. Gotta start small. So he put up posters, advertising an island-style coffeehouse. Lisey does the work of making sure there's coffee and punch and some things for people to nosh on, and-- here's the kicker-- a huge bowlful of little chocolate bars. Those ain't for just anybody, they're for the brave ones who don't just come to listen, but who volunteer to read. One chocolate bar if you read from a book, two-- that's one for you and one for your sweetie-- if you read your own work. That part was included in the advertising-- Scott's not ashamed of bribery, not if means he gets to geek out with his fellow bookworms and writers.
So now the stage is set. He's got a sign outside the door to the school, posters hung up in all the usual places, refreshments on the table inside and a huge stack of books. He's made sure to get a lot of children's books, 'cause this is a family-friendly sorta thing, though if it takes off, maybe he can do a couple of theme nights-- one just for the babes and their caretakers, another that's strictly poetry, another that's all noir. Zowie.
Scott sits and waits, hoping he doesn't spend the night alone flipping through these books and deciding what he's gonna share, but knowing there are probably worse ways to spend the evening. Only trouble is, if nobody shows, Lisey's probably gonna find her man face down on the desk in a diabetic coma come morning. That chocolate smells good.
[ Please see this post for info! Have your pup read a little something, get feedback, listen to others, or hey, just show up for the free food. If your pup happens to walk by the Island School, feel free to say that Scott grabbed them by the shoulders and steered them in here. He's kinda pushy. xD ]
But maybe he's being pessimistic. Sure, there isn't anything like this going on yet, but maybe that means there's a void that needs to be filled. Everybody likes being read to, Scott thinks, and everybody's got a favorite book, even if it's just something they loved the binding off as a kid. Even more than that, Scott hopes people bring their own stories to share. The people on the island have got more stories than even your average bear, and it'd be a crime not to give folks an outlet for them.
It began (as a whole smucking motherlode of brilliant ideas have throughout history, he's sure) by talking to his ladyfriend about it, kinda laying the concept down as a coffeehouse/poetry-slam kinda thing, with people reading short stories and novel excerpts and poetry, maybe at first from books but hopefully, eventually stuff fresh out of their own brainpans. They could do it in his classroom, he'd suggested, because they'd need a place relatively isolated from the daily grind, a place that people could trade in their suits and black specs for capes and spandex-- metaphorically, anyway. Maybe if it takes off he can see about getting a special place built for it, they can have islander-created art on the walls, musicians, maybe the occasional island-indie film night...
But you know Lisey; it's like that bit from Raisin in the Sun: Man say to his woman, I got me a dream. His woman say: eat your eggs. Gotta start small. So he put up posters, advertising an island-style coffeehouse. Lisey does the work of making sure there's coffee and punch and some things for people to nosh on, and-- here's the kicker-- a huge bowlful of little chocolate bars. Those ain't for just anybody, they're for the brave ones who don't just come to listen, but who volunteer to read. One chocolate bar if you read from a book, two-- that's one for you and one for your sweetie-- if you read your own work. That part was included in the advertising-- Scott's not ashamed of bribery, not if means he gets to geek out with his fellow bookworms and writers.
So now the stage is set. He's got a sign outside the door to the school, posters hung up in all the usual places, refreshments on the table inside and a huge stack of books. He's made sure to get a lot of children's books, 'cause this is a family-friendly sorta thing, though if it takes off, maybe he can do a couple of theme nights-- one just for the babes and their caretakers, another that's strictly poetry, another that's all noir. Zowie.
Scott sits and waits, hoping he doesn't spend the night alone flipping through these books and deciding what he's gonna share, but knowing there are probably worse ways to spend the evening. Only trouble is, if nobody shows, Lisey's probably gonna find her man face down on the desk in a diabetic coma come morning. That chocolate smells good.
[ Please see this post for info! Have your pup read a little something, get feedback, listen to others, or hey, just show up for the free food. If your pup happens to walk by the Island School, feel free to say that Scott grabbed them by the shoulders and steered them in here. He's kinda pushy. xD ]