Writing Advice
Jennifer wrote: "What works for me might not work for you."
Among other things.
Monday, September 16, 2002
Sunday, September 15, 2002
Sam the Stupid, Part 2
(Based on a 10-minute exercise generated by WriteThis - 9/14/02 1:54:45 AM in which the main character is someone I have written about before, takes place in someone else's home, and the story is told in the first person)
Jeez, I can't believe I'm writin' 'bout Sam again. I used to think that he was gonna get better at life, but he kept gettin' more and more stupid. At least that is how I and many others in town viewed him.
One time, when me and some other buddies was at Jim's house about to go do some fishin', Sam came a knockin' on the door. He had just come out of the pen, and he was wearin' all his clothes this time.
But, since it was only dawn, he bein' stupid and all, was only wearin' his pajama britches.
"Can I come, too?" Same asked.
"Sam, you silly man," Mrs. Jim's Wife answered, "you know you can't just go invitin' youself to other people's gatherin's. Especially when all you're wearin' is yo' pj's! Lemme go see if Jim and 'em want you to come along. Hold it right there, an' I'll be back."
"Aight," Sam the Stupid replied.
Mrs. Jim's Wife didn't even let Sam inside. I now understand, having been ovair at Jim's house during the day. That living room resembles the rest of the room - not child proof one bit. And if it weren't child proof, then it weren't also Sam the Stupid proof.
Jimmy, Dean, Ben, and I come out to the livin' room after Jim's wife told us that Sam was outside waitin' for us.
"Sam, when did you git out of the pen?" Dean asked.
"Oh, just last night. I'm lookin' for a bit to eat, an' I heard y'all were going fishin', so I wanted to tagalong."
"Sam, you can come with us, but you gotta git some different clothes, dude…"
(Based on a 10-minute exercise generated by WriteThis - 9/14/02 1:54:45 AM in which the main character is someone I have written about before, takes place in someone else's home, and the story is told in the first person)
Jeez, I can't believe I'm writin' 'bout Sam again. I used to think that he was gonna get better at life, but he kept gettin' more and more stupid. At least that is how I and many others in town viewed him.
One time, when me and some other buddies was at Jim's house about to go do some fishin', Sam came a knockin' on the door. He had just come out of the pen, and he was wearin' all his clothes this time.
But, since it was only dawn, he bein' stupid and all, was only wearin' his pajama britches.
"Can I come, too?" Same asked.
"Sam, you silly man," Mrs. Jim's Wife answered, "you know you can't just go invitin' youself to other people's gatherin's. Especially when all you're wearin' is yo' pj's! Lemme go see if Jim and 'em want you to come along. Hold it right there, an' I'll be back."
"Aight," Sam the Stupid replied.
Mrs. Jim's Wife didn't even let Sam inside. I now understand, having been ovair at Jim's house during the day. That living room resembles the rest of the room - not child proof one bit. And if it weren't child proof, then it weren't also Sam the Stupid proof.
Jimmy, Dean, Ben, and I come out to the livin' room after Jim's wife told us that Sam was outside waitin' for us.
"Sam, when did you git out of the pen?" Dean asked.
"Oh, just last night. I'm lookin' for a bit to eat, an' I heard y'all were going fishin', so I wanted to tagalong."
"Sam, you can come with us, but you gotta git some different clothes, dude…"
Thursday, September 12, 2002
Announcement from Status.Blogger.Com: Blog*Spot Web Server Maintenance
From midnight to 3 AM Eastern time on Friday, 13 September 2002, the Blog*Spot file server, which contains this and other weblogs with "blogspot.com" in the URL, will be down for maintenance. So, from that time - midnight to 3 AM EDT - Streams of Consciousness will be unavailable.
From midnight to 3 AM Eastern time on Friday, 13 September 2002, the Blog*Spot file server, which contains this and other weblogs with "blogspot.com" in the URL, will be down for maintenance. So, from that time - midnight to 3 AM EDT - Streams of Consciousness will be unavailable.
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Sam the Stupid
(Based on a 15-minute exercise generated by WriteThis - 9/10/02 1:26:48 AM in which the main character is a criminal, the story is a comedy and takes place inside a shop, the main character is a criminal, and a hat is somehow involved. The dialect was my own choice.)
