Journalism
Write part of a story in the form of journal entries. Everything that happens in the story will most likely happen between the entries. Make sure your readers can see the events offstage, but also remember to present your journalist's blind spots - she/he will not present the whole story. Your journal writer may not even understand the significance of events until a few entries later (if ever). Keep the entries close together in time. Avoid completely self-obsessed narrators.
Wordcount: 700 (+/- 10%)
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Challenge 4: Jimmy Likes
Jimmy sits on the bank at the edge of the lake, watching ducks. There is an old Asian couple with bread and they keep stealing the ducks away. They will be gone soon enough though, which is good.
I like being alone.
Jimmy digs in the dirt beside his foot with a stick. It is soft and a bit muddy from the rain last night.
I like rain.
He knows his mother will probably be angry when she sees the mud on his trousers, but not too angry. She gives him dark pants so he won’t look like such a mess all the time. He imagines, after his mother has scolded him, she will let him help her load the washing machine.
I like the way the bubbles swirl around.
He will probably sit for the whole wash cycle, just watching them.
Jimmy hears his mother calling and runs back through the overgrown section at the back of his house.
I like the feeling of grass tickling my ankles.
“James,” she says. “There you are.”
Jimmy smiles, holding his arms wide for a hug. His mother scoops him up, holding him close. Something is wrong. She hasn’t told him off for being at the lake again, or for the mud on his bum. He wraps his chubby arms around her neck, burying his head against her shoulder. There is a big man at the kitchen table. He is eating the lemon slice.
Jimmy’s mother puts him down and he keeps one hand on her skirt while swiping the last piece of slice with the other. His mother doesn’t scold him. He hides behind her leg and munches on the slice.
I like how lemons make my eyes water.
“Is this the Quinn boy?”
“I…”
Jimmy knows they are talking about him. He peers up at the man, in his brown jacket and tweed trousers.
I don’t like grown-ups who think they know everything.
“He is their last heir, Gwendolin...”
“He is my son.”
“Don’t you want a bit of payback on that bastard? You’ll make us both rich.”
Jimmy doesn’t like this man. He is making mother nervous. Jimmy backs up, thinking he might just go to his room until the angry man is gone.
“Get him back here,” the tweedy man growls.
Jimmy starts to run, out into the hall way, down the front steps, out onto the street where his mother’s beat up old Beetle sits, unlocked. Jimmy climbs inside, curling up on the front seat. There are angry voices inside the house and then a long silence, punctuated by a loud bang. Jimmy curls up tighter.
I like the smell of mum’s perfume on the leather.
After a long time, Jimmy’s mother jumps in the driver’s side and revs the engine.
“Let’s go on holiday,” she says. “How about France?”
“As long as we’re not taking that angry man.”
His mother shakes her head as she speeds off down the gravely road. “He won’t be following us.”
I like when me and mum play runaway.
Wordcount: 510
I like being alone.
Jimmy digs in the dirt beside his foot with a stick. It is soft and a bit muddy from the rain last night.
I like rain.
He knows his mother will probably be angry when she sees the mud on his trousers, but not too angry. She gives him dark pants so he won’t look like such a mess all the time. He imagines, after his mother has scolded him, she will let him help her load the washing machine.
I like the way the bubbles swirl around.
He will probably sit for the whole wash cycle, just watching them.
Jimmy hears his mother calling and runs back through the overgrown section at the back of his house.
I like the feeling of grass tickling my ankles.
“James,” she says. “There you are.”
Jimmy smiles, holding his arms wide for a hug. His mother scoops him up, holding him close. Something is wrong. She hasn’t told him off for being at the lake again, or for the mud on his bum. He wraps his chubby arms around her neck, burying his head against her shoulder. There is a big man at the kitchen table. He is eating the lemon slice.
Jimmy’s mother puts him down and he keeps one hand on her skirt while swiping the last piece of slice with the other. His mother doesn’t scold him. He hides behind her leg and munches on the slice.
I like how lemons make my eyes water.
“Is this the Quinn boy?”
“I…”
Jimmy knows they are talking about him. He peers up at the man, in his brown jacket and tweed trousers.
I don’t like grown-ups who think they know everything.
“He is their last heir, Gwendolin...”
“He is my son.”
“Don’t you want a bit of payback on that bastard? You’ll make us both rich.”
Jimmy doesn’t like this man. He is making mother nervous. Jimmy backs up, thinking he might just go to his room until the angry man is gone.
“Get him back here,” the tweedy man growls.
Jimmy starts to run, out into the hall way, down the front steps, out onto the street where his mother’s beat up old Beetle sits, unlocked. Jimmy climbs inside, curling up on the front seat. There are angry voices inside the house and then a long silence, punctuated by a loud bang. Jimmy curls up tighter.
I like the smell of mum’s perfume on the leather.
