Too Many Questions?
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
She said: You know you ask too many questions? I said: Can you please just tell me what color plates you want? She said: Don’t you already know the answer to that? I said: If I know, why did I ask? She said: Maybe because you love asking questions you already know the answers to? I said: How do you know if I already know the answers? She said: Aren’t they obvious? I said: Do you have to do this every time I ask a damn question? She said: How else are you going to learn? I said: What’s there to learn? She said: You see how you just did it again? I said: What’s wrong with asking simple questions? She said: Do you realize how annoying it is to have to keep answering silly questions all day? I said: Do you realize how painful it is to be constantly criticized for the stupid things I do? She said: Did I ever say the things you do are stupid? I said: Isn’t that what you’re always thinking? She said: Why do you always have to assume the worst? I said: What else am I supposed to think? She said: How about that I’m just trying to help you? I said: Did I ask for your help? She said: Why don’t you just get back to setting the table? I said: You know this whole conversation could have been avoided if you had just told me what color plates you want?! She said: Blue.
This short piece is based on What If? Exercise 91: “He Said/She Said – But About What!”. The exercise is to write a story in paragraph form, 250-500 words long, using the structure of alternating voices who disagree about an issue based on an emotional subtext. The objective is to learn how to hang a story on a simple structure. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
The Plane Spotter
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
That game always took me anywhere I wanted to go.
I couldn’t remember a time when I was happier.
Capturing the clouds was all I ever wanted.
So now I’m following those lifelong dreams.
I will discover the real world.
With a camera beside me.
The sky’s the limit.
Follow the sun.
Look up.
This is another piece I wrote based on What If? Exercise 93: “Ten to One”. The exercise is to write a 55-word story in which the first sentence has ten words, the second has nine, etc., until the last sentence has only one word. The objective is to show that precision and thrift in writing can produce surprisingly powerful results. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Dedicated to a good friend of mine, whose dreams always called him to two things: photography and the sky. Happy Birthday, man! Love ya!
The iPod in My Backpack
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
In my backpack is a fifth-generation iPod Nano. Its casing is a shiny cobalt blue, and its design is thin and sleek. The glass screen is partially cracked, and its click wheel is slightly worn from hours of flipping through its hundreds of songs. On the back is a personalized engraving, etched in by laser over the Apple logo and the camera lens: “Don’t ever stop singing.”
The iPod was a Christmas present from my boyfriend and best friend in the world. He and I met through our common interest in creative writing, but one of the passions we share is our love of music. Interestingly, we both generally dislike the modern mainstream pop that constantly blares on the TV and radio stations, but he was the one who introduced me to the Indie genres. The sweet sound of music layered with true emotion opened me up to an artistic world that I didn’t even realize existed. For the past few years, my boyfriend has been sharing so much new music with me, and I can never get enough. He even shares some of his own compositions with me, songs that really showcase his musical potential. In turn, he can never seem to get enough of my voice, ever since I first sang for him. He and I agree that music is a gift, a passion best experienced with someone you love.
The Christmas before we became a couple, my friend sent me a present through the mail. I was shocked to discover an Apple iPod Nano inside the box, intended as a replacement for my four-year-old iPod Mini, which was on its last legs. I couldn’t thank him enough. Now I would once again be able to enjoy hours of music at a time, the music he loved to send me. He had asked me to open the box in front of him over Skype, so that after he saw my reaction, he could tell me to turn the iPod over. It was then that I saw the engraving. I was so moved; it was such a personal and thoughtful gift.
To this day, I cherish my iPod. I carry it with me whenever I go out, and I listen to it every time I take the bus to college. I was disappointed in myself for letting its screen break when I dropped it once. Still, I take care never to misplace it, for if I ever lost it, it would be like losing a special connection to my best friend.
Between his home in the United States and mine in Brazil, my boyfriend and I currently live over 6000 miles apart. But as long as we have music, we’ll always be close. All I have to do is turn on my iPod, and wherever I go, he’s right there with me.
This piece is based on What If? Exercise 73: “Things You Carry”. The exercise is to choose an object you carry in your pocket or your bag that’s special to you, describe it in detail using less than 100 words, and then tell the story behind it in at least 200 words. The objective is to demonstrate how much emotional attachment and significance can be connected to everyday objects. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
What I Didn’t Know
I knew I could find a nice home. I didn’t know it would be in somebody’s house.
I knew my new home would have all the food I could possibly want. I didn’t know I would have to take it from somebody else.
I knew I would feel guilty if I had to steal food. I didn’t know having a conscience would get me into so much trouble.
I knew the garbage would be easy to reach without being seen by the people. I didn’t know they had a cat.