Poor Sam. The day he got put in the pen was a hoot, although not everyone thought so. I’m fixin to tell you what happened that day.
I’ve known Sam since we was both boys growin’ up on the same road. As we got older, we had to stop playing together, mainly 'cuz mama said he was bein' a bad influence on me er somethin' like that.
One mornin’ when I was walking to school, I stopped by the donut shop to get a small bit to eat. I looked out the window and saw Sam running up the sidewalk, clutchin' a donkey hat. Now you may a be wonderin' what the heck's a donkey hat, but that's not as important as what I'm gonna tell ya next.
Ya see, Sam wernt wearin' anything but that donkey hat he had on his head. Well, okay, he was wearin' some britches. I gotta say that 'cuz I don't wantcha gettin' all embarrassed and everything.
Behind Sam was old man Pappy, a huffin’ and a puffin’, holding in one hand a shotgun. In another hand he was holding onto what looked like the rest of Sam's clothes!
Now, I thought Sam was gonna keep on runnin' up the street, but he didn't do that at all. Instead he ran right into the donut shop where I and some other adults was.
"Quick, Donny, ya gotta help me! I found that donkey hat we used to be lookin' fore back when we was eight!" Sam cried out, looking out the window to see if ole man Pappy saw him duck into the donut shop.
Now I was gettin' kinda worried. You see that hat he was holdin' onto was part of ole man Pappy's vaudeville act, an some folks considered it to be an antique. When we was younger, we decided it would be a neat prank to steal that hat and hoist it up the school flagpole for everyone to see. We was so bored, as I'm sure you can tell. I mean some kids go swimmin' and play tag, but us, we were into stealin' stuff.
Well, Sam was a-runnin' around lookin' for a place to hide, when he tripped on a banana peel and took a spill to the floor. Me and the other folks in the store bust out laughin’. But none of that kept him from gettin' back up. No, siree. He got back up and dove over the counter.
Remember when I told you he weren't wearing anythin' but his britches? Well, from divin' over the counter to hide, his britches got caught on the corner and they all but got torn off of him. So now he's runnin' around with that dang donkey hat and his britches nearly off.
Everyone in the donut shop was laughin' so hard they about peed on themselves. 'Til ole man Pappy came inside the shop.
(Based on a 15-minute exercise generated by WriteThis - 9/10/02 1:26:48 AM in which the main character is a criminal, the story is a comedy and takes place inside a shop, the main character is a criminal, and a hat is somehow involved. The dialect was my own choice.)
Poor Sam. The day he got put in the pen was a hoot, although not everyone thought so. I’m fixin to tell you what happened that day.
I’ve known Sam since we was both boys growin’ up on the same road. As we got older, we had to stop playing together, mainly 'cuz mama said he was bein' a bad influence on me er somethin' like that.
One mornin’ when I was walking to school, I stopped by the donut shop to get a small bit to eat. I looked out the window and saw Sam running up the sidewalk, clutchin' a donkey hat. Now you may a be wonderin' what the heck's a donkey hat, but that's not as important as what I'm gonna tell ya next.
Ya see, Sam wernt wearin' anything but that donkey hat he had on his head. Well, okay, he was wearin' some britches. I gotta say that 'cuz I don't wantcha gettin' all embarrassed and everything.
Behind Sam was old man Pappy, a huffin’ and a puffin’, holding in one hand a shotgun. In another hand he was holding onto what looked like the rest of Sam's clothes!
Now, I thought Sam was gonna keep on runnin' up the street, but he didn't do that at all. Instead he ran right into the donut shop where I and some other adults was.
"Quick, Donny, ya gotta help me! I found that donkey hat we used to be lookin' fore back when we was eight!" Sam cried out, looking out the window to see if ole man Pappy saw him duck into the donut shop.
Now I was gettin' kinda worried. You see that hat he was holdin' onto was part of ole man Pappy's vaudeville act, an some folks considered it to be an antique. When we was younger, we decided it would be a neat prank to steal that hat and hoist it up the school flagpole for everyone to see. We was so bored, as I'm sure you can tell. I mean some kids go swimmin' and play tag, but us, we were into stealin' stuff.
