Ode to a Wonderful Mother
Is there a way I can thank you for all you’ve done for me?
Letting me grow up free while keeping me safe?
Opening so many doors for me throughout my childhood?
Voicing lessons that I could take with me for life?
Encouraging me every day to succeed?
Your love is the greatest blessing of all, for
Only you do everything to make me the best I can be, yet
Understand how to love me just the way I am.
Many things you’ve done for me, but I do have
One way to say thank you:
Mommy, I love you!
Happy Mother’s Day to my amazing mom! Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me, and what you continue to do for me every day! God bless you always! I love you!
The Visitor
Its skin was pale green, it had a dozen eyes, and it crawled on eight long spindly legs.
Evolution had made its teeth sharp to tear through the tough tissue of the vegetation on its native planet.
It had come to Earth to taste some exotic salads. Sadly, the local wildlife thought it had come to taste them.
The translators were all aboard the ship. It never had a chance to explain.
Based on a writing prompt from Writer’s Carnival: Alien Madness!
Create an alien life form. Describe what it looks like and what its habits are using no more than 100 words.
I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Dirty Little Secret
“What’s that?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all.”
“Hey, don’t hide it! I wanna see!”
“No, you don’t. You really, really don’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you. Trust me, you’d freak out.”
“What do you take me for?”
“Honestly? …A prude.”
“What?! Now I have to know!”
“Ow! Let go! No, give it back!”
“Why? What’s- Oh my god…”
“I can explain…”
“Please don’t. You were right; I didn’t wanna know.”
“…Can I have it back?”
“…Fine. Just promise you’ll never let me find it again.”
Based on a writing prompt from Writer’s Carnival: Keep It Secret!
Using dialogue only, and no more than 15 lines, write a scene between two people. One is keeping a secret from the other. Don’t mention the secret.
As you can imagine, I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
The Temptress
Her skin glows a pale blue-green in the moonlight.
Her eyes shine like emeralds, hypnotizing anyone who dares to gaze into them.
She sings ethereal melodies that melt the coldest of hearts.
Her voice lures the unwitting into her company.
The razor-sharp claws and teeth are what keep them there forever.
Based on a writing prompt from Writer’s Carnival: Make Me a Monster!
Using no more than five sentences, create a new monster. You can make it as silly or scary as you want.
It’s not the most original creation, but it was still fun to imagine. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
The View from My Bedroom Window
Man, the view from my window is awesome! Seriously, you have no idea. The real upside to living in the suburbs is being able to look outside and see Nature’s work of art, you know, instead of a concrete landscape. When I look outside, I can see mountains weaving across the horizon, beautiful green mountains all covered in trees and grass. I can see the ocean far away, this big blue bay surrounded by beaches. I can see the forest stretching out everywhere, with all these vivid colors and wild animals around, mostly the birds that are always flying by. I can see houses lining the roads down the hill, and a little church on the hill right across from my window, with bells that ring every Sunday morning. I can see white clouds rolling by on clear days, and the sun setting behind the mountains in the afternoon. I can see a blending palette of greens and blues, plus whatever colors are painted on the houses. I get to look out my window whenever I want and see something beautiful every single day.
The view from my window is awesome. Why? Because it really captures so much of the natural beauty of Brazil.
I wrote this short piece a few years ago as part of a writing exercise to practice the element of voice. The exercise is to describe the view from your bedroom window as casually as if you were speaking to someone, so as to capture the essence of your natural voice in your writing. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Take Me Away
Standing here within my bedroom,
Looking through the open window,
Staring out onto the street,
I see nothing.
Lying still upon my bed
As the sun recedes outside,
Breathing slowly, my eyes closed,
I hear nothing.
When I walk across my campus,
When I move along the streets,
When I stand at my front door,
I feel nothing.
Why am I here?
It was no fault of mine.
It was no choice of mine.
It was no wish of mine.
And yet, here I am.
In a world where I am blind,
In a world where I am deaf,
In a world where I don’t feel.
I am lost.
But I will be found.
I look out my open window.
To the north, I turn my gaze.
The horizon in the distance
Hides a place of better days.
For beyond the north horizon
Lie the promises of change.
The promise of dreams,
The promise of hope,
The promise of love.
My body is here.
My mind is here.
But my heart wanders elsewhere,
In that land to the north.
My past was not here.
My future is not here.
My life will not be here.
Not here, but in the north.
So come and find me where I lie.
Hear me as I breathe a sigh.
See me as I close my eyes
And very gently start to cry.
Come sit beside me, wipe my tears.
Raise my hopes and drown my fears.