I knew I could escape from her through the kitchen. I didn’t know someone would be in there with a knife.
I knew my tail would never grow back. I didn’t know I would miss it so much.
I knew life wouldn’t always be easy. I didn’t know how hard it would be to go days without food.
I knew I might find some free cheese lying around if I looked. I didn’t know what would happen if I took it.
I knew I could find a nice home. I didn’t know someone like me could find Paradise.
North and South
After years of watching a vibrant foreign world speed by without a second glance, a girl must accept that the feeling of being out of place can’t be shaken off so easily. But if there is anything those years can teach her, it’s that life is full of surprises.
It’s understandable for anyone to feel like they don’t belong in a strange world. A person doesn’t always fit immediately into new surroundings, even someone as supposedly adaptable as a child. Adaptation depends on a variety of factors, such as circumstances, timing, and the magnitude of change.
One of these is the nature of the person being subjected to change. Some people simply adapt better than others. Such people welcome variety and embrace the unknown. I wasn’t one of them.
The differences between the unknown and the familiar can be problematic. Sometimes they’re as minor as the comparison between Dog and Cat. Other times, they can be as polar as North and South.
My family and I moved to South America when I was 12 years old. Before then, I was a timid child living happily in southern Florida. I had a fulfilling education in a language I spoke fluently, with teachers who praised me for my excellent grades and a small group of close friends. I was more than content with my life the way it was.
Then came 2001.
After September 11, much of what I knew changed drastically. Our country descended into what could easily be described as near panic, until we started to feel uncomfortable living in our own home on the East Coast. My parents decided this was no way to live, and it would be best for us to move away for a while, to the country where they were raised. It was somewhere we could feel safe and free again.
“Brazil?” My friends were just as surprised by the news as I was. How could they not be? No kid wants to learn their life is months away from being turned upside-down.
“When are you leaving?”
“This December”, I answered many times, never a hint of excitement in my voice.
My teachers were no less disappointed by this turn of events, but they did their best to encourage me.
“You’re a wonderful student”, they assured me. “Your teachers in Brazil will love and appreciate you too.”
This was hardly true, however. The first challenge I faced after moving abroad was mastering a new language, so different from my native English. Because of this, my grades began to slip, and whenever my teachers recognized me, it was for the fact that I was American, never for an outstanding report card.
Still, behind this fact was an encouraging lesson to be learned.
“Brazilians are the friendliest people in the world!” my parents told my sisters and me. “Everyone will want to get to know you.”
This I found to be true. Every year, I was approached by people eager to know everything about my life in the USA. It was a different paradigm from that to which I was accustomed; few of my friends in Florida had ever shown similar interest in me. These new social interactions would greatly facilitate my grasping of the Portuguese language, and for that, I was grateful. My main challenge now was not meeting new people; it was overcoming my shyness in order to make friends. Could I somehow manage to adapt to this new life, the way my two younger sisters had?
The answer came in high school.
When I was 16, a boy in school approached me. He asked me several questions, and I was surprised by this seemingly random gesture from someone I had never met before. But more surprises were still to come.
As it so happened, this boy would later become my first boyfriend, and his friends, my friends for life. I was in for love, heartbreak, laughter, and years of solid friendship. A new chapter in my life was just beginning.
“Brazil is a wonderful country, when you give it a chance.”
My parents couldn’t have been more right. I always knew the transition from North to South would be difficult, but as I’ve come to realize, life never fails to provide enough surprises to make the ride worthwhile.
This story was my first assignment for my online creative writing course: the personal essay. The subject I chose to write about was the true story of my transition from the United States to Brazil, and now I’m sharing it here with all of you. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written! Thanks for reading!
Petty Chocolate
A few years ago, I received a gift from a friend: a box of chocolates. I was excited about it for the brief time I had it, but I never got to enjoy it, because the same week, you took it away claiming you needed a gift for a friend of your own. Because you promised to replace it, I agreed to let you take it. But you never kept that promise. Of course, I’m partly to blame; since I didn’t want you to think I was petty and annoying, I didn’t insist. At the end of that story, my life was exactly the same as it was in the beginning.
Over a year later, an honest mistake left me without my gift of chocolate again. However, this time I decided to try something different: instead of sitting back and trusting you to replace it like you said you would, I was going to risk sounding petty and insist you keep your promise. I reminded you several times about the gift I had lost, and I kept asking when you would be going to the store so I’d know when you could get me the chocolate you promised. And you know what happened? I got chocolate!
So you want to know what I learned from all this? I learned that when you want something from someone, you have to insist. You have to keep asking when they plan to keep their promises, regardless of whether they’ll think you sound petty. And I know you think I sound petty. But honestly, I’m OK with that, because between these two endings – you thinking I’m a big person or me having chocolate to enjoy at the end of a trying day – I’d rather have the chocolate.
