Write on Wednesday (on Sunday)

I missed last week's Write on Wednesday prompt, but I just checked the site and found this week's up and ready to go, so I jumped on it while I had a chance.

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 20 - Write the words " I thought I saw" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Don't take you pen off the page (or fingers off the keyboard). Stop only when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.  

If you want to play along, visit Write on Wednesdays. 

So here is my take on it... (part of the ongoing story I'm playing with)

A short pudgy man in a plaid jacket was having a disagreement with a tall thin man in wire-rimmed glasses and a tweed sport coat.  The crowd seemed to have split around them, as if the men were forming a dividing line of sorts.  The circle of people had grown since she'd last looked out the window.  She still couldn't see any of the signs because no one was holding them up.  All of the spectators were standing solidly, signs resting in front of them, facing the two men in the center of the circle.  Grey drizzle seeped from the clouds and misted everyone, but it didn’t seem to impact the crowd in the least. 

Pudgy man's comb-over was blowing in the afternoon's wind.  It raised like a giant one-piece hair flap and would settle down once the gust had passed.  Wire-rim kept pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose with his middle finger.  Olivia wondered if the fact he was getting the finger was an irritation to Pudgy or if he even noticed. 

Pudgy's face seemed to be turning red.  Olivia couldn't tell if it was from being outside in the cold or from his internal combustion chamber of anger.  He pointed and gestured, his mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish.  In normal circumstances, she might have smiled at the image or possibly even made a mental note about him to share with Matthew as an amusing anecdote.  But not today.

Picture Postcards from LA–Write on Wednesday

 

Write on Wednesday: Choose Your Own Adventure - Revisit an old prompt

For this week, I chose "Songbird" - Take a song and write the story behind the lyrics... not something inspired by the lyric, but the flesh and bones of the story.

I did this, but did not keep it to flash fiction, creating a short story instead.
 

 

Picture Postcards from LA (song by Joshua Kadison)

Rachel slid into the driver’s seat of her Jetta and smoothed her hands across her black slacks, hoping that they would remain wrinkle-free. She checked her rearview mirror, slid a pair of sunglasses over her green eyes, snapped her seatbelt and placed the key in the ignition. When the engine turned over, John Mellencamp blared over the speakers, assuring her that he was an American, and she smiled.

The sun toasted her skin through the sunroof as she headed down I-5 to Eddie's Shipwreck. With the gorgeous weather, she was hardly in the mood to go to work, but the desire to save money for a move to California provided the necessary incentive. She was tired of leading an empty life and thought that an acting career might just be the thing for her to feel fulfilled. But a move to LA would require serious money.

She’d been putting a lot into savings, but she still didn’t feel comfortable with the cushion she’d set aside. It was hard for her to determine whether that was reality or just fear of change.

Refusing to think about finances or slinging drinks for her last few minutes of freedom and sunshine, she cranked the volume dial to the right and sang her stress away until she reached the waterfront restaurant.

Rachel stepped through the heavy oak door into the lounge and immediately wrinkled her eyes into a squint to try to adjust to the dimness of the room. The sun still hovered along the slope of the horizon, but not much light made it through the small porthole-style windows in the nautical-themed bar. Dean looked up from his spot at the bar. He gave her a shy nod. She scanned the crowded area for an empty table. Not seeing one, she smiled. It was going to be a good night.

Crossing the scuffed wood floor, she stepped behind the glass wall at the back of the bar, shifted her focus and plucked her timecard out of its slot. The clock chugged as it stamped the manila card with a 6:52 in indigo ink. She replaced the card and shrugged out of her jacket. Undoing the top button on her white shirt, she repositioned 'the girls' in the demi-cup bra she’d purchased earlier in the day. Any advantage I can get will help. Rachel looked up and noticed Dean watching her through the glass. She poked her tongue out at him before smiling and shimmying for good measure. The tip of his ears reddened at his hairline. He down-shifted his eyes and rearranged the bottles of mixer in front of him. Rachel pressed her lips against the glass, leaving a red kiss for him between the Jack Daniels and Goldschlager.

