How to Succeed at Homelessness Without Really Trying

Here's the very beginning of my novel, which I hashed out in the SLCC Community Writing Center Scenewriting Mini-Workshop during Utah Arts Festival 2010:

"Mr Evanston wants to see you in his office first thing," the receptionist informed Donald as he walked into the Daily Monitor's offices.

Oh shit, thought Don. Well, I knew I'd be sticking my neck out and stepping on some toes with this one.

His editor's personal office was all the way to the back of the news room. The door was ajar, and Don could see that Mr. Evanston was talking very fervently with whomever was on the other end of the line. His face was scarlet. don attempted a quick turnaround back toward his desk,, but was stopped by a hoarse shout.

"Morton! Get your ass back here!" Evanston turned his attention back to the mystery caller, made apologies, said goodbye and hung up the phone. "Sit down," he ordered, pointing to a very uncomfortable looking chair at the front side of his desk. He took a piece of chewing gum from his desk drawer, removed a stick, rolled it up and popped it into his mouth. "I need a cig. Fucking clean air laws."

Donald squirmed around, trying to get comfortable in the chair, and failing. "You wanted to see me?"

"Damned right I wanted to see you. Do you have any idea who that was on the phone just now?"

"The pope?" Don guessed, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, wise ass. It was the governor. Our governor.

"Oh. How's he doing?"

Evanston rose from his chair, turned his back to Don, facing out the big office window. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back. "You, young man, have really stepped in the shit."

Don made a big production of checking his shoes for foreign substances and sniffing the air for any foul smell. Evanston saw this reflected in the window pane and turned to face his budding future Pulitzer winning columnist.

"I took a chance on you five years ago because I like you. But this is not alt press. We're a daily. The Daily Monitor. It's in the name. We don't expose people. We don't print anything that doesn't come from an although confidential, a reliable source. And we don't bite hands that feed us. This paper is a prestigious publication, not some rag."

"Yes, sir."

Evanston picked up the morning edition of his newspaper from the desktop. "Whatever possessed you to write this? Whatever made you think I would approve of this being printed in my paper? The mayor is a close friend, and the governor is his close friend. I can't save you on this one. You're fired, Donald. I'm sorry."



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