Incident at an Airport: Setting Exercise Part 2

As I watched people streaming into the airport, a limo pulled pulled up to the curb and I thought about what had to be done. Doors opened and four men wearing sunglasses and dark suits stepped out. I recognized them from the briefing files. Smith, Walters, Jenkins, and Young. Next, a man with gray hair and a moustache stepped out. Dr. Williams. The group entered the airport as the limo pulled away. I folded my newspaper, stuffed it into my jacket, and followed them in.

    One man stayed close to Dr. Williams. Smith. The other three men fanned out and followed at distance. I followed the group through the crowd. Businessmen with briefcases, university students with backpacks, and families juggling luggage and kids.

    The group reached the arrivals area and stopped. Dr. Williams looked anxiously at the arrivals exit. Smith stood close. The three other men stood further back and scanned the crowd. Walters turned and  looked in my direction. I looked up at the arrivals board and scanned the flights. He made his way towards me. I moved away from the crowd to an area with empty chairs and pulled out my phone. As Walters came up behind me I spun around and stabbed him with the knife I was holding in my other hand. A look of surprise flashed across his face. His eyes darted to the nearby crowds but nobody was looking. I eased him down onto one of the chairs. I pulled out my newspaper and laid it over his face. I patted him on the shoulder as I walked away.

    Passengers started flowing through the arrival doors. A young girl shouted. Dr. Williams smiled and waved. Suddenly Jenkins approached Smith, drew his weapon and shot him in the back. Smith fell to the ground. People screamed and began running. I was being pushed away. I tried to keep my eyes on the group. Dr. Williams held the young girl close, looking on in horror as Jenkins aimed for them. A shot rang out. Jenkins fell. I pushed against the current of people and made some headway. Smith was on the floor. His weapon fell from his hand and his head fell to the floor. Blood pooled from his body. Looks like they all hadn't turned.

    Young and I made eye contact. He glanced in the direction of Dr. Williams and the girl and then looked back at me. He fired into the crowd. A woman pushing a stroller fell to the floor. The stroller went flying and disappeared into the mass of people. I thought I could hear a child wailing. People were running at me from two directions. Young and I bolted for Dr. Williams. I was fighting against a swarm.

    Dr. Williams held the child close as he ran. I couldn’t get a clear shot. I pushed a man out of the way and I was finally free of the crowd. I aimed for Young as he aimed for Dr. Williams.

    We fired.

Afterword:

The exercise here was to experiment with a previously written work by switching the scene. I moved the character from the previous exercise from a hill to a crowded airport. The goal was to try to take a risk, to come up with a scene that is frightening or upsetting, or just beyond the bounds of what you’re comfortable with. I have no idea if I made it work and it came out more complicated that I intended, but it sure was a lot if fun trying. Oh, the typos. I keep finding then and fixing them. I enjoyed this exercise. It pushed me in new directions and made me try new things. I have to say I really prefer the previous version though. Next: Love of Music and Struggles with Creating

A Man Lying on a Hill, Looking Through a Rifle Scope: Setting Exercise Part 1

     I got down on the ground, laying down between a statue with broken wings and the dead body of the man I had just killed. I reached for my rifle and aimed between the iron gate of the graveyard, making sure to keep the barrel within the brush. I looked through the scope. I had a clear view of the street and the buildings below. A limo arrived. Two men in sunglasses stepped out. I recognized them from the files. Smith and Jenkins. No Walters though. He was lying next to me. They were followed by a man with gray hair and glasses. Dr. Williams. My target. At 3:15 a bell rang. Children began streaming out of school buildings. Smith and Jenkins stood guard. Children rushed past. Dr. Williams looked into the crowd. I had a clear view of the back of his head. Kids ran past the limo. A young girl shouted and Dr. Williams waved his hand. The girl raced across the yard with a big smile and jumped into his open arms. Smith and Jenkins moved in closer. Their weapons were drawn, held at their sides. Smith stepped next to Dr. Williams. He then brought his weapon to the side of Dr. Williams’ head. I fired and Smith went down. I brought the scope to Jenkins and fired again as he was raising his weapon. He went down. People screamed. Dr. Williams, holding the girl, spun around with a look of shock. He dropped to the ground covering the girl with his body. The driver jumped out of the limo with a weapon in his hand. As he aimed for Dr. Williams I fired. He went down.

   “Target is safe,” I said into my mic.

     I got up off the ground, placed my rifle in its case, and slung it over my shoulder. I stepped over the body and made my way down the other side of the hill. I heard sirens as I walked past the gravestones.

Afterword:

The exercise here was to take a simple setting, for example a man lying on a hill looking through a rifle scope, and try to undermine the reader’s expectations. The goal was to lead the reader in a different direction by not revealing the main character’s desire upfront, or by revealing a surprising motivation.

Things I learned:

In my first draft I had an extra scene in the beginning that kind of explains how the character got to the hill. I didn’t think that I could do this exercise without the extra scene. But by revising and revising again I was able to to keep it to one scene.

“Kill your darlings.” I had a line that I had a hard time cutting, a line I was so happy with when I first wrote it. By cutting the line and reworking the scene I came up with something better. Well, at least I hope I did.

Next: Setting Exercise Part 2

Three Men in Therapy: A Writing Exercise

    “Gentlemen. Come in. Have a seat,” the therapist said motioning towards the sofa.

    Three men walked into the office in single file. The first two plopped onto the sofa. The third one walked past the the sofa and sat down in an armchair.