Take a Walk - Write on Wednesday

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 11 - Take a Walk: "Come back home and write what you encountered. Try to write so that your sentences feel the way the walking felt." Let's toss the 5 minute sprint aside this week and instead take a lingering stroll through our exercise. Participants are encouraged to write a first draft (the point being to get it out on the page), then to go through and edit their piece before posting. We're aiming to get from one place to another, taking the reader with us - economically, gracefully, elegantly. If you want to play along, checkout inkpaperpen at the link above.


So I didn't really get to do much in the way of revising/second draft work because I am on Day 4 of a headache, but I wanted to get something out.  I muddled through, and it feels as thick as my head.  LOL.  


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The sun drifted above the horizon line, dragging pink entrails behind it across the black-blue morning sky.  The subway ride had allowed Olivia a slice of much-welcomed quiet time.  Since she was on the F train going against the flow of commuter traffic, she had an entire car to herself.  It would be a few hours at least before families lugging beach gear and picnic baskets would be making the trek in her direction.  She watched the alphabet pass as Brooklyn stations until she reached the end of the line. 

At the last stop, she crossed the street and walked the long block to the boardwalk.  The sun seemed to free itself from the clouds and was easing into the sky.  Aside from a thin man in a dirty blue track suit who was checking the garbage for recyclables, and an occasional jogger, Olivia was surprised to discover that the strip was mostly deserted.  She had intended to use the boardwalk for her morning run, but then changed her mind and decided to walk it instead; she wanted to soak in her surroundings.  It wasn't every day she got a chance to experience Coney Island while it was still asleep.

The shack known as Beer Island had its wooden windows pulled down and locked tight over an impressive array of bottles and neon signs that were normally on display.  The green and white striped awning at Nathan's on the boardwalk slapped softly in the breeze, but there wasn't any movement inside.  The deep silver bowls of the cotton candy machines were at rest.  The Cyclone sat stoically as a backdrop for a section of amusement park rides, but all was quiet: the mermaid boats rested on their watery tracks and the swings hung nearly still.  

She made her way down the length of a pier taking slow, loose steps.  The chill in the salty air brushed moist against her skin and reminded her that Fall was just around the corner.  She leaned against the wooden railing at the end of the dock and looked at the water below.  A small fish nipped at a bug on the smooth surface of the water and caused a series of concentric circles to roll outward.  She watched until the last ring seemed to disappear and wondered how long it would take the ripples in her life to flatten or how long she could keep hiding from them.

Write On Wednesday–Piqued

 
Write On Wednesdays Exercise 10 - A Gift of Serendipity... Take Felicity's Word of the Week. Write it at the top of your page. Set your timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the Word of the Week. Stop writing when the buzzer rings.
Felicity's Word of the Week is...  Piqued


This is part of a longer, ongoing piece I’m working on at the moment (or at least every Wednesday in five-minute increments… hahahaha).  I’m kind of skipping around, so sorry if it doesn’t make sense out of context.
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The weekend passed in a blur of hours and endless chores and tasks. Olivia felt better, for the most part, throughout the days, but there were occasions when she’d get a wave of queasiness and have to take deep breaths to get through it. She kept silent about her stomach dilemma since she couldn’t figure out what was going on, and she didn’t want to needlessly worry Matthew. She was sure she’d just picked up a virus from an employee.  She also didn’t want to have him treat her like an invalid for the rest of the weekend. By Monday, she was getting used to the challenge of ignoring the nausea or eating a handful of saltines to help ease it. She felt like a stoic warrior… like Gerard Butler in 300 or something. She was going to kick the stomach bug one way or the other.
***
“Maybe you are pregnant,” Claire stated with a Cheshire grin.

“Don’t even go there. You know that’s not funny,” Olivia stuck her tongue out at her assistant. “Plus, I know this will fall under the category of ‘too much information’ but now I feel like you deserve it. Matthew, my darling mister, had himself snipped right after Elsie. Snip snip.” She made a scissor motion with her two fingers and smiled at the ‘ewww gross’ look that crossed Claire’s face.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” was Claire’s comeback. “You know the statistic.”

“What statistic?” Olivia asked, her curiosity piqued.

“The statistic that says that one couple in like eight million or something ends up pregnant *after* a vasectomy. Maybe you are lucky number eight million.”