Well, Sam was a-runnin' around lookin' for a place to hide, when he tripped on a banana peel and took a spill to the floor. Me and the other folks in the store bust out laughin’. But none of that kept him from gettin' back up. No, siree. He got back up and dove over the counter.
Remember when I told you he weren't wearing anythin' but his britches? Well, from divin' over the counter to hide, his britches got caught on the corner and they all but got torn off of him. So now he's runnin' around with that dang donkey hat and his britches nearly off.
Everyone in the donut shop was laughin' so hard they about peed on themselves. 'Til ole man Pappy came inside the shop.
Saturday, September 07, 2002
Author Mania
"Help for writers, how to write, writing resources and tips. Learn the art of writing, become an author. Learn how to build your story or novel. Get the information you need to create your book or short story, and make your words sell!"
Elisha Charles' Author Mania has information about markets, humor articles, how to articles, helpful author and writing links, writing and author resources. Readers can also sign up to receive a newsletter.
"Help for writers, how to write, writing resources and tips. Learn the art of writing, become an author. Learn how to build your story or novel. Get the information you need to create your book or short story, and make your words sell!"
Elisha Charles' Author Mania has information about markets, humor articles, how to articles, helpful author and writing links, writing and author resources. Readers can also sign up to receive a newsletter.
Thursday, September 05, 2002
Romantic Movements - VII. Permission
(At night the cars rushing back and forth through the heart of the
city are its blood its vital fluid)
They are enjoying this cool summer night those two with the windows
open and the fresh summer air breezing in
There they are in his apartment in the sky with its azure wall and
light blue-gray curtains with its cloud-soft furniture
The miniature jazz band rests atop the hi-fi playing the soft slow
mellow music they both wish to hear the piano player's caressing of
the keys reminds him how her hair caresses her shoulders the saxophones
spray him with the scent of Misty cologne
She in her white high heels and pink satiny dress saunters over to
him in his white pleated pants and his white Italian jacket concealing
a turquoise tee shirt
(At night the cars rushing back and forth through the heart of the
city are its blood its vital fluid)
They are enjoying this cool summer night those two with the windows
open and the fresh summer air breezing in
There they are in his apartment in the sky with its azure wall and
light blue-gray curtains with its cloud-soft furniture
The miniature jazz band rests atop the hi-fi playing the soft slow
mellow music they both wish to hear the piano player's caressing of
the keys reminds him how her hair caresses her shoulders the saxophones
spray him with the scent of Misty cologne
She in her white high heels and pink satiny dress saunters over to
him in his white pleated pants and his white Italian jacket concealing
a turquoise tee shirt
Romantic Movements - VI. Reunion
"I've missed you." The words which reverberate inside my head
each time I relive this encounter.
"You never gave an address, a phone number, or anything else
that would have enabled me to communicate with you. Before we
left school, you were all that was on my mind. You're breaking my
heart."
"You know I've had a boyfriend."
"It's weird that ladies like you pursue the one you like and
who hardly cares for you while the one who really cares is right by
your side. People say love is a two-way street, but I disagree."
"What do you want from me?"
"Probably something you'll never be able to give. My feelings
are so intimate and warm, and they desire to escape. ONe night is
all I ask for. Can we be alone for one night before you return?
I promise I won't pressure you into doing anything you don't want
to do. You lead the way. You tell me when to stop. I just want
to feel a little of my love come back to me."
"I've missed you." The words which reverberate inside my head
each time I relive this encounter.
"You never gave an address, a phone number, or anything else
that would have enabled me to communicate with you. Before we
left school, you were all that was on my mind. You're breaking my
heart."
"You know I've had a boyfriend."
"It's weird that ladies like you pursue the one you like and
who hardly cares for you while the one who really cares is right by
your side. People say love is a two-way street, but I disagree."
"What do you want from me?"
"Probably something you'll never be able to give. My feelings
are so intimate and warm, and they desire to escape. ONe night is
all I ask for. Can we be alone for one night before you return?
I promise I won't pressure you into doing anything you don't want
to do. You lead the way. You tell me when to stop. I just want
to feel a little of my love come back to me."