    “Let’s begin, shall we?” the therapist said.

    “Sure. These two are fucking idiots,” said the man in the armchair. “Wow. That felt good. Thanks for this. It really helped.” He stood up.

    The therapist smiled. “Things come easy for you, don’t they?” Without waiting for a response he continued. “Please,” he said motioning to the armchair with an open palm. “You just arrived. Give me a chance before you rush out.”

    The man rolled his eyes and sat down.

    “Now, I understand that there are some hard feelings between you gentlemen.”

     This time the two men on the sofa stood up.

    “Hard feelings? Hard feelings?” said the shorter of the two. “We almost died.”

    “Yeah and who’s fault was that, I wonder?” said the man in the armchair looking up at the two standing men.

     “Seriously?” said the taller of the two. “How the hell were we supposed to know? You tell me. How?”

    The man in the sofa sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. Common sense maybe?”

    “This is bullshit man. We were just trying to live our lives,” said the shorter man.

    “Gentlemen. Please. Let’s take a closer look at that, shall we? Sit, sit,” said the therapist.      

    The two men sat back down.

    “You say you that you were just trying to live your lives. There are responsibilities associated with that, wouldn’t say? How much planning did you do beforehand?” The two men broke eye contact. Looked down at their feet.

    “Diddly squat. That’s how much fucking planning they did,” said the man in the armchair. “They put no thought into it. Just  “la di da” and we’re done. Then all hell breaks loose, and what do they do? They come crying and screaming to me for help.”

    The two men shifted on the sofa uncomfortably.

    “Not only did I put thought into living my life,” the man in the armchair said, “I put in the time and the effort.”

     “Because of that,” he said pointing to the two men on the couch, “I was able to do what I did. Save your shiny pink asses. His finger moved forward with each word.

     The taller man held his face in his hands. The shorter man was trembling as he spoke, “What the hell do you want from us?”

     “Well, that is why we’re all here now, isn’t it?” said the therapist.

     The man in the armchair stood up again. “I don’t want shit from these two losers. I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

    “Now is that anyway to talk about family?” the therapist said. The man sighed and sat back down.

    “Everything comes easy for you,” said the therapist. “Quick to catch on. Quick to make a decision. Always the right decisions. You planned and prepared extremely well where they, well did piss poorly. Have some patience.”

    The two men had questioning looks on their faces.

    “After the two of you were saved, what did you say?” asked the therapist.

    The two men looked at each other and then looked at the therapist.

     “Nothing,” said the shorter man.

    “We said nothing,” said the the taller man,

    The room was silent. The man in the armchair looked straight ahead, not looking at anything in particular.

    The therapist and the two men looked at each other. The therapist glanced at the man in the armchair, then looked back at the two men. The therapist shrugged.

    “We never…” said the shorter man.

    “...said thank you.” finished the taller man. “We never said thank you for saving our lives.”

    “Yeah,” the man in the armchair whispered as he looked away.

    “Thank you,” the two men said in unison.

    The man in the armchair stood up. The two men stood up. They looked and the therapist. He nodded.

    “Whatever. Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here,” the man who had been sitting in the armchair said. The two men hesitated. The man by the armchair motioned with his hand and said, “Come on, let’s go.” The three men went through the door.

    “‘Grass? Sticks? Really?” Said the man who had been sitting in the armchair. “What were you two knuckleheads thinking?”

    The door closed behind him. The therapist smiled.

Afterword:

The exercise here was to have characters from a folk tale or fairy tale talking to a therapist about their lives and problems, and for the therapist to arrive at a diagnosis. I played around with it a little and changed the characters into men. Not sure how successful I was but it sure was a fun.

Next: Comic Books and Childish Things

A Time When I Was Deeply Embarrassed

“You can’t be afraid to deal with your demons. You’ve got to go there to be able to write.” - Lucinda Williams

When I was a high school student I walked to school every day. I walked with a good friend of mine after meeting him in front of his house. During our walk we talked about the kinds of things all kids talk about, homework, movies, girls. I was a bit of a nerd so we talked about science fiction more than we talked about girls. One day I told him the idea for a short story that I had.

I gave him the details as we walked through the neighborhood. I can still remember how excited I was. He made some comments as I started. As I got further into the story he stopped commenting. A few minutes before arriving at school I got to the the surprise ending. I felt so satisfied and waited for the praise that was sure to come. He responded with something like, “You know, I’ve read that story.”

Shame washed over me. My story wasn’t my story at all. I had just repeated the plot of something I had read. Said it was mine. And I wasn’t expecting to be called out. Talk about not looking ahead. I mean it was obvious wasn’t it? Where the heck did I think I was going with this? Whatever words I said in response are long forgotten. We walked into school and went to our classes.

I still think about that day sometimes. It bothers me. It’s not  just the obvious shame and embarrassment of being caught lying. It’s something more. I was caught stealing. I felt like a thief. It wasn’t a good feeling. I never want to feel anything like that again.

I wanted the results without making any effort. I wanted to be able to say that I had written a story. I wanted all the glory without putting in any work.

The work. Taking an idea and turning it into a first draft. Making new discoveries and connections by editing a first draft. Finishing it. The sense of satisfaction after finishing. Moving on to the next idea without hesitation. Now that is a great feeling. I’d like to think that I learned something. Because what I know now is that the reward comes from doing the work. I can’t wait to get started on the next idea.

Next: The Bird Skull and Gaining Confidence