“Now that is really not funny.” Olivia glared at Claire. “That is like a lotto statistic. Maybe I should start playing the lottery.”

Olivia dragged a chair over and sat down in front of Claire’s desk. "Let’s ignore your crazy comment and look at those numbers." The two sat and pored over the latest round of figures Claire had compiled.

The clock winked... Write on Wednesday

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 8 - The clock winked...Write the words "The clock winked" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Stop when the buzzer rings. Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.  If you want to participate, go to http://inkpaperpen.blogspot.com and play along. 

Matthew's package and the rest of his mail sat on the coffee table in front of her.  She grabbed her cell phone and debated whether or not to call him.  It was nearly 11 pm.  She shouldn't call.  Should she?  She ran her fingernail along the keypad, scraping dust from between the keys, stalling her decision.  She sighed.  Then reason won.  It was his blood pressure medication after all.  She didn't want him to go without it.  She pressed two for speed dial, then pushed "send" and waited.  Matthew's line rang once and then went to voicemail. 

Did he hit ignore? Negative Nelly asked.

He wouldn't do that, Olivia argued with herself.

Wouldn't he?  Otherwise why did it only ring once?  It wasn't turned off because then it would have gone straight to voicemail without ringing at all.  No.  It was as if it rang the one time, he looked down, saw it was you, and hit ignore.  Is he with someone else?

Olivia grappled with the sinking feeling in her stomach.  One of the things she had always appreciated about their relationship was the fact that she didn't have to feel insecure. 

Troy, an ex boyfriend from long ago, had taken great delight in making Olivia feel like she was never quite good enough for him or that he might leave her at any minute.  Back then, she had a hard time seeing it for what it was, but once she realized that she didn't like feeling that way, she left Troy and vowed that her next relationship would be built on mutual respect.  It took her a couple of attempts before she met Matthew, but once she met him, she knew she would never end up with someone as emotionally manipulating as Troy again.

The clock winked at her.  It was going to be a long night.

Status Anxiety

Status Anxiety: Log onto your Facebook/Twitter page and write down the first status update you see.  Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after your prompt. Stop when the buzzer rings. Do this exercise over and over if you wish. 


"You'd think by all the looks I get at the gym lately that people have never seen a prego gal work out!"  This was the first status update I saw when I logged into FB.  Using it as the prompt, I took it in a slightly different direction, but the inspiration is still there.

Light blue clouds flanked the dark navy sky in the east.  Right above the horizon line, streaks of pink ran into the blues and announced the imminent arrival of the sun.  The ground was still wet from the previous night's rain.  The air felt crisp and clean as if the city had been through a giant carwash.  Olivia pulled her iPod from her jacket pocket and struggled to untangle the thin white cord stretching to the earbuds.  She placed them in her ears and switched to her "happy jogging" playlist Matthew had created for her.  It usually made her smile every time she saw it pop up in the menu. 

Technology might change, but the sentiment behind a finely-crafted mixtape never did.  The last she'd received was a cassette tape given to her in her late 20s by her friend, Jones.  They both volunteered with a small non-profit organization that fed meals to the homeless and near-homeless people in the community.  They had a great time together and there were always a lot of laughs with Jones.  But as is often the case in those types of friendships, his concept of their friendship changed.  He wanted it to grow into a romance, and she was completely content at being friends.  Jones, being a shy and unassuming guy, never came out and really said anything to her directly, but after a long volunteer weekend with a couple of other friends, he'd given her a mix tape of old doo-wop songs.  Most people would have thought it was strange, but she had told him one time that she felt like a geek for watching a doo-wop marathon event they had on the local PBS station.  She loved that old music.  He'd listened and remembered it. 

The playlist Matthew had created for her started, and she adjusted the volume before stretching for a minute.  After the short stretch, she started out with a slow pace and felt the cobwebs in her head begin to disappear with the increase in her heart rate and breathing.  Olivia ran down the promenade along the small inlet on the Tacoma waterfront.  The condos overlooking the water were virtually empty, and it always seemed eerie to her for those few owners that did live in a mostly vacant building.  She increased her speed as she passed the back of the glass museum and up the stairs leading to the breezeway that would take her to Pacific Avenue. It looked like it was going to be a nice day, and she was glad.  She needed a little sunshine.