Make Dust Our Paper: A Creative Endeavor

December 3, 2021

Dear Reader,

What you have in your hands…digitally speaking…is a short collection of creative adaptations. In Early British Literature at North Central Texas College in the fall of 2021, we set out to experience the work of Shakespeare in personal ways. These pieces are a result of a group project where the students were challenged to choose one play they’d never read from Shakespeare’s oeuvre of work.

Once they read the play collectively as this was a group challenge, they had to figure out what was at its heart. What was driving the play? What was the true conflict? How did they know?

Then the fun part came.

I read a book by Dahlia Adler last semester. Nice segue, right? It was called This Way Madness Lies. In it, writers take a play written by Shakespeare, find the essence of the play itself, and then create a piece of written art that encompasses that concept. This is what we would do! So, all credit really goes to the book linked below because without it, the students wouldn’t have even been challenged to create their own.

So, the following pieces are our attempt at reading Shakespeare, interpreting it personally, and the re-representing it on our own terms. Dear reader, I hope you enjoy.

With excitement and pride,

JA

Check out the aforementioned book here: https://www.dahliaadler.com/that-way-madness-lies

“Self-Sabotage”

Comedy of Errors

Self-Sabotage Caleb A. JJ B. Clement C. Sophie P. Parker Y.

On the night before Jennifer Smith underwent the worst day of her life, she had been having the best night of her life. The frat house hosting the party was shaking as the bass reverberated through the walls, the floors were slick with spilled beer, and the screaming voices of drunk man children filled Jennifer’s ears. Not that Jenny wasn’t also wasted. A lightweight by nature, Jenny would’ve been wasted after two red solo cups of generic beer, and she had had six. Or seven. She couldn’t really tell. As the music was boosted through the house, Jenny found herself feeling very faint. Stumbling over her own feet, she grabbed at the wall, desperate to regain balance. The whole world seemed to have flattened, and she felt herself lose her grip on the railing of the stairs. She tumbled down the stairs, her head thumping against each respective step. Vaguely, she was aware of some girl drunkenly screaming, and some frat guy swaying over her.

“Dudeeeee are you alright? You took a nasty fall…” the nameless, rat moustached drunkard slurred.

Jenny didn’t care to answer. As she faded out of consciousness, the last thing she was aware of was that her blood was mixing with the ale on the floor.

******************************************************************************

The next day, Jenny awoke in her dorm to a buzzing in her ears and a massive headache.

Groaning, she rolled over and pressed a pillow against her head.

“What happened last night?” she thought.

“Self-Sabotage”

Comedy of Errors

It was odd. She had been blackout drunk before, but never had she had no memory of what had happened. It was like there was a vast, expansive black hole in her memory, completely blotting out all memories from last night. Shards of memory poked through, little things. The scream of a wasted girl. The thumping feeling of her skull hitting something, multiple things, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what. The frustration gnawed at her, causing her to groan and give up. Twelve missing hours wouldn’t affect the fact that she had class at 10, and if she wanted to get coffee to relive this terrible hangover, she would have to get going.

After a struggle to function, Jenny was outside wearing her typical off-white sweater, brown boots, wool beanie and walking to the Starbucks on campus. She had already placed her insanely overpriced order (Caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream), and she was currently doing the famous ‘hungover shuffle’ across campus.

‘This’ll make things better’ she thought as she entered the Starbucks.

“Hey Jenny! What brings you back so soon?” her favorite barista, Ani asked.

Jenny frowned, her nose wrinkling.

“You must be mistaken, Ani. I’ve been passed out for the past… well twelve hours.” she responded.

Now it was Ani’s turn to frown.

“Oh? But I could’ve sworn that you just came in a couple moments ago. Caramel macchiato, right?”

Jenny looked at Ani, confusion written plainly on her face.

‘Is this some kind of prank?” she thought.

“I ordered online though, Ani. This is the first time I’ve come in all morning.” Jenny said slowly.

A flicker of unease went through Ani’s eyes as she checked the to-go orders. She laughed a little when she saw Jenny’s cup among them.

