Fiction: A Normal Evening

The couple walked out through the double-wide sliding door as a woman pushed an older man in a wheelchair into the building. The door closed, leaving the couple alone outside.

“Now what?” the man quietly asked his wife.

She considered a moment. “Let’s go to Tim’s Pizza.” It was a normal thing for them to do.

They ordered a hand-tossed Canadian bacon and mushroom pizza and root beers. The girl behind the counter smiled at them because she’d been working there just long enough to realize it was their usual order.

They talked of this and that as they ate, just like always. When they left the restaurant, he opened the car door for her, which he usually did. They stopped at Barnaby’s for a bottle of her favorite merlot. “Always keep that in stock for you,” Mr. Barnaby said with a smile. They smiled back and walked out to the car and drove home.

She turned the TV on as he opened the wine and poured it into a couple of glasses. He handed her one glass and sat on the couch next to her. His wine was at his left and his hand lay between them, next to hers but not touching, as usual. They watched a nature documentary and the news through the weather. Then she turned off the TV and they got ready for bed, as they always did at this hour.

They got in bed, shared a perfunctory kiss and said “ ‘Night.” She turned off the light and they lay together in the dark as they had since getting married. The end of a perfectly normal evening.

Until she said, “I’ve set the alarm for 5.”

And unlike any night in their lives together, tears spilled down his cheeks and he took a slow, deep breath to keep from sobbing. That had been their tacit agreement. “OK,” he said quickly.

They had to be back through the double-wide sliding doors at the hospital by 6. Her surgery was scheduled for 7.

Pen to Paper: Mark Twain’s Writing Advice

Mark Twain is back in the news, not that he ever really left it. His unexpurgated autobiography is being published shortly, and I expect more than a few graveyards will hum with all the spinning some of the residents will be doing. (N.B.: I wrote the phrase “unexpurgated autobiography” before hunting up the NYT article that also uses it. Great minds, and all that.)

Twain had something to say about most everything, and he certainly did not spare his own field. He left us a great many thoughts on what makes a good story. Here is one collection of those thoughts. Finally, we have his masterful blast against novelist James Fenimore Cooper. Early on, Twain gives us twelve solid notions of what a writer should and should not do, and he makes note of how Cooper violated these points of literary order.

Enjoy, and make good use of what the old master taught us.

Fun with Spellcheck

I am editing a book for a friend; he recently found a few hundred letters to the editor that he wants me to turn into a book detailing his political philosophy. While working on that yesterday, I was trying to get the worst of the spelling errors out of the way. Some are his, and some are because we scanned his typed hard copy and ran it through an OCR program, which is always an iffy proposition.

The spellcheck comes to Khada-fy, and I get several options (none of which is to close up the two parts of the name) that read thusly:

Khayyam
Khalif
Khalid
Khazar
Khartoum
Dickhead

Some might argue, and persuasively, that this list provided all the alternatives I needed under the circumstances. I think, however, it better serves as a reminder that word processing programs have terribly limited, if occasionally intriguing, spelling capabilities. Proceed with caution.

Fiction: We All Scream

The digital clock slipped from 5:16 to 5:17, and I sighed. I sighed every day at that time, because in one minute – the clocks in the neighborhood were all synchronized – Mrs. Caperson would begin four minutes of scream therapy.

Four.

Minutes.

She had good lungs and a Teflon-coated throat. I couldn’t have done it, that’s for sure.

She had gone around to all the neighbors within earshot to say her therapist, Dr. Weingarten, recommended this practice for her nerves. We all wondered if the good doctor would recommend we scream back for our nerves, but I don’t know that anyone ever asked him. I didn’t anyway, that’s for sure.

Four minutes of synchronized screaming every day except holidays. Or maybe there was enough in-house noise on holidays we just couldn’t hear her. But that doesn’t seem very likely, considering Mrs. Caperson’s ability to attract attention.

And on account of her being a Caperson and all, none of the cops or the city fathers saw fit to tell her to put a sock in it. That’s where money gets you, especially if you’re thoughtful enough to live modestly in a middle-class neighborhood.

“One of these days,” I told Bud Forbish, the guy on the other side of us, “one of these days someone is going to kill that woman at precisely 5:17 p.m., and we won’t be any the wiser.”

Continue reading “Fiction: We All Scream”

Pen to Paper: A Mini-Seminar on Writing Short Stories

Dennis G. Jerz teaches new media journalism as an associate professor of English at Seton Hill University. So he says on his About page.

This essay, which he wrote with Kathy Kennedy, is easily one of the most compact and most complete guides a writer could need to make sure he’s thinking about the elements that make for a good story. And I have to give credit where it’s due: I used the examples in tip number 2 as the starting point for this week’s short story. Check it out Thursday.

Last week, I wrote about recapturing the creative joy that brought us to writing in the first place. I stand by that because this is supposed to be fun. Kennedy and Jerz give us a basketful of goodies to help ensure that our fun is catching for the reader, too.

Enough of me. On to Short Stories: 10 Tips for Creative Writers.