Romantic Movements - V. Fear
I don't want to say good night I really want to stay but if I wound
up staying I'd wonder what you'd say...
You don't feel the same as I you don't like me in that way that's
why all my sunny days turn out to be so gray...
So don't ask me what is wrong I won't know what to say my words do
all betray me my thoughts would be displayed...
I don't want to say good night I really want to stay but if I wound
up staying I'd wonder what you'd say...
You don't feel the same as I you don't like me in that way that's
why all my sunny days turn out to be so gray...
So don't ask me what is wrong I won't know what to say my words do
all betray me my thoughts would be displayed...
Romantic Movements - IV. Worship?
She looks so beautiful so radiant oh how I adore her when she
emanates this sensuality I can see it in her eyes the magnetism
draws me closer to her every minute every morning I wake up in a
fever my body soaking wet she is my obsession...
I wish it wouldn't be like this she knows just how I feel but neither
does nor says anything it's as though she mocks my desire my rising
passion...
She looks so beautiful so radiant oh how I adore her when she
emanates this sensuality I can see it in her eyes the magnetism
draws me closer to her every minute every morning I wake up in a
fever my body soaking wet she is my obsession...
I wish it wouldn't be like this she knows just how I feel but neither
does nor says anything it's as though she mocks my desire my rising
passion...
Romantic Movements - III. Passion?
I love her oh so dearly she loves me not as nearly she breaks my
heart in places now there are only little traces in what used to
be so full...
Now it's hard for me to pull myself together and say I love her
to this day...
Sometimes I get down and pray if there could be a way that we
could be together...
But something tells me it will never ever happen 'cause mine is
just too strong and hers is just too weak that the thing I wish to
have is out of my reach...
I love her oh so dearly she loves me not as nearly she breaks my
heart in places now there are only little traces in what used to
be so full...
Now it's hard for me to pull myself together and say I love her
to this day...
Sometimes I get down and pray if there could be a way that we
could be together...
But something tells me it will never ever happen 'cause mine is
just too strong and hers is just too weak that the thing I wish to
have is out of my reach...
Romantic Movements - II. Pain
Such shrill shrieks are heard from above from those who suffer from
unrequited love their only need is to succeed in getting what they
want the memories continue to haunt them causing their eventual
destruction such corruption from those who want what they cannot
have...
Such shrill shrieks are heard from above from those who suffer from
unrequited love their only need is to succeed in getting what they
want the memories continue to haunt them causing their eventual
destruction such corruption from those who want what they cannot
have...
Romantic Movements - I. Confession
I've come to realize that what I like about you isn't your looks
as much as it is your ideas, your values, your emotions... Your
appearance is merely a shell. When I look at you and it appears that
I am staring, I'm looking inside of you. And when I smile it means
that I like what I am seeing.
Whenever you look sick or weary, I always want to reach out to you,
to feel your oppression and help you overcome it.
I know I am a hard person to understand. I'm unpredictable, and I
have a strange sense of humor. I also make several mistakes. But
I have inborn talents as well, and these need to be developed. I
need you to understand what I am saying because this is how I really
feel about you. And nothing can ever stop me from saying it.
I've come to realize that what I like about you isn't your looks
as much as it is your ideas, your values, your emotions... Your
appearance is merely a shell. When I look at you and it appears that
I am staring, I'm looking inside of you. And when I smile it means
that I like what I am seeing.
Whenever you look sick or weary, I always want to reach out to you,
to feel your oppression and help you overcome it.
I know I am a hard person to understand. I'm unpredictable, and I
have a strange sense of humor. I also make several mistakes. But
I have inborn talents as well, and these need to be developed. I
need you to understand what I am saying because this is how I really
feel about you. And nothing can ever stop me from saying it.
Trash
In the summer of 1986, I attended the Governor's Summer Institute for the Gifted and Talented at the University of Cincinnati. While there I attended a Poetry Workshop with some other high school juniors. For one of the exercises, we all came up with one word, and the entire group had to write their own poem, using those words or a variant of those words (e.g., using 'chin' instead of 'chinchilla' was okay).
If I can remember correctly, the words we had to work with were as follows: serendipity, soliloquy, chinchilla, rhetorical, oxymoron, understand, communicate, and manacle. Below is my contribution. Oh yeah, the last stanza is exactly how I felt after writing this piece. Fortunately, I don't feel that way now.