“Well doesn’t that beat it all? To be fair, I just kind of assumed it was you. The girl who came in was wearing a mask, a wide brim hat, absolutely no skin to be seen. I get that it’s cold, but even then, I wondered why she was going all out like that. Come to think of it, she didn’t really talk, just came in and ordered her drink and left as quickly as she came. The main reason I

“Self-Sabotage”

Comedy of Errors

thought she was you was because she gave her name as Jenny, and her eyes. They sparkle just like yours, all blue and full of, well, all full of worry. But hey, what do I know? I’m just an old woman, I see thousands of young girls every day, these mix-ups are bound to happen. Especially since all you get is a Caramel Macchiato.” Ani said jokingly, before handing Jenny her drink.

Jenny thanked her and walked out. It was strange, she thought that Ani knew her well enough to not confuse her for someone else. A shiver ran down her spine.

“This is weird,” a tiny voice in her head whispered.

“Oh shut up,” Jenny said aloud.

She looked around, making sure no one had heard her. Jenny lived with anxiety though, and she was used to shutting down worrisome thoughts like that. Had to be, if she wanted to not spiral into the dark place. The place she went when she was younger. It had been years of her learning to control, to tame the anxiety inside her, to not fall prey to the spiral that so often consumed her. All of this to say, it’s best to shut down that nagging little voice in her head now, rather than entertain the notion that something more could be happening.

As she trudged into her English class, she checked her email and saw that her professor had asked her to stay after class to talk about her paper. How curious. She took her seat in the back of the room and nursed her macchiato, praying that her hangover would cease.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

At the end of class, she walked up to Professor Dismukes, her gait slightly less stilted than before.

“You asked to see me, sir?” she asked.

Professor Dismukes looked up from his papers, a faint look of disappointment in his eyes.

“Ah yes, Jenny. I wanted to talk to you about your paper that you turned in. The Women of Shakespeare, yes?” he asked.

“Yes, I worked really hard on that one, sir.” Jenny responded.

Professor Dismukes tutted, giving Jenny a sense of unease.

“That’s strange Jenny. I called you in because this is the worst paper I’ve ever received from you. I was genuinely shocked. I was wondering if you turned in a rough draft by mistake?

This doesn’t match your normal work.” he said.

“Self-Sabotage”

Comedy of Errors

A wave of panic rolled over Jenny.

“Breathe Jenny, breathe. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this.”

“I’ll check my submission right now, sir.” she said, her voice even despite the growing sense of panic.

She pulled out her laptop, and after putting in her password she saw that the last thing she had pulled up was her submission. She opened it, and what she saw puzzled her. Her final essay was there, but the content was different. She hadn't written this essay. The words scattered across the page were not hers. Her thoughts that she spent so much time writing down vanished.

Gone. As if they blew off the page in the wind. How could this happen? She swore she worked on this essay last Wednesday. Or was it Friday? Tuesday? She couldn't remember, her head throbbing with the afterglow of the horrid hangover.

“You’re right sir. That is my submission. But I didn't write this.”

“Well then, who did? Someone turned this paper in to me.” He exclaimed.

“Sir I have no idea.” Jenny said, her face dropping to the floor.

“Here's what I'll do. Since you have such a good track record in my class, I’ll let you return in the paper. Have it on my desk in two days.” He said, turning around in his office chair.

“Now if you will excuse me, I have some essays to grade, you may be off now.”

“Thank you sir. I’ll get it to you by then. Thank You.” Jenny said with a hopeful smile.

She walked out of the class in a rush toward her dorm. Scurrying across the courtyard toward her room she bulldozed through the afternoon crowd.

“Breathe Jenny. It's okay. It will all be okay. We just have to retype what we had written, it won't take longer than 3 hours, I ca---” “Jenny! Come over here!” A familiar voice cried out in the distance. This voice wasn't just crying for attention from a friend. It seemed to have more emotion and not a happy one either.

Jenny immediately put the face to the voice. It was her boyfriend Christian. His voice boomed over the bustle of campus life. It rang in her head clear as day.

“We are done. I can't even believe you. I knew things between us were hard, but I can't believe you would do something like this to me.” He said, voice still echoing in Jenny’s headspace.

“What are you talking about? I don’t believe I did anything wrong.” She pleaded.

“Self-Sabotage”

Comedy of Errors

“Anything wrong? You don't think you did anything wrong? What’s this then!” He says practically screaming at this point. He turns his phone to show a look alike of Jenny kissing some frat boy.