Tell me that you’re here today
So I can smile and hear you say
That you came to take me away.
Yet another old poem I recently dug up. This one was written a few years ago, at a time when I was feeling especially homesick for America. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
I was inspired to share this poem after reading this blog post by Vanessa Levin-Pompetzki. You should totally check out her blog. She’s pretty awesome!
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!
Special Delivery (Script)
CHARACTERS
JOANNE
A divorced, middle-aged receptionist. She is lonely and depressed, and has long lost faith in the idea of a better life.
HENRY
A middle-aged deliveryman. He is friendly and very attractive.
MARY
A secretary, and a friend of Joanne’s.
SETTING
Office break room. A water cooler with a stack of plastic cups stands in the middle by a wastebasket and a counter, which holds a sink, a coffeemaker, some mugs, a basket of assorted snacks, and a roll of paper towels. A small square table stands in the center of the room, surrounded by a few wooden chairs. A clock hangs on the wall over the counter.
TIME
Mid-afternoon, the last five minutes of Joanne’s 15-minute break.
ACT I
Scene 1 – Office break room. Now.
ACT I
Scene 1
(Two women in professional attire are chatting in an office break room. Joanne stands next to the water cooler in the middle. Mary stands closer to the door on the stage right. Joanne is drinking coffee from one of the mugs.)
MARY
So then he tries to tell me that his mother’s only staying with him until she finds her own place, but by then the mood is already DOA, you know?
JOANNE
(looks at wall clock)
Uh-huh.
MARY
So what did you do last night?
JOANNE
Oh, you know, just stayed in. Ordered Chinese, went through my mail. By the way, I got my first check today.
MARY
Your first alimony check? That must have been exciting.
JOANNE
You would think.
MARY
Oh, come on! The guy was a jerk; you said so yourself! If you ask me, he should be paying double for putting you through hell all those years.
JOANNE
He was my husband, Mary. And yeah, he was a jerk, but it’s not like it was hell the whole time we were together.
MARY
Just enough at the end for you to leave him.
JOANNE
Exactly: I left him. I don’t want him in my life anymore. That’s why I moved away. I thought I was done with him, but then I got the check in the mail and, I don’t know… it was like he suddenly came back. And now I keep thinking that every month, I’ll be getting a personal reminder in the mail that he’s still around, hanging over my head.
MARY
Don’t stress about it, Joanne. That feeling goes away. You’ll be fine.
(glances at wall clock)
Hey, I gotta get back to work. Mr. Clark wants those papers filed and on his desk before he gets back from his meeting.
JOANNE
All right. I should get back to the front desk too.
MARY
You’ve still got five minutes of break left.
JOANNE
I know, but the temp is new, and if he screws something up, it’ll be my head.
MARY
(shrugs)
Suit yourself. See you later.
(Exit Mary. Joanne places her mug in the sink. A knock sounds at the door on the stage left. Joanne turns around as a good-looking man enters, wearing a brown uniform and holding a medium-sized cardboard box in his arms. Sandwiched between his left arm and the box is a clipboard.)
HENRY
Excuse me? I have a package here for Clark & Walker Importers.
(Joanne doesn’t react, staring at the man. Henry hesitates, then clears his throat.)
HENRY (continued)
This is the right floor, right? I can’t seem to find the front desk.
JOANNE
(snapping out of her “trance”)
Oh, yes! Yes, this is Clark & Walker. Um, I can sign for that. I’m the receptionist.
HENRY
Oh, good. Thank you.
JOANNE
(looks Henry up and down)
Would you like some water? I know the elevator’s out of order. It must have been a long walk up the stairs.
HENRY
(smiles)
OK, yes, thank you.
(Henry walks to the middle of the room to place the box and clipboard on the table. Joanne turns around to fill a plastic cup with water from the water cooler. She turns back and bumps into Henry, spilling the water onto his shirt and the box.)
JOANNE
Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!
HENRY
(wiping at his shirt with his hands)
No, no, it’s all right, really!
(Joanne puts the cup on the counter, then takes the roll of paper towels and places it on the table. She and Henry start ripping off sheets and using them to dry Henry’s shirt and the box.)
JOANNE
I’m really sorry…
(pauses to read the name tag on the front of his shirt)
…Henry.
HENRY
(laughs)
It’s OK! Really, it’s fine.
(Henry pulls up his sleeves and reaches for the paper towels again. Joanne stops to stare at his tattooed arms. Henry notices and pauses.)
