by Naomi L. | May 16, 2014 | J.C. Wolfe's Writing, Poetry |
I’m so sick.
I’m tired.
Did I fail?
Have I done anything right?
Am I doing anything right?
What do my feelings count for?
Anything?
Are they worthless?
Am I worthless?
No, I’m not.
I hate feeling so lonely.
I don’t talk to anyone.
But I want to.
I miss talking to someone.
I just want to be heard.
Is there any respect for me?
For how I feel?
I feel undermined,
Without value.
I’m afraid.
I’ve brought this on myself
Because I’m afraid.
Afraid of what they will say.
I don’t want their advice sometimes.
I just want someone to listen.
I’ve been reduced to talking to myself.
Because I feel like only I hear me.
Someone please listen.
Please listen.
Please.
I feel so alone.
I’m not like you.
My feelings don’t go away
With just a smile.
They come back,
Even worse,
If left unshared.
They must be set free.
I can’t let go.
I’m not like you.
I can’t let go
Of my sadness
And anger
And fear,
Not by myself.
I have to release them
To the world.
I want to scream,
And break things,
And hurt myself
When I’m left alone too long.
The feelings build up inside me,
And I can’t let them go by myself.
They have nowhere to go,
So they come back.
They need somewhere to go.
So I need to be heard.
I need someone to listen,
And not make me afraid to speak.
Do not undermine me.
Do not belittle my emotions.
Respect me.
They are big to me,
They are important to me.
Listen,
And they will be set free.
And I will be free.
While feeling particularly blue one day, I decided to turn my angst into a writing exercise. I took a pencil and a sheet of paper and just kept writing nonstop until I reached the bottom of the page. This is what came out. The poem is made purely of raw emotion; the only editing I did was to arrange one long paragraph into poetic verses. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
by Naomi L. | March 28, 2014 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
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!
by Naomi L. | March 7, 2014 | J.C. Wolfe's Writing, Short Stories |
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!)
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