“Okay. Calm down and breathe, there has to be some kind of misunderstanding.” she thought, her hands balling up, squeezing for some kind of support.

“Is this a prank? This has to be some kind of test. That's not me. I went to the party, yes.

But that can't be me. It can't be.” Jenny’s voice grew desperate. “You have to believe me. This is all just some misunderstanding.”

“How can I believe you when the picture is right here Jenny? You always do this. I need to take a break. I’ll talk to you later.” Christian said as he scuffled off into the sea of tired, low life college students.

“Okay what the hell. That's not me. I know it wasn't. But she looked so alike. How is this even possible” Jenny’s voice cracked as she began to cry, sliding to her knees in the middle of the courtyard. No one in the yard cared for Jenny. No one ran up to comfort her. To them, she was just another stressed, college student who would get over whatever she was dealing with in a few minutes.

Jenny wiped the tears off her face. Stood up and ran toward her dorm. Surrounded by people, she had never felt more alone. As she pushed through the crowd, her face streaked with tears, she saw a figure up ahead. She wore the exact same off white sweater, blue mom jeans, and brown boots as Jenny. A red scarf and sunglasses obscured the figure’s face. The figure lowered the sunglasses to reveal sparkling blue eyes. The eyes though, they weren’t sparkling with anxiety, electrically charged with fear. No, they were sparkling with amusement. With mirth.

Ice cold rage flowed through Jenny. The figure looked at her and winked, before disappearing into the throng of people. Jenny picked up her pace, desperate to catch up with this elusive figure.

As she pursued her through the crowd, she came to her dorm. Angrily, she threw the door open.

The woman was sitting in her chair, facing the window. In her hand was a mug full of coffee.

“What do you want from me?!” Jenny screamed.

The woman turned around and gave her a condescending smile.

“Isn't it obvious dear?” she asked, and Jenny took a step back in shock.

“Self-Sabotage”

Comedy of Errors

Her voice was exactly like Jenny’s.

The double strode over to her, still holding the mug.

“I want to destroy you.”

Lightning fast, she threw the contents of the steaming mug in Jenny’s face. Red hot pain flashed, and her vision blurred. Jenny fell to the floor, shrieking. Quick as a whip, the double was on top of her. Her hands were on her neck, strangling her. Chokingly, Jenny clawed at her forearms, drawing blood. Scarlet droplets dripped onto the blank canvas of her sweater. Jenny tried to scream, but her voice was cut off by the slender fingers encircling her throat.

“Think Jenny, think. What can you do to get her off you?” she thought frantically.

Suddenly, she saw that the mug was discarded on the floor next to her. Straining, she moved to grab it. The double was so focused on her face, so manically gleeful at the sight of the deep purple color that had shaded her normally pale face, that she didn’t even see it coming. The mug shattered as she hit the double with it, and the shards fell wildly as the double toppled off of her. Gasping for air, Jenny grabbed a large shard and threatened the double with it.

“Stay back! Stay back or I’ll stab you!” she cries shrilly.

The double looked back at her, the manic joy receding in her eyes to cold calculation. She took a few strides towards Jenny. Jenny wildly swung the shard around, cutting through air. She stopped a few inches away from Jenny, so close their noses were practically touching.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jenny whispered.

The double smiled.

“Every why hath a wherefore.” the double replied.

They stood still.

Then a flash of movement. Jenny’s face contorted wildly as she stuck the shard in the stomach of the double. The double, however, remained perfectly calm. Deftly, she pulled the shard out of her stomach, blood staining the white porcelain. Blood dripped on the gray carpet, blotting it like some modern artwork. Silently she went to the door. As she walked out, she said one last thing.

“Look down.”

“Self-Sabotage”

Comedy of Errors

Jenny looked down. Her sweater had a blooming scarlet blood stain seeping through the stomach portion. Gasping, Jenny put her hands to cover the wound. She stumbled to her phone, which had miraculously not broken on impact. Trembling, she dialed 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

Jenny took a deep breath.

“I was just attacked and stabbed in my dorm.”

“Are you injured?” the operator asked.

Jenny let out a hysterical shrieking laugh. The laughter ripped out of her, filling the apartment. She started rocking back and forth, shrieking as though this was the most hilarious question she’d ever been asked.

“Ma’am, what’s going on?” the operator inquired, for the first time betraying a hint of disturbance.