After a long time, Jimmy’s mother jumps in the driver’s side and revs the engine.
“Let’s go on holiday,” she says. “How about France?”
“As long as we’re not taking that angry man.”
His mother shakes her head as she speeds off down the gravely road. “He won’t be following us.”
I like when me and mum play runaway.
Wordcount: 510
Challenge 4: The Examination
I will be calm. I will not panic at the thought that most of the other people in this room are much older than me. I will not think about the fact that they have been doing this since before I was born. I can do this. “Kiera Grey” called the Examiner. I get up from my seat in the waiting room.
Kiera entered the examination chamber.
The chamber is not what I expected. It is a large bare room, unlike the waiting room there are no tapestries on these walls, they are plain white marble. The only feature in the room is a marble block that seems to be part of the room. As, in fact, it is. The Examiner has taken his place behind it and waits for me to step inside the only other feature of the room. A silver circle of ancient runes engraved into the marble floor. I do not need to look behind me to see the door is open only very slightly, signifying that the test has not yet begun.
“You understand that once the test begins that you will not be able to leave until you either pass or you die?” asked the Examiner. “I understand.” replied Kiera. “If you have any second thoughts, now would be the time to express them...” the Examiner added.
He thinks I am too young. They all do. But if I do not pass this now then all of the power I have will remain useless to the world they tell me I am to serve. I have as much control as I ever will have. If I do not pass now, I never will. I will be too dangerous to live. “I am ready. No second thoughts.” I tell him. “Very well.” said the Examiner and with a bow he placed his hands down on the marble block before him. The door seals itself shut and there is no visible seam to it. It is as though the Examiner and I are sealed in a single solid piece of marble. A second of claustrophobia grips me before I banish it. Fear is not useful to one of my kind. One whose blood is full of magic. A silvery mist forms around the examiner, his shield against what this chamber will release to test me. It is not his power that tests me. I can tell this immediately. I do not believe that I am supposed to know this. I am supposed to believe that the Examiner is more powerful than any other member of our kind. He is not. This room holds more power than he does. It may even hold more power than me.
The test took over an hour. Kiara's mentor waited patiently to see whether the girl truly had the control required to be allowed into the world with him to guard and protect their people from the ravages of the magic-ridden world around them. He did not waste his energy with emotions. That was what this test was all about. Emotions were dangerous when one could level mountains so magic-users didn't have them. Finally the examination chamber opened. Kiara Grey walked out unscathed. The Examiner however, looked worn, drained. Kiara smiled.
Wordcount: 546
Kiera entered the examination chamber.
The chamber is not what I expected. It is a large bare room, unlike the waiting room there are no tapestries on these walls, they are plain white marble. The only feature in the room is a marble block that seems to be part of the room. As, in fact, it is. The Examiner has taken his place behind it and waits for me to step inside the only other feature of the room. A silver circle of ancient runes engraved into the marble floor. I do not need to look behind me to see the door is open only very slightly, signifying that the test has not yet begun.
“You understand that once the test begins that you will not be able to leave until you either pass or you die?” asked the Examiner. “I understand.” replied Kiera. “If you have any second thoughts, now would be the time to express them...” the Examiner added.
He thinks I am too young. They all do. But if I do not pass this now then all of the power I have will remain useless to the world they tell me I am to serve. I have as much control as I ever will have. If I do not pass now, I never will. I will be too dangerous to live. “I am ready. No second thoughts.” I tell him. “Very well.” said the Examiner and with a bow he placed his hands down on the marble block before him. The door seals itself shut and there is no visible seam to it. It is as though the Examiner and I are sealed in a single solid piece of marble. A second of claustrophobia grips me before I banish it. Fear is not useful to one of my kind. One whose blood is full of magic. A silvery mist forms around the examiner, his shield against what this chamber will release to test me. It is not his power that tests me. I can tell this immediately. I do not believe that I am supposed to know this. I am supposed to believe that the Examiner is more powerful than any other member of our kind. He is not. This room holds more power than he does. It may even hold more power than me.
The test took over an hour. Kiara's mentor waited patiently to see whether the girl truly had the control required to be allowed into the world with him to guard and protect their people from the ravages of the magic-ridden world around them. He did not waste his energy with emotions. That was what this test was all about. Emotions were dangerous when one could level mountains so magic-users didn't have them. Finally the examination chamber opened. Kiara Grey walked out unscathed. The Examiner however, looked worn, drained. Kiara smiled.
Wordcount: 546
Challenge 4
The Unstable Self
Write a story that alternated between the I and the he/she (or narrator name), making sure you don't confuse the reader with the switches. You might also consider other ways of indicating instability - voices (in italics), commands, or out-of-body perpectives. Perhaps a situation where a person is under such stress they cannot think straight?
Wordcount: 500 (+/- 10%)
Do your best with this one - I am looking forward to seeing what you can come up with.
