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Tara starts to explain that Noel is a “raving” something-or-other, and the way she makes a big O with her lips suggests that maybe the word “homosexual” was going to follow. Either that or “ornithologist.” But Claire stomps off, so Tara doesn't get to finish her sentence.

Ground rules — The writers are having a little get-together. The owner/manager/headmistress of the retreat is telling them how everything works. Her name is Maggie, but I like to call her Craggy, because she seems like she's been hewn from the side of a bluff. I'm not casting aspersions on her appearance: She's just tough. Rugged. Butch in an old-school way.

Craggy: Most of the locals know that we're just a bunch of loony chicks writing our guts out, trying to find the meaning … of … life.

Craggy is often elliptical. I guess maybe she's trying to put forth some dramatic pauses. (I tend to assume that every inexplicable thespian technique in this movie is intended to be impressively dramatic or tantalizingly erotic, but I'm sure I'm being too generous.)

Craggy: Just remember, girls, when you're having one of those blocks: We … are here … to work.
Tara: All work and no play —
Craggy: Usually gets published.

Craggy then explains that twice a week, they have “trash meets”: discussions on “everything from syntax to Playtex.” They're optional for the writers, of course. Sadly, they're not optional for us.

That's all for now, says Craggy: “Any questions?” Nobody has any questions, so Craggy makes a big show of taking a swig of the beer she's had stashed on the mantel this entire time. If you've seen Moments:The Making of Claire of the Moon, you know that she's making a big show of it because the first few times she tried, she kept missing her mouth.

In my room — Claire is hanging out in her room, cranking up her boom box, rockin' out in her tank top and jeans. She pulls out a black-and-white photo of the guy she was writhing under at the beginning of the film, shakes her head and tosses it into the wastebasket. That's right: She's a free spirit, a swinging single and she enjoys being a girl — can't you tell by the gusto with which she's filing her nails?

Noel, on the other hand, was never very good with loud music. We know this because she barges in and announces as much. Claire turns down her tunes, and then invites Noel to tag along with her to “check out the local color.”

Noel: Thanks, but I —
Claire: You're dedicated, upright and disciplined.
Noel: [blank stare]
Claire: So am I. But only when the mood strikes me.

Ooooh. This is such a revelatory scene: Clearly, Claire is a handful. She's mercurial, contradictory and sure of herself. Doesn't it just make her all the more fascinating?

Noel can only sigh, and then pick up a copy of the book that's close at hand. It happens to be Claire's.

Noel: That's it. You wrote Life Can Ruin Your Hair.
Claire: [nodding] It's been around.
Noel: I saw you on Oprah.
Claire: [tossing the book aside] Sells copy. Did you … read it?
Noel: [shaking her head and shrugging]
Claire: No. It wouldn't be your genre.
Noel: Great title.
Claire: It seemed appropriate at the time. I was deeply miserable at therapy.
Noel: It has been known to have that effect.

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