The Beast
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
I was a fool to think we could slay it.
She trusted me with her life, and I failed.
I was so sure we had it cornered.
I heard the growling before she did.
But she saw the teeth first.
I tried to save her.
It was too fast.
I blacked out.
She vanished.
This piece is based on What If? Exercise 93: “Ten to One”. The exercise is to write a 55-word story in which the first sentence has ten words, the second has nine, etc., until the last sentence has only one word. The objective is to show that precision and thrift in writing can produce surprisingly powerful results. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Impact
I could have sworn it was a bird.
When something big and black crashes hard enough into my window to shatter it, the first thing I think is it must be a bird.
But those leathery, featherless, bloodstained wings are not bird wings.
No, most of the birds around here know the tint of my windows, but blinded by the sun, that poor bat never saw the glass coming.
Based on a Halloween prompt from Writer’s Carnival: Things that Go Bump in the Day.
In no more than 4 sentences or 12 lines of poetry, write about a frightening occurrence which happens while the sun is still shining. What kind of terrors lurk in broad daylight?
Hope you enjoy what I’ve written! Thanks for reading, and Happy Halloween!
The Bird on the Balcony
I’m sitting here, trying to think of something to write, a great idea for a story…
But this bird keeps staring at me through the window.
Seriously, a bird is staring through the window of my study, looking right at me.
What does it want? I don’t look like a bird, or anything that would be friendly to a bird. I don’t have any food on me; I never once gave it something to eat. We have a cat in the house who prowls around upstairs, so it shouldn’t be there in the first place.
Yet there it is, perched on the railing, staring at me with its beady little eyes, like I’m supposed to do something.
But what? Stare back at it? That’d be something odd, a staring contest with a bird. I know who’d win that. Hint: not me.
Am I supposed to stand up? Wouldn’t it fly away? What’s the point? It’s not doing anything, just staring.
And it’s very distracting.
Stop it! What do you want from me? Go away! I’m trying to work.
I mean it! Why are you looking at me like that?! Leave me alone!
The cat will get you if you stay there. Seriously, you’d better leave. Now.
OK, that’s it! Here I come…
Oh, look at that… It’s flying away.
Great, now I can get back to writing.
…
…
“The Bird on the Balcony”…
The Painted Wall
When Nadine moved to her new home with her parents in September, the wall was a plain blank white, yet to be touched by the artistic vision of a timid young girl seeking refuge from the world in the creative space of her basement.
In October, a month after starting at her new school, Nadine found she was still having trouble making friends. Shy and in fear of the school year to come, she descended into the basement one afternoon to stroke the wall with a thin paintbrush in little streaks across an array of grays, the palette the other students saw when they looked at her.
In November, Nadine finally engaged in conversation with a few other girls in her homeroom class. Her new hope of friendship found a place on the wall as light brushstroke patterns of daisy yellow.
In December, the cute boy Nadine often admired from a distance approached her after a Math exam. She went home still blushing profusely over Alex’s interest in her, and her wall was later decorated with bubbles of bright carnation pink.
In January, Alex invited Nadine to join him on the floor at the winter dance. Her heart still fluttering as the music echoed in her ears, Nadine twirled before the wall that night while sweeping wide strokes of royal purple over it.
In February, Alex told Nadine that, although she was a nice girl, he wasn’t looking to pursue a relationship. Heartbroken over her shattered hope, she spent that evening crying through her finger-painting of drooping midnight blue waves down the wall.
In March, Nadine saw Alex kissing a cheerleader in the hallway between classes. Though she showed no reaction at school, she stormed into her basement that afternoon to hurl water balloons filled with scarlet red paint at the wall.
In April, Nadine walked past Alex and his new girlfriend holding hands as they made their way to American History. Still she said nothing, but she took time out of that late afternoon to fleck the wall with bright spots of poison green.
In May, the girls with whom Nadine had been slowly forming a friendship spent their lunch break consoling her and reassuring her that Alex was the one missing out on a great relationship. She continued to keep her emotions to herself in school, but her renewed enthusiasm drove her to spend time later that day painting bright orange bands over the gloomier colors on the wall.
In June, Nadine’s friend Amanda knocked on her front door, intent on returning the yearbook carelessly forgotten on the bus. The man who answered the door directed the visitor downstairs, where his daughter was busy channeling her creative energy. It was only when Amanda entered the basement and saw Nadine draped in a paint-stained poncho before a colorful wall that the truth finally came to light: beneath the deceptive palette of grays was a beautiful rainbow.
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The Wolfe's (Writing) Den by J.C. Wolfe is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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