Good luck participants.
Write a story that alternated between the I and the he/she (or narrator name), making sure you don't confuse the reader with the switches. You might also consider other ways of indicating instability - voices (in italics), commands, or out-of-body perpectives. Perhaps a situation where a person is under such stress they cannot think straight?
Wordcount: 500 (+/- 10%)
Do your best with this one - I am looking forward to seeing what you can come up with.
Good luck participants.
Challenge 3: Harriet
“Sally! Lunch Time!” called Kelly. “Coming!” called a voice from the garden.
“Miriam! Lunch Time!” called Kelly. “Coming!” replied a voice from the library.
The final member of the household did not need calling. Harriet followed Kelly around, never letting Kelly out of her sight. Poor girl. Harriet was the eternal child. She did not speak, she just watched everything with a constant hint of fear in her eyes. Only Kelly knew why. And she wasn't ever gong to reveal that secret. No matter how often Dr Saunders tried to get her to. Dr Saunders owned the house the women lived in. The women took care of it, Sally cared for what she thought of as 'her' garden. Miriam did the same for 'her' library and Kelly and Harriet kept the rest of the house tidy. Dr Saunders worked long hours in town and had a flat there that he stayed in during the week, then he returned to them in the weekends. Kelly never really thought about why Dr Saunders had them living in his home, it was just the way they had always been. Kelly could not recall a time when there had not been the four of them in this house with Dr Saunder's weekend 'visits' for that was what they felt like, even though this was actually his home.
“Good afternoon Harriet. Do you feel like talking today?” Dr Saunders asked politely, as he did every time they had these conversations. He always only spoke to Harriet. Never the others. The others were always there with Harriet, protecting her. Harriet shook her head. “I have had a rather unusual letter that I wish to discuss with you.” Dr Saunders continued. “I have a letter from Harriet's father...” he began, all the women reacted immediately, blocking Harriet from the Dr and a new person stepped forward. “That bastard is not allowed anywhere near us.” Hissed the new girl fiercely. Her voice filled with fury and loathing for the man in question and Dr Saunders for any suggestion of him in front of them. Dr Saunders looked taken aback. “May I ask why?” he asked gently. All five women almost exploded in the pain and fear of Harriet, the child surrounded protectively by the other four. “You do not have to fear him here.” said the doctor carefully, “He does not know where you are, the letter was sent to my office in town.” said Dr Saunders comfortingly. “He cannot harm you.” he repeated. “But you could hurt him, if you tell me why you are afraid of him.” he added gently. “Mother...” the word seemed to be pulled from them as all five spoke the word at once. For just one instant all five were as they were supposed to be and Harriet was whole “He killed mother.” she said, then she was once again five with the child in the centre.
Wordcount: 500
“Miriam! Lunch Time!” called Kelly. “Coming!” replied a voice from the library.
The final member of the household did not need calling. Harriet followed Kelly around, never letting Kelly out of her sight. Poor girl. Harriet was the eternal child. She did not speak, she just watched everything with a constant hint of fear in her eyes. Only Kelly knew why. And she wasn't ever gong to reveal that secret. No matter how often Dr Saunders tried to get her to. Dr Saunders owned the house the women lived in. The women took care of it, Sally cared for what she thought of as 'her' garden. Miriam did the same for 'her' library and Kelly and Harriet kept the rest of the house tidy. Dr Saunders worked long hours in town and had a flat there that he stayed in during the week, then he returned to them in the weekends. Kelly never really thought about why Dr Saunders had them living in his home, it was just the way they had always been. Kelly could not recall a time when there had not been the four of them in this house with Dr Saunder's weekend 'visits' for that was what they felt like, even though this was actually his home.
“Good afternoon Harriet. Do you feel like talking today?” Dr Saunders asked politely, as he did every time they had these conversations. He always only spoke to Harriet. Never the others. The others were always there with Harriet, protecting her. Harriet shook her head. “I have had a rather unusual letter that I wish to discuss with you.” Dr Saunders continued. “I have a letter from Harriet's father...” he began, all the women reacted immediately, blocking Harriet from the Dr and a new person stepped forward. “That bastard is not allowed anywhere near us.” Hissed the new girl fiercely. Her voice filled with fury and loathing for the man in question and Dr Saunders for any suggestion of him in front of them. Dr Saunders looked taken aback. “May I ask why?” he asked gently. All five women almost exploded in the pain and fear of Harriet, the child surrounded protectively by the other four. “You do not have to fear him here.” said the doctor carefully, “He does not know where you are, the letter was sent to my office in town.” said Dr Saunders comfortingly. “He cannot harm you.” he repeated. “But you could hurt him, if you tell me why you are afraid of him.” he added gently. “Mother...” the word seemed to be pulled from them as all five spoke the word at once. For just one instant all five were as they were supposed to be and Harriet was whole “He killed mother.” she said, then she was once again five with the child in the centre.