HENRY (continued)
You like ’em? This cross here…
(points at his left wrist)
…I’ve had since I was 21. Always been a newborn Christian. Jesus helped me through a lot of bad times. And this…
(holds up his right arm so Joanne can read the two words tattooed there)
…”Carpe Diem”. Means “Seize the day” in Latin. Got that one the week after running into an ex-girlfriend who told me she was engaged. Kept thinking I should have proposed when I had the chance. After that, I told myself I’d never make that mistake again. Seize the day, you know?
(Joanne smiles as Henry reaches for the paper towels again. The two finish drying the box and Henry’s shirt.)
JOANNE
(timidly)
You still want that water?
HENRY
Sure, long as it comes in the cup this time.
(Joanne chuckles and picks up the cup again to refill it at the water cooler. She gives the cup to Henry, who hands her the clipboard to sign, along with a pen from his front pocket. While Joanne reaches out to take it, Henry stares at her fingers.)
HENRY (continued)
Tan line?
JOANNE
I’m sorry?
HENRY
On your finger. Is that a tan line?
JOANNE
(glances at her left ring finger)
Oh! Yes, it is. I’m recently divorced. Just signed the final papers last month.
HENRY
I’m sorry to hear that.
JOANNE
Don’t be; it’s fine.
(signs the paper on the clipboard)
He wasn’t so bad at first. He just… wasn’t the guy I thought he was. Didn’t respect me, put me down, made me feel like my dreams were pointless. You know how it is: one day, you wake up and think, “I’m done with this.” So I left. Moved to a new town, got a job as a receptionist, and that was that.
(looks up at Henry, suddenly embarrassed)
I’m sorry! I’m rambling. You don’t care about any of this stuff.
HENRY
(in awe)
No, no! I admire that, honest!
(Joanne offers the pen back to Henry. He pauses as his fingers close around it and touch her fingers.)
HENRY (continued)
(suddenly bold)
I think I’d like to see you again. You wanna get coffee sometime?
JOANNE
(smiles timidly)
That would be lovely.
(Joanne takes the pen back and scribbles on the bottom of the clipboard. Henry drinks the rest of his water and tosses the cup in the wastebasket. Joanne hands the pen and clipboard back to Henry. He turns the clipboard right-side up to read the writing on the bottom.)
HENRY
Joanne…
(looks up at Joanne with a smile)
All right, I’ll give you a call later this week.
JOANNE
Sounds great! I look forward to it.
HENRY
It was nice meeting you, Joanne. Take care now.
JOANNE
Thanks. You too, Henry.
(With a friendly wave, Henry walks back to the door on the stage left, clipboard under his arm. Exit Henry. Joanne picks up the box and walks to the door on the stage right with a smile. Exit Joanne.)
(Blackout.)
This script is the second half of a two-part writing exercise I gave myself a few years ago. The exercise is to write the same story twice: once as a narrative with no direct dialogue, and once as a script for a stage play. The idea is to explore the differences between narrative and pure dialogue, in order to get a feel of how writing in one format differs from writing in the other. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Be sure to check out last Friday’s post to read this story again as a narrative!
(Note: I apologize for the flawed script formatting in this post. The piece was actually formatted correctly in my word processor, but for some reason, I couldn’t adjust it properly in the WordPress editor. Oh well, I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thank you!)
Special Delivery (Narrative)
Joanne stood idly by the water cooler in the break room, staring blankly at the opposite wall as she held a small plastic cup filled with water in her right hand while using her left to lean against the counter. She sighed as she brought the cup to her lips, her thoughts drifting off into the same disheartening flashback of her life story that they always found at this hour. How exactly had she ended up here? She’d had such high hopes in her youth. A 20-year-old Joanne had dreamed of becoming a successful businesswoman, of traveling across Europe, of marrying a decent man with whom she could someday spend a golden anniversary. Now twice that idealistic age, she found herself divorced, lonely, and answering phones for a living. What had become of her life?
The middle-aged receptionist checked her watch. Her break was almost over. She might as well return to her desk; Heaven forbid the temp should screw something up and she would have to take the heat for it. After all, what else did she have left to hold on to but her menial job?
Just as she threw her empty cup in the wastebasket, however, there came a knock at the open door.
Joanne looked up to see a handsome man stepping into the break room. He was tall and well built, probably in his mid-to-late thirties. He sported a plain brown uniform, and in his arms he carried a large box, no doubt containing the office supplies the staff had ordered a week ago.
The man asked to whom exactly he had been sent to deliver the box. Joanne smiled awkwardly, suddenly flustered. What nice eyes this man had. She had never noticed how attractive hazel eyes could be, almost like little topaz stones. After a few quiet seconds, the deliveryman repeated his question, and Joanne snapped out of her trance to answer that she was the receptionist and she could sign for the package.
