JOHN DOMINI: FICTION
JOHN DOMINI: FICTION
Availability: 2 hours per month
1-hour session: $20
2-hour session: $35
ABOUT THE MENTOR
JOHN DOMINI is the author of several works of fiction and nonfiction, including the short story collection Movieola! and The Sea-God's Herb, a collection of critical literary essays. He has won awards in all genres, with fiction in Paris Review and nonfiction in The New York Times. The Times praised his work as "dreamlike... grabs hold of both reader and character," and Alan Cheuse, of NPR's "All Things Considered," described it as "witty and biting." John's grants include an NEA Fellowship and an Iowa Major Artist Award. He has taught at Harvard, Northwestern, and elsewhere, and makes his home in Des Moines.
Mentorship sessions are available at a cost of $20 for one hour, $35 for two hours, or $50 for four hours. All payments are processed through Submittable at the time of manuscript submission.
To book a mentoring session with John, please select one, two, or four hours (depending on availability) from the product menu above. Please continue clicking through the checkout process; though you will not be charged at this time, finishing your purchase reserves your hours with this mentor. Though you will need to provide a billing address, you do not need to enter a credit card at this time.
Once your purchase is completed, a Dzanc staff member will be in touch to help you submit your manuscript and your payment through Submittable.
SAMPLE FROM MOVIEOLA!
A blank wall, I ask you—how’s a girl supposed to act against a blank wall? How’s she supposed to brandish a sword and growl an imprecation, when all she’s facing is a big square sound-absorbent nothing?
Alya realized she worked in the Dream Factory. She was hanging in, at any rate, and long familiar with the improbabilities of the business, such as fighting to the death in club lipstick. Such as this soft-porn version of the Ionic chiton (KIY-tuhn, insisted the dialogue coach, KIY-tuhn). Years ago, on her first project, Alya had learned to brandish her cleavage as well as a weapon, give the fanboys what they want, even the S-&-M tease of struggling in chains (latex, no heavier than one of her kid’s toys). But for this project she had to work with a wall. A convincing scream could be an actress’s worst challenge, people didn’t understand, but the only threat before her was the shadow of an X, a crosshairs projected on beige matte, a placeholder for a monster. X marks the monster—and this when the fear was supposed to be primal. The ogres under development, over in CGI, were supposed to loom up out of our muckiest pre-rational sediments. Out of the dawn of Western Civ.
Alya had every right to know where the killing blow might come from. She had every right to plausible fight choreography, even if it meant taking time from the shooting schedule. Her director, however, handled her as if he wasn’t much more than a fanboy himself. One silver-tongued devil of a fanboy: An actress of your caliber, he’d murmur, of your stature....all beside the point, especially when you considered that flattery was in the job description for a director. His sweet nothings included the project’s tagline for the press: Part nanotech 3-D action-adventure, part date-night, chick-friendly.