All because of serendipity --
The theatre director was amazed at
The way the man who portrayed the cat
Performed his soliloquy.
Standing on the stage in his costume,
He improvised a monologue.
Reminiscent of Shakespeare,
It still had relevance to the play.
"Why should the heavens
Take their anger on me?
Why must I walk
Under the formidable sky,
Which gives me such a chill,
With unpleasant joy?"
Thought the director:
A rhetorical question with an oxymoron
In a contemporary play --
With loads of symbolism
Was a creative idea.
Though no one understood it
The actor explained his question,
Which grabbed the audience's attention.
The director left the theatre
In search of more of those
With great communication skills.
And thus the young poet finishes his work,
Looks at it and tosses it into the trash.
In the summer of 1986, I attended the Governor's Summer Institute for the Gifted and Talented at the University of Cincinnati. While there I attended a Poetry Workshop with some other high school juniors. For one of the exercises, we all came up with one word, and the entire group had to write their own poem, using those words or a variant of those words (e.g., using 'chin' instead of 'chinchilla' was okay).
If I can remember correctly, the words we had to work with were as follows: serendipity, soliloquy, chinchilla, rhetorical, oxymoron, understand, communicate, and manacle. Below is my contribution. Oh yeah, the last stanza is exactly how I felt after writing this piece. Fortunately, I don't feel that way now.
All because of serendipity --
The theatre director was amazed at
The way the man who portrayed the cat
Performed his soliloquy.
Standing on the stage in his costume,
He improvised a monologue.
Reminiscent of Shakespeare,
It still had relevance to the play.
"Why should the heavens
Take their anger on me?
Why must I walk
Under the formidable sky,
Which gives me such a chill,
With unpleasant joy?"
Thought the director:
A rhetorical question with an oxymoron
In a contemporary play --
With loads of symbolism
Was a creative idea.
Though no one understood it
The actor explained his question,
Which grabbed the audience's attention.
The director left the theatre
In search of more of those
With great communication skills.
And thus the young poet finishes his work,
Looks at it and tosses it into the trash.
Forever My Love a song by Dan Johnson, Jr.
This one was written in the early 1990's. It's interesting, how, even though I haven't seen it in almost 10 years, the melody came back almost instantly.
You are a shelter from the storm
You keep me warm
Yes, you keep me warm
And I've come to you today
With so many things to say
I've got some things to say
CHORUS
You
Never need a thing
You
Provide everything
I
Can never give as much as you
But there's one thing that I can do --
Forever give my love
Back to you
An end to hate and strife
A brand new life
Yes, a brand new life
It is so plain to see
How you've loved me
God, how you've loved me
REPEAT CHORUS
My love for you has grown
You've made it known
Yes, you've made it known
What an awesome God you are
How close you are
Yes, how close you are
REPEAT CHORUS
You've taught me how to give
You've shown me how to live
What a great life to live
Relationships galore
You've given more
Given so much more
REPEAT CHORUS 2X
Forever give my love
Back to you
To you
This one was written in the early 1990's. It's interesting, how, even though I haven't seen it in almost 10 years, the melody came back almost instantly.
You are a shelter from the storm
You keep me warm
Yes, you keep me warm
And I've come to you today
With so many things to say
I've got some things to say
CHORUS
You
Never need a thing
You
Provide everything
I
Can never give as much as you
But there's one thing that I can do --
Forever give my love
Back to you
An end to hate and strife
A brand new life
Yes, a brand new life
It is so plain to see
How you've loved me
God, how you've loved me
REPEAT CHORUS
My love for you has grown
You've made it known
Yes, you've made it known
What an awesome God you are
How close you are
Yes, how close you are
REPEAT CHORUS
You've taught me how to give
You've shown me how to live
What a great life to live
Relationships galore
You've given more
Given so much more
REPEAT CHORUS 2X
Forever give my love
Back to you
To you
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
Monday, September 02, 2002
Cafe War Flashback
(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 8/30/02 4:15:56 AM)
A 15-minute exercise in which
I cannot believe that George is dead. My best friend in the entire world, now gone. I had often wondered where our caffeine binges would take us. I guess I need to re-evaluate my life some more.
