He can’t find the right rhythm
To the joke
Sitting in his office
With a freshly lit cigarette
Withering away in the ashtray beneath him
He stares at his computer
As if the answer’s locked somewhere behind the screen
And he has to pull it out
Using only his unsullied attention
‘JD?’
Kirstin knocks on the door
And pops her head in
He looks up at her
But doesn’t say anything
‘How are the pages coming?’
He picks up the cigarette
Takes a drag
And then plants it back in the ashtray
Kirstin’s been working with him long enough now
To get the message
‘I’ll tell them you need a little more time,’ she says
Already pressing a button her headset
And heading back downstairs
To try and calm the network flunkies
J.D. Salinger, one of the greatest writers of all time
Stumped on a stupid sex joke
He shouldn’t even be here
His very presence in this office
In this building
With the soundstage for a sitcom called ‘Hey New Hampshire!’
directly below him
Was chipping away at his legacy
Bit by bit
Once upon a time, he dreamed of being a recluse
But Hollywood came calling with a blank check
And so he moved to Los Angeles
And wrote one of the best adaptations of a book ever
‘Catcher’ won five Oscars, including Best Picture and Best
Adapted Screenplay
And from then on in, he was hooked
There was no going back to a quiet little life spent typing
out stories that would never be published
Or spending time with young women who wanted to bask in his
glow
Now there was work to be done
And the first order of business
Was to follow up ‘Catcher’
With ‘Franny’
Which, unfortunately, did not do as well
As J.D.’s first debut film
Hollywood allows for a certain amount of failure, however
And his next movie, an original story he came up with
About teenagers in Boston in the 1920’s
Was received very well
And he added another Oscar to his mantle
The trouble started a few years
--And a few more failed movies
After that
When his drinking got a little out of control
And Hollywood became a little too jumpy
To insure him
Well…not all of Hollywood
TV was more than thrilled to take a risk
On one of American’s most prestigious writers
And so J.D. Salinger wound up working on a drama
Called ‘Blue Fields’ which was a huge hit
And which cemented him back in place
As a writer for the visual medium
Even if the medium had gotten a lot smaller
‘Blue Fields’—a family drama set during the 60’s
Ended up being the tv version of his ‘Catcher’ success
When it ended after an eight-year run
He tried following it up with another family drama
Only to have it last half a season
Before being put out of its misery
That was around the time he was sued
For a variety of things
--Hang out in California long enough
And somebody’s bound to sue you for something
There was no shame in it
But hiring lawyers did make the coffers run pretty dry
So he started taking work he needed
Rather than work he wanted
And that was how he found himself
Working on sitcoms
Like ‘Hey New Hampshire!’
What startled him was that he was actually good at writing
bad jokes
And predictable situations for only half-drawn characters
Compared to crafting a decent short story
It was a walk in the park
At least, it had been for a few years
Until Salinger felt the monotony of it all
Start to weigh on him
And that’s how he found himself
Staring at a computer screen
Trying to think up a joke
About boobs
‘The problem is I can’t say tits,’ he told himself,
‘If I could just use the word tits…’
But the problem was much bigger than that
He hadn’t written anything worthwhile in years
Hell, he didn’t even have an idea for a story or novel
And every once in awhile some asshole online
Would publish an article about the man he used to be
What was I supposed to do, he wanted to ask them
Write a few novellas and the greatest American novel since
Gatsby
And then disappear forever?
People have to work
People have to live
People have to screw up
It’s a crucial part of life
The rise and fall
You can’t get out of it
You can’t get away from it
And you can’t just call it quits
If you’re a writer, you have to write
And you have to write things people can read or hear
Otherwise, what’s the point?
Who would you be writing for?
He takes another drag off his cigarette
And places his hands softly on the keyboard
So as not to lose the little joke
That’s just landed on his fingertips
‘…AMY…’
He writes the character’s name, and then—
‘Well, at least if the boat sinks, I know I can float!’
He could almost hear the canned laughter in his head
Another cigarette drag
A click of the mouse
A twist in his arm
To crack a few of his bones
And that was it
You gotta work, he thinks to himself
No matter what
You gotta work
