They say you should write what you know.
What I know is people. I know deep, multi-dimensional, imperfectly perfect people. I see the outer shell that they share with the world, and I feel the inner workings that they strive so hard to conceal. I understand the fears and joys and struggles and celebrations and mistakes and successes that make them who they are, and I love them for all of it.
I know sensitive, intelligent, real life people who may or may not appreciate me writing about what I know.
I have a story in me. I know that I do. I have a tale to tell that will speak to others and evoke emotion. I have a story about people.
And one day, I hope to be able to write well enough to express the beautiful imperfections of my people in a way that clearly shows how their lives have awed and inspired me. That their mistakes are part of what make them so dear to me. In a way that illustrates just how deep my love for them truly is. I want my people to see themselves from my point of view.
Someday, my word magic will be strong enough to tackle this task.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
The Visitor - Quick Write 10/5/10
(25 minutes of writing, 5 minutes of editing. The first half of the first sentence was the prompt.)
- - - -
It was late on a Thursday evening, and Janice was just getting home from the gym. It had been a long and frustrating day. She was exhausted and very much looking forward to putting on her pj's, flopping down on the couch, and communing with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. As she fumbled with the key for the outer door, she noticed a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. Resisting her body's initial "fight or flight" reaction, she crouched down on the stoop and peered into the darkness. The dim light above the door was unable to pierce the gloom around the bushes. She couldn't see anything.
"Hello? Is there somebody down there?" Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the key-chain in her hand. If the noise turned out to be something dangerous, she could use a key as a weapon. After several moments of silence, the lure of her cozy apartment overcame her curiosity. She stood up.
There was another brief rustle from bushes, and a tiny orange kitten poked his nose out of the darkness.
"Mreow?" The kitten had clearly been on his own for some time. His ribs were evident along his sides, and the fur on his belly was matted with dirt. His starved body gave him the appearance of a bobble-head doll. "Mew!" Janice knelt down carefully to avoid startling the furry little visitor. She slowly reached her hand out toward him, but resisted actually touching him. The kitten took a quick step backward and huddled closer to the ground.
"Don't worry, little one. I'm not going to hurt you." Janice kept her voice low and calm. The kitten inched toward her, and gently touched one fingertip with his nose. He twitched backward slightly, but held his ground. "Aren't you a brave, little sweetheart?" Janice continued to croon to the kitten until he decided she was safe. Suddenly, he threw his entire body against her hand. He rubbed his bobbley head against her fingers. Looking up, he opened his tiny mouth. "Mew! Mreow! Mew!" She could see his pink tongue and sharp little baby teeth.
Janice swooped the kitten up in her hands and snuggled him to her face. His whiskers tickled her chin as he nuzzled her neck enthusiastically. "Poor baby! You must be starving! Let's go inside and get you some yummy milk. Then we can give you a nice bath and get you all cleaned up." The kitten began to purr loudly in agreement with this plan. Janice retrieved her keys and gym bag from the steps where she had dropped them and opened the door. "What are we going to call you? Such a handsome, orange kitty needs a good name! Hmm... maybe Rex or..." As she and the kitten disappeared into the golden light of the entryway, her voice faded away.
Suddenly Janice was feeling a lot better about her day.
- - - -
I made a conscious effort to write a positive, upbeat story today. I also made an attempt at having a clear beginning, middle, and end. I really enjoy these quick writes, but I think they allow me to get away with lots of build up (something that comes easy to me) while completely avoiding any kind of climax (something that is very difficult for me). These exercises are supposed to be helping me develop my writing, so I'm going to try to make myself stretch a little more in the future. Of course, Mikey says I should just take a page from Stephen King's book and have a giant spider come in and attack everyone. (Has anyone else noticed that a large percentage of his stories end that way?) :)
- - - -
It was late on a Thursday evening, and Janice was just getting home from the gym. It had been a long and frustrating day. She was exhausted and very much looking forward to putting on her pj's, flopping down on the couch, and communing with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. As she fumbled with the key for the outer door, she noticed a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. Resisting her body's initial "fight or flight" reaction, she crouched down on the stoop and peered into the darkness. The dim light above the door was unable to pierce the gloom around the bushes. She couldn't see anything.
"Hello? Is there somebody down there?" Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the key-chain in her hand. If the noise turned out to be something dangerous, she could use a key as a weapon. After several moments of silence, the lure of her cozy apartment overcame her curiosity. She stood up.
There was another brief rustle from bushes, and a tiny orange kitten poked his nose out of the darkness.
"Mreow?" The kitten had clearly been on his own for some time. His ribs were evident along his sides, and the fur on his belly was matted with dirt. His starved body gave him the appearance of a bobble-head doll. "Mew!" Janice knelt down carefully to avoid startling the furry little visitor. She slowly reached her hand out toward him, but resisted actually touching him. The kitten took a quick step backward and huddled closer to the ground.
"Don't worry, little one. I'm not going to hurt you." Janice kept her voice low and calm. The kitten inched toward her, and gently touched one fingertip with his nose. He twitched backward slightly, but held his ground. "Aren't you a brave, little sweetheart?" Janice continued to croon to the kitten until he decided she was safe. Suddenly, he threw his entire body against her hand. He rubbed his bobbley head against her fingers. Looking up, he opened his tiny mouth. "Mew! Mreow! Mew!" She could see his pink tongue and sharp little baby teeth.