Jenny cackled, before biting down on her hand to quell the laughter. The laughter receded.

“Nothing. Yes, I’m injured. I’ve been stabbed in the stomach, my wrists are scratched raw, and my hand is bleeding.”

As the call wore on and the operator gave her general instructions, and assured her that help was on the way, Jenny felt her psyche break more & more. Her anxiety had been right, and absolutely no one would ever believe her. The dark place was real, and it was populated with her.

Talk about self-sabotage.

“Ma’am what did your attacker look like?” the operator asked.

Jenny didn’t laugh this time. She looked out the window, and saw her reflection. Only it wasn’t her reflection anymore. It was the double. The double smiled at her and winked. Jenny leaned her head back on the wall and sighed.

“She looked exactly like me.”

“Self-Sabotage”

Comedy of Errors

Jennifer ‘Jenny’ Smith is having a weird day. She goes and gets coffee at Starbucks only to discover another Jennifer Smith got her drink. Shrugging it off, she goes to school and finds out that she has failed her term paper, but the paper they show her isn’t the one she wrote. She then is confronted by her boyfriend, who accuses her of cheating on him. Jenny tries to calm him down, only to discover that her boyfriend has a photo of Jenny kissing another person.

The problem is, Jenny has no recollection of doing this and doesn’t know the person in the photo. Now, Jenny is hellbent on figuring out what is going on. As the story progresses, Jenny becomes more and more ‘crazy’. When she’s walking to her dorm, she sees a version of herself walking down the street. The version turns to her and winks. Jenny pursues the clone but loses her. When she gets to her dorm, she goes to her room, only to be attacked by the clone.

Jenny calls the police only to answer the many many questions that came with saying she was attacked by herself.

“The Hermia Dream“

The Hermia Dream Rowan B. Christian D. Rachel H. Sydney O. Christian S.

While others predestine my future I work towards my own destiny That is carved from the previous suture That I endured from the question he Always put upon my shoulders.

“This man hath my consent to marry her.”

Is what they said towards me When I tried to express the feelings that were Found within the destiny that I want to see So I shall keep up with what others might smolder

For who would I be without my choices?

Shall I conform to fool’s prayer, My thoughts their voices?

What empty promise serves me there, When home is the person for which I care?

Jinxed dreams bewitched my eyes They tell beautiful stories And incredulous lies I took it to heart with ease

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“The Hermia Dream“

Amidst mischief and magic, one needs falsities

What I have been offered None do I wish to choose but my own I would rather not let traditions of my family Hold me back from my own dreams Even if that means breaking the rules Of society’s expectations and My family’s

Why should I marry someone so I can settle Down and carry on the lifestyle of my family When I dream of something different.

It is worth running towards my love Even if I lose all the privileges I have Or lose my life rather than Losing myself and conforming to expectations I do not hold myself to

Why is love so superficial I want to marry for true love Rather than for prestige

Can this world I’m in change So my longing for love can be fulfilled

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“The Hermia Dream“

The destiny that is set for me Is not the one that I want for myself If I could only live in a different world Where I do not have to worry about Who I please and displease I see life as something that is so so short and valuable That I should not have to be told who I show love or not

My love is mine to give away How can someone else decide The one that’s meant to be with me Two halves of one mind The choice it must be mine

Thoughts of my future Keep me awake at night Will I be responsible For the choices in my life Or are they in other hands?

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“The Hermia Dream“

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

We decided to take inspiration from the play A Midsummer Night’s Dream and depict aspects of one’s choice to marry based off of Hermia’s predicament. Our poem portrays feminism in Hermia’s soliloquy of being forced to marry Demetrius or else be forced into nunnery or death. In this case, Hermia had her choices made for her and she wanted to go against it. We wanted to portray mainly Hermia’s feelings and thoughts that people from the modern era can understand and agree with, as they have to go through their past experiences in order to understand themselves. Although it won’t represent everyone because everyone is different, we know that relationships are not always straightforward as easy as it seems in the movies.

“The Twisting of the Shrew“

The Taming of the Shrew

The Twisting of the Shrew Ethan S. Sophie S, Isabella D. Rebecca J. Meg S.

