Things I Plan To Include In My Future Work
by LOIS EHRENREICH
A lioness with an eating disorder.
Alliteration when you least expect it, abbreviation when you do.
Garbage cans knocked over as a metaphor for domestic unrest.
A shocking denouement that revolves around the implication of betrayal rather than the thing itself.
Bare, unfettered honesty without regard for the feelings and concerns of others.
Magnification using the latest scientific techniques, adapted for literary inquiry.
Obscure references to a troubled upbringing.
A maraschino cherry, perched on the fingertip of a bodybuilder named Jerome.
She gives up pilates.
Apologies, subtle or opaque for those I wronged through my inconsideration.
A re-imagining of The Punisher in a high school setting utilizing weapons-grade plutonium in a cello as the MacGuffin.
A gentleman who throws pennies into toilets instead of fountains.
Use the murder of innocents as justification for imposing my views on others.
Name my characters after months, days and astrological signs as God intended.
Publish my e-mails save for the ones that make me look like a fool.
A medical drama revolving around the malfeasance of a baby sitter.
A pet parrot who mimics the sound of his owner's orgasms.
Detailed descriptions of breakfast sandwiches.
Death by Camelot.
An important clue revolves around whether or not a woman takes her husband's name.
Utilize a pseudonym to hide my true feelings about a semi-famous person.
Subvert the well-known tale of a woman cast out by her faith by showing her to be in the wrong.
Contain simple anger in the spoken words of my mother as she watched me walk to school. Years ago.
Eliminate the word "was" from my writing.
Deep unhappiness.
Show the reason for something occurring and then leave the rest for a semi-poetic homage in the style of Tender Buttons.
Steal the ending of The Once and Future King but make it good. Throw it away.
At the end of the rainbow the protagonist finds nothing but dirt and dust.
Return all the books I borrowed to their rightful owners.
End with a joke.
Lois Ehrenreich is the senior contributor to This Recording. She is a writer living in New York. She last wrote in these pages about things she will not do in her writing. You can find an archive of her writing on This Recording here.
Images by Colleen Ann H. Philippi (color) and Cathy Daley (b&w).
"Dreaming Without You" - Bleached (mp3)
"Searching Through the Past" - Bleached (mp3)