George was gasping for breath, and the riot was in full effect. I had no idea he'd have a heart attack. We had finished our 50th mocha grande and had finally finished our Monopoly game. Some of you may think it's funny that we'd continue our Monopoly game amid a riot, but that's what I enjoyed about George's company.
After he'd finally purchased Boardwalk, we'd ordered our 10th mocha grande, this time without whipped cream, since the riot appeared to have begun over a whipped cream shortage. One thing I can definitely say about caffeine is that is keeps your senses alert to what is going around you.
That's what I was thinking when we began our Monopoly game. I had by that time finished my fifth mocha grande and I was giddy more than I have ever been before. George said he needed to do something to work off his already huge caffeine buzz. He had just finished his fourth mocha grande and was getting very jittery.
Prior to that when we walked into the Cafe we wondered why the staff appeared so jittery. Some of them muttered about missing the shipment of whipped cream, and they started arguing about that or something else. George and I were just glad to have our tickets accepted into the Cafe parlor.
I bought them earlier today, over the Internet, and since they were on sale as a "Buy One Get One Free", I knew I needed to ask George to join me. We both loved mocha grandes.
I remember talking with George over the phone, and he had mentioned that he had gotten two hours of sleep last night, and wasn't feeling that well. Yet he couldn't pass up the opportunity to join me for the grand opening of the new Cafe in our neighborhood.
George and I met at a Cafe across town a few years back. Neither of us drank much coffee, but we enjoyed the atmosphere and playing some of the games. The band that played was really cool as well. It's funny now that I think about it, he had mentioned that he had just gotten clean of the crack cocaine he'd been taking.
I asked him about his treatment, and he declined to talk about it. He only stated that if there was a hell on Earth, it must have been the clinic where he went to come clean.
George earlier mentioned that he took cocaine to help him stay awake in class. Funny, but I'd been having trouble staying awake as well at that time.
A 15-minute exercise in which
- A ticket plays an important part in the story.
- Main character has an addiction of some kind.
- Story takes place in a war zone.
- Must be written backwards in time.
I cannot believe that George is dead. My best friend in the entire world, now gone. I had often wondered where our caffeine binges would take us. I guess I need to re-evaluate my life some more.
George was gasping for breath, and the riot was in full effect. I had no idea he'd have a heart attack. We had finished our 50th mocha grande and had finally finished our Monopoly game. Some of you may think it's funny that we'd continue our Monopoly game amid a riot, but that's what I enjoyed about George's company.
After he'd finally purchased Boardwalk, we'd ordered our 10th mocha grande, this time without whipped cream, since the riot appeared to have begun over a whipped cream shortage. One thing I can definitely say about caffeine is that is keeps your senses alert to what is going around you.
That's what I was thinking when we began our Monopoly game. I had by that time finished my fifth mocha grande and I was giddy more than I have ever been before. George said he needed to do something to work off his already huge caffeine buzz. He had just finished his fourth mocha grande and was getting very jittery.
Prior to that when we walked into the Cafe we wondered why the staff appeared so jittery. Some of them muttered about missing the shipment of whipped cream, and they started arguing about that or something else. George and I were just glad to have our tickets accepted into the Cafe parlor.
I bought them earlier today, over the Internet, and since they were on sale as a "Buy One Get One Free", I knew I needed to ask George to join me. We both loved mocha grandes.
I remember talking with George over the phone, and he had mentioned that he had gotten two hours of sleep last night, and wasn't feeling that well. Yet he couldn't pass up the opportunity to join me for the grand opening of the new Cafe in our neighborhood.
George and I met at a Cafe across town a few years back. Neither of us drank much coffee, but we enjoyed the atmosphere and playing some of the games. The band that played was really cool as well. It's funny now that I think about it, he had mentioned that he had just gotten clean of the crack cocaine he'd been taking.
I asked him about his treatment, and he declined to talk about it. He only stated that if there was a hell on Earth, it must have been the clinic where he went to come clean.
George earlier mentioned that he took cocaine to help him stay awake in class. Funny, but I'd been having trouble staying awake as well at that time.
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