Month: December 2018

Today, I want to talk about impressions. Not the imitation sort, but the “this is what I think about this” type of impressions. What people think about us plays a huge part in our lives, primarily what bad they may think if you do something wrong. We spend so much time troubling ourselves over little imperfections that they might notice that we completely overlook all of our winning traits, which are, ironically, usually what they do notice. There’s an amazing balance to it — no, Thanos, not that type of balance, what are you doing here? Go bother some other planet. — Anyhow, it seems poetic that in ourselves we see the bad, the flaws and mistakes, but in us others see all the good that we cannot.

This was something I first really encountered four(ish) years ago, when my dad fished up a blog post from a friend of mine about the day we met. I hadn’t thought much of it, but she must have, because it warranted what transfers to Google Docs as a solid three and a half pages. There was something extraordinarily enticing about reading someone’s honest opinion of me.

On that note, I’d like to call out Cheshire Moon and thank them for Apple, a personalized version of their song Critters. It, just like that blog post, was a moving reminder of the good that others see, even when I can’t, and there is a uniqueness to the inspiration I get from both of them, not as a call to be more, but as a reminder of what I already am, and to not lose sight of that in the midst of the bad.

Well, it’s that time of year again. The season of giving and peace and reflecting on the past year and planning for the next. This week I have no long, rambling discussion for you, just a link to a thematically appropriate video I enjoy. I’ve spoken about Peter Hollens before, and the fact that he’s namely a cover artist, but a couple years ago he wrote a song called the December Song, which talks about the joy and peace of Christmas, and, more importantly, asks why it can’t be like that all the time. It’s a powerful piece that I hope you’ll enjoy.

Happy holidays to you all!

Well, last week I promised examples of the short story cliffhanger writing style, and here they are. These are my two best (of like four). First, the very first of these I wrote for that prompt, “Stone”:

“Mom!” I complained as she turned Leroy to a useless pile of rocks. “He was gonna keep our secret! I made him promise!”

“Honestly Dear, how many times have I told you not to bring people here?”

“A….” I stopped.

“Well? I’m waiting!”

“A….” I started again, then shook my head and walked away. Behind me I heard her take a sledgehammer to Leroy’s statue. That’s my mother. Always paranoid. That’s because people are afraid of her ability to turn them to stone. Have you guessed who she is? That’s right, my mother is none other than Medusa. I know what you’re thinking: If she’s your mom, than who’s your dad? His name is Perseus.

The second one was on the prompt “Breathing,” which I followed much more loosely. (“Stone” was just too easy to work with, “Breathing” is a harder one to interest a tween, as I was when I wrote these.)

I ran fast to where Kirby lay. My heart was pounding in my ears, desperate to find comfort. Please, I thought, let him not be dead. I quickly put my ear to his chest. Yes, I thought, relieved. He’s still breathing. I sat next to him for a moment, then realized he was still dying and picked him up. I grunted, then started walking, wobbly under his weight. I’m not sure what enabled me to carry my brother that day, but it saved his life. I got him to my parents and they called an ambulance. I’m the only one that knows what almost killed him, and I’ll never tell.

Ironically, this post on prompted stories was prompted by a discussion with a friend of mine. See, I like to write long tales, with each character’s story drawn out in my head to get the depths of the motivations and the personality. It helps me allow my characters to jump out at me, noting that most of these never get written, so it’s really a matter of thoughts. By having those characters, certain events and emotions trigger a familiarity reaction that draws me back to them, and so their story continues or is rewritten as I need it to be to express the given moment. From this writing perspective, it means that I like reading or watching series where the characters have time to develop and really connect to the audience.

My friend had the flip perspective: short stories. As she explained, there was something undeniably ingenious about the way they left you hanging at the end, wondering how they got there and what happened next. Like the cliffhanger of a chapter or the hook before the title credits roll, except that in these stories, you don’t get an answer. It’s open for your interpretation and speculation. My initial reaction was to consider the writing style I spoke of above: the drawn out works of everything, so that no question remains unanswered. Of course I didn’t write these shorter stories!

But then I looked back at some of my old Google Docs. The one that caught my eye was titled “Story Prompts.” And this was when I remembered; I did use that writing style. I had started with some writing contest (long lost in the depths of my computer) that I wasn’t allowed to enter in because I was too young. It had a ridiculously small word limit and a one word prompt. I used their prompt, “Stone,” and, hungry for more, pulled up a word generator. The result were prompted mini stories, that, on my rereading, seem more like story prompts themselves, or maybe teasers for something longer.

Two of my own examples next week!