creative writing

I've really enjoyed my creative writing class so far. It's been a lot of work, but some of the writing exercises have been fun. A couple weeks ago, our professor asked us to choose from 15 possible options to write a very short story. One of the writing prompts read: "Write a story that begins with a man throwing hundred dollar bills out of a speeding car and ends with a woman urinating in a tin bucket." So of course I had to choose that one! Here it is, in all it's um... glory?

Macsweeneys Writing Exercise…$100 Bills and a Tin of Piss

Brown bills were flying in the air. Hundred dollar bills! So of course like a mad vulture I scrambled out to the street where this crazed man was just freely tossing out handfuls upon handfuls of brown bills out the passenger window of a car that was just zipping down the street. Luckily for me there weren’t that many people on that street so I made out like a bandit. It was the easiest $2000 I ever made. I figured this had to have been a joke or something or that there had to be a hidden camera lurking around somewhere. I don’t believe in God or any sort of higher power, but sometimes I get tempted to start. I mean, I don’t pray. The closest thing I do is close my eyes sometimes and just wish I could win the lottery or something. It’s never anything to improve the world really. Just good old money. For me.

I’m an artist you see. An artiste. I hate to sound like I’m the stereotypical starving artist, but it is really feast or famine sometimes. Okay, maybe it’s more nibble or famine. So this extra money came at a great time for me. I wasn’t really ready to get a day job for a while yet. I dabble in a few things. I do some photography, a bit of painting, some writing. I’m just versatile I guess. I don’t have any visions of grandeur of writing the great Canadian novel. Some people put everything they have into their work. Good for them. I just want people to buy my shit. No more, no less. I figure if pictures of Campbell’s Soup or a picture of a crucifix in a container of piss can be considered art, then count me in. I can do that. I’ll throw a handful of paint against a canvas while in a drunken rage and I’ll call it art. It’s amazing that some of my art has sold. There was even a review of my work in the local independent paper. I found it hysterical that the writer saw how much my photographs portrayed the existential angst of living in a world of McJobs and globalization. I took a wrapper of a Big Mac, pasted it to a lamp post with a wad of gum and took a picture of it. I decided to make it black and white. Voila! Art! And I got paid for it. And now I’m another spokesperson for anti-globalization. Whatever floats your boat I guess.

I was a little late for my appointment with my model this morning, since I got preoccupied scavenging after any brown bill in sight. After I figured that I picked up every last bill, I picked up a cup of coffee and walked to my studio. Okay, it’s my apartment. But it is where I do all my work, so I call it my studio. The woman was a little nervous when I showed up. She asked me why in my add I asked for the model to drink lots of fluids an hour before the session. She thought it was a little bizarre. She said she felt like she was preparing to go to a doctor’s office for a check up or something. I told her not to worry and that it would all make sense soon enough. I made sure that she was comfortable with nude modelling. She said she’s done it a few times for various art classes. My set up was pretty simple. A white sheet for background and blue lighting. And a tin can. I made sure that I had the temperature pretty cool in my apartment because I probably only had one chance to get a good shot. I gave her a big glass of water to make sure she was ready to go. Then I gave her her money for her time and efforts. I explained to her what I wanted, so she chugged the water. We waited for a few minutes until she started to get really antsy. She was finally ready. She took off her robe, grabbed that tin can and pissed like a race horse. I got seven great shots out of it. It was a good day. Except for the cleaning up part.