I look around the room, shaking, soaked in blood, with the knife still in my hand, marveling at what I’ve done. My husband’s lifeless body lying on the floor next to me. I don’t have time to be stunned, I have to think fast. I take a deep breath, and think, if I’m to get out of this I need to cover my tracks. Quickly, I clean the blood off of the knife. I sneak out into the hallway and make sure no one is around. Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I peek into my sister's room where she and her husband are sound asleep. I carefully open the door, sure to not make a sound, and place the knife in her closet. I slip out as seamlessly as I came in. Now for the body. I have to get rid of it before everyone wakes up. I drop him out the window, run down the hallway, and run down the stairs to where the body fell. As I leave, I grab my horse and come across the body. When I get to him, I throw him atop my trusty steed. I ride to the nearby river and toss him in. When I finish, I start to think about what I’ve done the past few days and I wonder, was this all worth it?

(Flashback to about one week ago) Bianca admires Katherine’s beautiful dress as she walks back down the aisle to the reception. Bianca follows behind with Lucentio in her arms, and they take their seats at the reception. Bianca admires her sister, with just a hint of jealousy. Bianca loved Lucentio, but she's grown tired of him. This relationship wasn’t everything she thought it’d be, and she didn’t want to play the typical role of a housewife. She can’t believe her shrew of a sister was able to land a man like Petruchio with no effort when Bianca has worked so hard to get a man who cherishes her, but Lucentio isn’t that man. Bianca approaches her father and expresses her concern, she’d had enough of Lucentio, she isn’t appreciated enough. She asked her father if she could get out of her soon-to-be marriage, and he said there was no way, he said he’d already announced “My daughter Katherine is to be married, now on the Sunday following so shall Bianca” (Act 2, Scene

“The Twisting of the Shrew“

The Taming of the Shrew

1, Line 415). She was trapped for life. No way out. Katherine seemed happy, but there was a hint of a frown on her face, was she happy this way; bonded for life? Only time would tell. Would this marriage continue or would it grow old and boring similar to Bianca’s. She’d just finished her toast “thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper” (act 5, Scene 2, line 162), but is this really how she felt?

(The following Sunday) It was Bianca and Lucentio's turn. They were to be wed later that night. Bianca has always wanted to be married and she’d looked forward to this day since she was a little girl, but now that it was happening she couldn’t tell if it was what she wanted. To be tied down into this repetitive lifestyle with the same person day and day again. However it was too late now, she’d gone too far. Tonight she was to be married to Lucentio with no way out. There once was a time where their relationship seemed refreshing and pure compared to her sister’s, but Lucentio’s poetic instincts and theatrical love caused Bianca to rebel against the traditional roles of a wife.

After all, it was Katherine who always said father wanted us to “wed to one half lunatic” (act 2, scene 1, line 304) Well here it was, the wedding, everyone gathered around waiting for the big moment. Bianca seemed happy throughout the night, but there was an emptiness in her eyes.

Finally, the night was done and Bianca, seemingly relieved, stumbled to bed.

(The next morning) When everyone awoke, Bianca became worried. Where was her husband? She asked the guard walking the hall if he’d seen anything and he said no. He was uncertain where her husband was. Katherine awoke soon after and said she hadn’t seen him either. He’d probably gotten up early to take a walk. Bianca went to get breakfast, not too concerned. However once it reached the afternoon she began to panic, where had he gone?

(Later that night) During supper, a guard barged in saying someone had found Lucentio's body on a bank down the river. Bianca was stunned… she couldn’t think, just cry.

All of a sudden, Bianca hears a yell from across the hall. A knife has been found in Katherine’s closet.

“The Twisting of the Shrew“

The Taming of the Shrew

We wanted to spin Bianca and Kathrine’s characters, so Bianca would turn into someone who resented marriage and Kathrine would end up in a happy marriage. In the play, Bianca tries hard to be the perfect wife and very proper, while Kathrine is a “shrew”; she's difficult and argumentative. In our version, however, we wanted Bianca to reverse the traditional gender role and not want to be wed, while Katherine, who was mean and careless, ends up in a happy marriage. We wanted to reverse the roles from the start. In our adaptation of the story, Bianca is extremely upset and wants out of the marriage so kills her husband in a furious rage and frames her sister. She blames her because she believes that her sister doesn’t deserve her marriage to Petruchio. We thought we’d make an issue and dramatize it a bit more.