Janice swooped the kitten up in her hands and snuggled him to her face. His whiskers tickled her chin as he nuzzled her neck enthusiastically. "Poor baby! You must be starving! Let's go inside and get you some yummy milk. Then we can give you a nice bath and get you all cleaned up." The kitten began to purr loudly in agreement with this plan. Janice retrieved her keys and gym bag from the steps where she had dropped them and opened the door. "What are we going to call you? Such a handsome, orange kitty needs a good name! Hmm... maybe Rex or..." As she and the kitten disappeared into the golden light of the entryway, her voice faded away.
Suddenly Janice was feeling a lot better about her day.
- - - -
I made a conscious effort to write a positive, upbeat story today. I also made an attempt at having a clear beginning, middle, and end. I really enjoy these quick writes, but I think they allow me to get away with lots of build up (something that comes easy to me) while completely avoiding any kind of climax (something that is very difficult for me). These exercises are supposed to be helping me develop my writing, so I'm going to try to make myself stretch a little more in the future. Of course, Mikey says I should just take a page from Stephen King's book and have a giant spider come in and attack everyone. (Has anyone else noticed that a large percentage of his stories end that way?) :)
Monday, October 04, 2010
Billy's Escape - Quick Write 10/4/10
(As usual, the first sentence was the prompt, and I spent about 20 minutes writing and 5 minutes editing afterward.)
- - - -
The poison was coursing through the tall man's veins. He look at Billy in shock and swayed slightly from side to side. The spent syringe fell from Billy's numb fingers. The clatter it made echoed through the cold, concrete room.
Time stood still for an eternity.
Finally, the tall man reached out his right arm and tried to take a step toward Billy. His left leg gave way, and he crumpled to the floor, his arm still outstretched. Billy stared down at the long, lifeless body that for so long had controlled his entire world. He knew he should run, get away, put as much distance between himself and the brutal events of this place as he could, but his feet refused to move. The tall man seemed to be controlling him still. Billy felt as though he would be frozen here, next to the tall man's body, forever. Eventually, the tall man would be missed - at work, if not at home - and the police would be called. They would find Billy here, discover what he had done, and lock him away in a deep, dark cell forever. Just like the tall man had always said would happen.
"NO!" Billy jumped at the sound of his own voice shattering the unnatural stillness. That slight movement was enough to break the tall man's hold on him. He had been through too much to give up now. With his own shout still echoing after him, Billy turned and fled.
Daylight was just beginning to fade as Billy burst through the entrance of the building. He glanced around without slowing and veered off to the right. He circled around the enormous building and lost himself among the abandoned junkyard, boarded up metal shops, and dimly lit warehouses that were so prevalent in this area. He ran until he thought his lungs would burst.
Just when he thought he couldn't force his legs to take another step, he spotted a familiar corner. Within minutes, he was climbing the rusted chain-link fence surrounding the old, forgotten playground where he had so often sought refuge from the tall man's temper. He climbed up the ladder of the splintered climbing equipment. Panting in equal parts exhaustion and relief, he threw himself into the nest of newspapers and leaves he had so long ago made for himself at the top of the slide.
No one ever came to this park. Billy figured that everyone had forgotten all about it as the industrial park had slowly devoured the housing tracts that used to occupy these blocks. Comforted by the isolation and lulled by the hum and rumble of the few factories that were still struggling against their inevitable demise, Billy closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
- - - -
I'm starting to think that I spent too much time in my youth reading Stephen King and Dean Koontz. Every story starter seems to suggest horrific events and terrifying people. I am glad I don't have to write the rest of this story because I am afraid to find out what horrors the tall man inflicted on our poor Billy.
- - - -
The poison was coursing through the tall man's veins. He look at Billy in shock and swayed slightly from side to side. The spent syringe fell from Billy's numb fingers. The clatter it made echoed through the cold, concrete room.
Time stood still for an eternity.
Finally, the tall man reached out his right arm and tried to take a step toward Billy. His left leg gave way, and he crumpled to the floor, his arm still outstretched. Billy stared down at the long, lifeless body that for so long had controlled his entire world. He knew he should run, get away, put as much distance between himself and the brutal events of this place as he could, but his feet refused to move. The tall man seemed to be controlling him still. Billy felt as though he would be frozen here, next to the tall man's body, forever. Eventually, the tall man would be missed - at work, if not at home - and the police would be called. They would find Billy here, discover what he had done, and lock him away in a deep, dark cell forever. Just like the tall man had always said would happen.
"NO!" Billy jumped at the sound of his own voice shattering the unnatural stillness. That slight movement was enough to break the tall man's hold on him. He had been through too much to give up now. With his own shout still echoing after him, Billy turned and fled.
Daylight was just beginning to fade as Billy burst through the entrance of the building. He glanced around without slowing and veered off to the right. He circled around the enormous building and lost himself among the abandoned junkyard, boarded up metal shops, and dimly lit warehouses that were so prevalent in this area. He ran until he thought his lungs would burst.
Just when he thought he couldn't force his legs to take another step, he spotted a familiar corner. Within minutes, he was climbing the rusted chain-link fence surrounding the old, forgotten playground where he had so often sought refuge from the tall man's temper. He climbed up the ladder of the splintered climbing equipment. Panting in equal parts exhaustion and relief, he threw himself into the nest of newspapers and leaves he had so long ago made for himself at the top of the slide.
No one ever came to this park. Billy figured that everyone had forgotten all about it as the industrial park had slowly devoured the housing tracts that used to occupy these blocks. Comforted by the isolation and lulled by the hum and rumble of the few factories that were still struggling against their inevitable demise, Billy closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
- - - -
I'm starting to think that I spent too much time in my youth reading Stephen King and Dean Koontz. Every story starter seems to suggest horrific events and terrifying people. I am glad I don't have to write the rest of this story because I am afraid to find out what horrors the tall man inflicted on our poor Billy.
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