The man nodded once with a smile and entered the room. Joanne asked if he would like some water, and turned around to face the water cooler after he accepted her offer. Unfortunately, she didn’t notice how quickly he made it to the table to unload the box; the moment she turned around, the two collided, and the gentleman’s outfit was splashed with water spilt from the cup.
The woman apologized profusely for her clumsiness and quickly reached for the paper towels on the countertop as the man insisted it was quite all right. Joanne helped him to wipe most of the excess water off the box and his shirt, and as she dabbed at the brown fabric covering his shoulder, she caught sight of the name tag sown into the clothing over his chest. Henry. What a perfectly nice name, well suited for such a nice man.
Henry grabbed another paper towel, pulling his sleeves up a little as he wiped his hands. That was when Joanne caught sight of a pair of tattoos, one on each of his arms. The left arm had a plain evangelical cross over the wrist, while the right arm bore a Latin phrase: “Carpe diem”.
The man smiled at the sight of the woman looking curiously at his tattoos. Seize the day, that’s what it meant. He had been trying to live his life by those words ever since he found out an ex-girlfriend he once loved was marrying another man. Maybe he should have proposed to her when he had the chance. As for the cross, it had been there for 15 years, since he was 21, as a constant reminder of his unfaltering faith in Jesus. After all, what was life without faith? The receptionist smiled, fascinated.
Joanne offered Henry some more water. He accepted, on the condition that this time it come inside the cup. She chuckled. A handsome face and a good sense of humor. How charming! The woman handed the refilled plastic cup to the man, who gladly took it from her in exchange for the clipboard holding the paper she needed to sign to receive the package.
The deliveryman handed the receptionist a pen, catching a glimpse of her hand as she reached for it. No ring? Not possible; she was an attractive woman. A closer look, however, revealed a faint tan line where a wedding band must have been for some years.
Henry inquired about his discovery. Joanne blushed. Yes, she was recently divorced, having only just signed the final papers last month. Her ex-husband didn’t respect her enough, so she explained. Turned out he wasn’t the man she thought he was. He put her down, made her feel like her dreams were hopeless fantasies, so one day she left him. Moved to a new city, got a simple job as a receptionist, and that was that.
Suddenly realizing she was rambling to a complete stranger, the receptionist hastily apologized, but the deliveryman smiled brightly. It must have taken a lot of courage for her to turn her life around like that in the hopes of finding something better. Carpe diem.
Joanne handed the pen back to Henry. He paused as his fingers closed around the pen and touched hers. Carpe diem… He might not see this woman again, but he was certain he wanted to. Maybe she’d like to get coffee sometime? Joanne laughed, a cheery melodious sound she hadn’t heard herself make in a long time. Yes, that would be lovely. She eagerly took the pen back to write her phone number at the bottom of the clipboard, then handed everything back to the deliveryman.
Henry tossed out the empty cup and smiled as he took the clipboard and pen, looking down at the former to read the name scribbled in neat cursive handwriting. Joanne, a pretty name to match a pretty face. With a polite nod and farewell, he was out the door. Still blushing profusely, Joanne picked up the package and carried it back to her desk with a broad grin on her face, somehow feeling that a lot more than a box full of office supplies had been brought into her life that day.
This short story is the first half of a two-part writing exercise I gave myself a few years ago. The exercise is to write the same story twice: once as a narrative with no direct dialogue, and once as a script for a stage play. The idea is to explore the differences between narrative and pure dialogue, in order to get a feel of how writing in one format differs from writing in the other. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Be sure to check in next week to read this story again as a scene in a play!
A Friend for Life
A friend is a gift.
Someone you can talk to,
Someone you can trust,
Someone you love.
A true friend is a treasure.
Someone who talks to you,
Someone who is there for you,
Someone who loves you.
A true friend is
The greatest gift in the world.
And I’ve had one
My whole life.
You teach me much about life.
You talk to me freely about anything.
You watched me grow up
And helped me become
The person I am today.
And still you’re always there for me,
Letting me know you love me.
So thank you for everything
You’ve ever done for me.
Thank you for being a role model.
Thank you for being a leader.
Thank you for being a teacher.
But most of all,
Thank you for being
A friend for life.
Dedicated to my dad, an amazing father and one of the best friends I’ve ever had. Happy Birthday, Daddy! I love you!
About J.C. Wolfe
Follow The Wolfe's (Writing) Den on WordPress.com
Read More…
Copyright
The Wolfe's (Writing) Den by J.C. Wolfe is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Recent Comments