Guest post: A noun like Alice

A Noun like Alice by Jax

AN ELDERLY LADY AND HER MIDDLEAGED DAUGHTER ARE HAVING COFFEE.

DORA: But I don't want to hurt Alice's feelings, dear.
SARAH: Mum--
DORA Well, you know what Alice is like--and she says her talent is a gift from God.
SARAH: (Laughs) He's been a bit stingy then.
DORA: Her publisher said she's got creative genius.
SARAH: And he's not just saying that because she's paying him, of course.
DORA: She just doesn't see it, though.
SARAH: Surely deep down inside she must suspect--
DORA: Actually, she thinks William rather fancies her.
SARAH: (Laughs) He fancies her money, that's all!
DORA: I had hoped her first book, 'Poetry and Prose to Feed the Senses' would be a one-off, and I bought a copy.
SARAH: But it wasn't a one-off, was it? Seven books later, and there's no sign of Alice stopping.
DORA: Yes, that's the problem. I've kept humouring her and buying a copy, hoping it'll be the last--but it never is.
SARAH: Sorry, Mum, but as long as idiots like you will keep on buying her 'efforts', she'll keep on churning books out.
DORA: I know.
SARAH: Have you tried sitting her down over a coffee and telling her tactfully--
DORA: Didn't you try that when she brought out Book Number Four, dear?
SARAH: Yes, well, I had a lot on my mind. Tony was being bullied at school and--
DORA: And you ended up buying copies of all her books, including her latest.
SARAH: Okay, it isn't easy, I know.
DORA: Alice believes she is doing the world a great service by giving it her stories and poems.
SARAH: But the truth is, her friends and associates just sigh, and stump up their cash for rubbish they don't want. I bet the charity shops are full of her books.
DORA: Yes, that's it in a nutshell, dear. I really can't afford to keep buying one of Alice's books every few months--and, yes, I do give them straight to the PDSA shop.
SARAH: This self publishing can't be cheap, either. She must be made of money!
DORA: She pays £900 per title, which is cheap, she tells me.
SARAH: Her Bert would be spinning in his grave if he knew how she's wasting his nest egg.
DORA: Yes, that makes me feel all the more guilty--
SARAH: Guilty?
DORA: I know how hard Burt worked and how they scrimped and saved. I keep telling myself I won't buy the next book she brings out. I've tried ignoring Alice's hints, but she looks so hurt and I feel like I'm letting her down, and not being a good friend to her.
SARAH: It's sheer emotional blackmail!
DORA: I know, but she was so good to me when Dad died, dear. You were away at Uni and I really don't know how I would have coped without Alice.
SARAH: All the same--there is a limit to friendship, Mum.
DORA: (Nods). I suppose I've encouraged her really by telling her I liked her stories and poems.
SARAH: You didn't want to hurt her feelings, I suppose?
DORA: She says all her friends from the church tell her they enjoy her books too--no one wants to hurt her feelings (as she is such a dear) but they must all inwardly groan every time she brings out another title. Well, you've read her work -
SARAH: Don't remind me! I know Robert Frost said free verse is like tennis without nets but there's supposed to be some...thought. Alice just scribbles any old thing.
DORA: Yes, she often tells me she wrote a poem in under 5 minutes. She thinks it would take something away if she edited.
SARAH: And her stories are the same. "My name's Joan and my husband is impotent."
DORA: Yes, she writes from real life. Her hair dresser told her that her husband was having...problems, apparently.
 SARAH: I read on just to see if it improved.
DORA: Yes, I remember that one. She called it 'No hard feelings'. William her publisher loved it, she said.
SARAH: (Tuts). She should try telling him she's spent all Burt's money and ask William to pay the cost of publishing, she'd soon see how much he loves her stories then.
DORA:  I know.
SARAH: But, of course, she keeps on paying - and her publisher keeps on telling her she's a genius. I'd like a word with that William.
DORA: So would I, but--
SARAH: But?
DORA: I suppose in a funny sort of way, his flattery helps her cope without Burt.
SARAH: Mmmm. An expensive form of therapy, though.
DORA: Yes.

THE DOORBELL RINGS. DORA ANSWERS IT.

DORA: Hello, Alice. I wasn't expecting you. Come in, Sarah's here.
ALICE: Well, I'll just come in for a quick cup of tea, love.  I haven't seen Sarah since she bought some of my books last year. Hello, Sarah, you're looking well--are you pregnant again?
SARAH: (Grits teeth). No, it's just the cut of this dress. Anyway, how are you?
ALICE:  Oh, you know - the same. I've just had my hair done. I get all my stories from my hairdresser. William--he's my publisher - asks me where on earth I get such ideas!
SARAH: Mum tells me he says you're a genius.
DORA: I'll just put the kettle on. (Exits)
ALICE: Oh, total flannel, of course. He thinks I don't know he's only after my money.
SARAH: You don't believe it then?
ALICE: Oh, good Lord, no. Between you, me and the gatepost, I did to start with--your mother and people I know at the church so looked forward to my stories and poems, but they're very easily pleased. (laughs).
DORA: (Returns). (Smiles uneasily and passes her a cup of tea). Is that too strong, dear?
ALICE: You know me--I like a cup of bark. (sips noisily). Ahhhh. Where was I? Oh, yes, I was just telling Sarah I'm not going to write any more books, love. I know you'll be disappointed, of course -
DORA: Oh, what a shame.
SARAH: (gives her a 'look') Yes, Mum was just saying how she...rates your work.
ALICE: Well, you'll be pleased to hear that my final book will be available soon, Dora. I'll put you down for a copy, shall I?
DORA: Yes, okay, dear. Lovely.
ALICE: And you, too, Sarah? I remember how much you said you enjoyed reading my books.
DORA: (gives Sarah a 'look').
SARAH: (coughs) Yes, super. (drinks her coffee)
ALICE: I joined a creative writing class at the church hall and the tutor there pointed out so many faults in my writing that I decided to call it a day.
DORA: Oh, dear. Really?
ALICE: Yes, she wasn't tactful at all. I said, "I don't remember hearing that you've written any best sellers, Mavis." That shut her up! She's only a shelf-filler in the Pound shop. Jumped up little madam!
SARAH: So, what now? Will you play Bingo with Mum?
ALICE: Oh, no. Sorry, Dora, love, but you know how moronic I find all that sort of thing.
DORA: Yes.
ALICE: No, I'm painting now, Sarah, my love.
DORA: Painting? I didn't know you could paint.
ALICE: Neither did I till a few weeks ago, but I've met a nice chap who sells canvases and he says I'm a natural.

SARAH AND DORA EXCHANGE GLANCES

DORA: What sort of painting, Alice, dear?
ALICE: Oils.
SARAH: Landscapes and things?
ALICE: Modern art. You must call round at my studio--it's my spare bedroom--and have a look. There's bound to be something you both like and they're all for sale.

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A resident of Plymouth, England, Jax works at a theater for a living but spends his free time on creative writing. He dabbles in an impressive range of forms and genres. In the past several years Jax has won short story and poetry competitions and penned a novel. Most recently, he has completed a creative writing course and had many short pieces, including fictional pieces not unlike "A Noun like Alice," published.