elizabeth grigg - the other fourth meal

I saw U2 in Portland, oh, back in 2001 or so, where Bono repeated his request for the return of his 1981 lyrics. (However, I believe he said it was a "rucksack" and not a briefcase, I remember because rucksack is an unusual word around here, so "euro"). His appeal gnawed at me and I made some progress outlining a novel I would write based on the adventures those lyrics would have since their disappearance.

However, the lyrics have been found! So I will have to re-think the idea, or use the good parts for something else.

The thing I especially had to offer that project was the ability to guess what the content of those lyrics might be. I was all over October at a pivotal time for me musically and emotionally. I listened to it on my paper route in the morning using my walkman. While technically flawed, the album embodies what I still believe it means to carry yourself in the world. Heady stuff.

So, in my potential novel I would have the lyrics discovered by an up and coming singer, and secretly used for her first album which is a hit. Then the scandal breaks, the world finds out that a) she doesn't write her own lyrics, and b) oh by the way, it's Bono's lyrics. The theft is not her fault, it's her older brother who's friend stole them in the first place.

Of course there's this other subplot of the tortured music critic and his savant housemate from college, how he discovers the girl's band and stakes his credibility on their ascent, only to discover that talent and credibility are not what he expects. He goes real nutty after a freak accident and takes a vow of silence, the details of which comprise the climax of the book. I'm trying to work in a madcap caper in there somehow during this vow of silence for the music critic. Everything works out OK though, very deconstructionist but compassionate point. I wanted it to be a book Bono would enjoy reading.

The magical thing about the true story is, what would cause a thief to keep the pages? U2 was not a big band in those days. No paparazzi. Would someone, looking for money and instead finding heartfelt declarations of sanity, as undoubtedly those lyrics must have been, decide to tuck it away somewhere rather than throwing it in the trash? Imagine how good the lyrics would have to be in order to stop a thief in his/her tracks this way. Magic.