Wordcount: 500
Challenge 3: Missing Frank
“My husband is missing,” she said, straining to keep the emotion from her voice. It wasn’t appropriate to cry just yet, he might just have needed some space. Frank did that sometimes, driving off to the port hills to look down on the city and clear his head. Usually, it was after an argument, but he’d always come home.
Patricia took a deep breath and forced herself to her feet, saying, “Would you like a cup of tea? I have Early Grey or English Breakfast.”
The police woman smiled politely but shook her head. Of course, Patricia berated herself, the nice cop wouldn’t want to take too many liberties while she was working.
“When was the last time you saw him, Mrs Ainsley?”
Patricia filled the kettle and put it on to boil, thinking about the day before. It had been a terrible fight. Probably one of their worst. She had come home from work early because of a migraine she couldn’t seem to shake. Frank had been sitting in the living room, watching re-runs of last night’s football match. She remembered wondering how he could even see the television through the screen of cigarette smoke. They argued about his laziness. Patricia was sick of supporting them both on hours and hours of cleaning other people’s houses. She wanted a nice place of her own.
In the end, Frank walked out of course, like he always did. Except this time, he hadn’t come home.
“Mrs Ainsley?”
“Hmm?” She glanced at the officer. “Oh yes, I saw him yesterday afternoon. He went out to do a bit of shopping and never returned.”
“Was there an argument of any sort? Any reason to think he might just have left you?”
“No…” Patricia smiled warily. “I don’t think so…”
The lady made a few notes and then stood up. “Well, I can’t promise anything, Mrs Ainsley, but we’ll do our best.”
She passed Patricia a card. “Call me at this number if you remember anything that could be important, alright?”
Patricia escorted the nice lady to the front door and waved as the police car pulled out of the driveway and sped off down the street. Then she returned to her tea, sitting at the kitchen table and watching the rain pelt down against the pavers.
It was strange, how little she really missed Frank. She wondered, for a moment, when she had ever loved him. He was hardly faithful to her. Everyone knew that. But she needed him. She couldn’t stand the thought that he would actually get up and walk out on her. Not after twenty years of marriage.
She stood up and pulled open the kitchen drawer, not exactly sure what she was looking for. Perhaps a spoon to stir a little more sugar into her tea? She took out a knife. Long and sharp. It wasn’t clean. Why had she put it away without washing it properly first?
She turned the tap on to full and scrubbed. The water turned red and then clear again. She put the knife in the dishwasher and returned to her tea. Frank would be back, soon. He always was.
Wordcount: 526
Patricia took a deep breath and forced herself to her feet, saying, “Would you like a cup of tea? I have Early Grey or English Breakfast.”
The police woman smiled politely but shook her head. Of course, Patricia berated herself, the nice cop wouldn’t want to take too many liberties while she was working.
“When was the last time you saw him, Mrs Ainsley?”
Patricia filled the kettle and put it on to boil, thinking about the day before. It had been a terrible fight. Probably one of their worst. She had come home from work early because of a migraine she couldn’t seem to shake. Frank had been sitting in the living room, watching re-runs of last night’s football match. She remembered wondering how he could even see the television through the screen of cigarette smoke. They argued about his laziness. Patricia was sick of supporting them both on hours and hours of cleaning other people’s houses. She wanted a nice place of her own.
In the end, Frank walked out of course, like he always did. Except this time, he hadn’t come home.
“Mrs Ainsley?”
“Hmm?” She glanced at the officer. “Oh yes, I saw him yesterday afternoon. He went out to do a bit of shopping and never returned.”
“Was there an argument of any sort? Any reason to think he might just have left you?”
“No…” Patricia smiled warily. “I don’t think so…”
The lady made a few notes and then stood up. “Well, I can’t promise anything, Mrs Ainsley, but we’ll do our best.”
She passed Patricia a card. “Call me at this number if you remember anything that could be important, alright?”
Patricia escorted the nice lady to the front door and waved as the police car pulled out of the driveway and sped off down the street. Then she returned to her tea, sitting at the kitchen table and watching the rain pelt down against the pavers.
It was strange, how little she really missed Frank. She wondered, for a moment, when she had ever loved him. He was hardly faithful to her. Everyone knew that. But she needed him. She couldn’t stand the thought that he would actually get up and walk out on her. Not after twenty years of marriage.
She stood up and pulled open the kitchen drawer, not exactly sure what she was looking for. Perhaps a spoon to stir a little more sugar into her tea? She took out a knife. Long and sharp. It wasn’t clean. Why had she put it away without washing it properly first?
She turned the tap on to full and scrubbed. The water turned red and then clear again. She put the knife in the dishwasher and returned to her tea. Frank would be back, soon. He always was.
Wordcount: 526
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)