Posted in Story of My Life

Waiting

Little white flakes were drifting lazily through the air, swirling in the yellow light cast downward by the lamp posts.  My breath was like a cloud billowing out from my mouth as I crunched my way through the snow laden yard at the front of the school toward the parking lot.  I glanced around, looking for the black suburban my mom drove, but it was no where to be found.  She must have been running late.

I lifted my headphones from where they nestled around my neck, and placed them over my ears.  Turning my CD player on I skipped ahead to track 6.  As the song slowly faded in I settled in to wait.  There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, since it was night school, and most of them had left before the song was over.

I made sure to avoid eye contact with everyone, staring at the ground while I shuffled more or less in place, or staring up at the lights in feigned fascination.  One of the cars honked as it drove past, but as I lifted my hand to wave, I saw a group of guys headed towards it pushing, and shoving each other as they called out for the driver to hold up.  I could feel my face getting hot with embarrassment so I quickly turned away, shoving my hand back into my pocket.

“What do I do to ignore them behind me?” the next track started, as if to emphasize my mistake.  I quickly skipped ahead, trying to remember which number held my favorite song, the one with the little piece of paper.  I could never remember the name of it, but I was sure it was number thirteen.  To my dismay, the CD only had twelve tracks, however, and as I cycled through them, listening a little, then moving onto the next, the parking lot emptied the rest of the way.

My fingers were getting cold, so I slid my CD player back in my cargo pocket and just let it play.  The wind bit at me through my hoodie, and I wished I had something warmer to wear.  Where was my mom?  I tried my best to appear nonchalant, leaning against the building.  I’m not sure I pulled it off though since between my humming nerves and the cold my whole body was practically vibrating.  None of the classrooms were lit up in my side of the building, and there was no one else around.  I watched car after car drive by, scanning the traffic for my mom, but still she didn’t come.

“She must have hit traffic,” I thought to myself.  “Maybe there was an accident on the way here and she needed to take a different route.”  It seemed unlikely that she had forgotten to come and get me, since I had been going to night school for over a month, and she had picked me up every time.  It wasn’t un like her to be late though, so I guessed she was just running on Mormon Standard Time.

“From the top to the bottom,” my CD player bellowed at me, snapping me out of my reverie.  I almost pulled it back out to skip to the next track, but my fingers still felt like icicles, so I let it play.  Surprisingly, when it got to the second verse I realized that it was the song I had been looking for all along.  I fished the CD player out of my pants and put it on repeat. 

Deciding it would be easier to keep warm if I walked around I stood up and headed toward the street.  Before I made it there, however, a car turned into the parking lot, flipped a U-ie, and pulled up along side me.  The driver reached across the passenger seat and cranked the handle to roll down the window.  “Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked, squinting at me through the falling snow.

“No thanks,” I replied, giving him a half smile.  “My mom should be here any minute.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.  “Do you want to borrow my cell phone to call her?”

I’m suspicious by nature, and my parents had drilled it in to my head that stranger = danger, so I declined the offer, insisting that my mom was probably right around the corner.  He offered to stay, and wait with me, which creeped me out, but when I insisted I was fine, he left readily enough.  I immediately regretted my decision not to take him up on his offer to call my mom as I watched his tail lights disappear down the road, because it was starting to feel like she really had forgotten about me, but I assured myself that she was probably on her way that very instant, so calling the house would have been pointless.

I stood by the street and peered into the darkness.  There were no headlights coming toward me in either direction.  The road was completely deserted except for me.  I let the song play through from start to finish waiting for a car to drive by, but none did.

I felt far too vulnerable in the dark, so I walked over to the street lamp.  I pulled my sleeve down to cover my hand so it wouldn’t get cold, and gripping the post, I swung myself round and round until I was too dizzy to stand upright.  Feeling silly, I glanced around to see if anyone had come while I was distracted, but the street, the school, and the parking lot were all just as abandoned as they had been before. 

Relieved I walked over to where the triangular gate swung against it’s chain and slid my feet through to sit on it.  The bar was really cold though, and wet from the falling snow, so it soon got too much for me and I disentangled myself from it walking around in circles back and forth between the street and the school. 

I was starting to feel hurt and angry.  I thought briefly about walking home, but I didn’t have a clear picture of how to get there, and the thought of walking the miles of road between the school and my home made me tear up.  Even if I managed to find my way in the dark, could I make it home before morning?  Would I get lost along the way, and wind up freezing to death in a gutter somewhere?  

I mouthed the words to the song that was repeating for what felt like the hundredth time.  I didn’t dare sing, in case someone might be lurking in the shadows, but I did allow myself to whisper the lyrics, occasionally broken up by the catch in my throat as I tried to avoid crying openly.  Was I going to have to retrace my footsteps all night, until finally a teacher came to open up the school, and maybe let me use the phone?  Had my mom really forgotten me so completely that she had over looked the fact that I wasn’t in my bed when she had come in to turn the lights out?

I have no idea how long this went on, but I do know that when my mom finally did arrive, my mouth was dry and my throat was sore.  Dinner had been late, she told me apologetically, and when she had asked my brother to call me to the table, and he couldn’t find me, she had realized her mistake.  I want to say I laughed and teased her for forgetting her oldest daughter, but her apologies, however sincere they were, did little to soften the blow.  She really had forgotten me, and that fact stuck with me for a long, long time.


Dedicated to Chester Bennington, may he rest in peace.

Posted in Write like You Mean It

A Line in the Sand

We all have certain beliefs, lines we won’t cross and vows we make with ourselves, and our communities.  I have quite a few myself, particularly because I tend to be a bit melodramatic.  One that I repeat over and over, because I constantly break it is that I will never date another man.

A little over twelve years ago, I broke that vow for the last time when I agreed to go out with the man who eventually became my husband.  Three years later a new vow was made, and that is one vow I will never break.  It was a quiet ceremony with just a few family members in the canyon, and it was rather slap-dash.  We tied the knot for the wrong reasons, but I don’t regret my decision one bit.  I am proud to call the man I love husband, even if we didn’t get the wedding either of us wanted.

So, why am I talking about all this today?  Well I read an article on author Kristen Lamb’s Blog (click here to read) about using personal vows to increase the tension in your story, and it got me thinking.  What are some of the vows that I’ve made over the years?  What kind of vows should my characters make, or break, as my stories progress?  Do they already have unspoken vows that serve to drive the story, and if so, how will knowing what these vows are affect me as I proceed?

Well, I’ve already told you about a few of my vows, so I won’t delve deeper into that today.  Instead let me tell you about my main characters from my two books.  They both have vows that they keep, and vows that they break, and I’ve written them this way without realizing it.  I always strive above all to make my characters as believable as possible.  Even when writing stories about space travel, or quests that take place in a fantasy realm, I want you to believe that they are real, at least in the context of the book, and one of the ways that I do that is I put myself into them where ever possible.  From the most evil villain to the bravest hero, they are all part of me.  So naturally, they all make vows, but I had never recognized it until I read that article today.

To start, let’s talk about Olivia Blake, the main character of my story Killer Therapy (working title).  She definitely has homicidal thoughts, but she has vowed to herself that she will never let them cross from fantasy to reality.  This is largely influenced by her desire to never go to prison, but once she does cross that line, once she gives in to her darker nature, a deeper more meaningful truth comes to light.  She may have a murderous heart, but she has no desire to hurt the innocent, and that is one line she will never cross.  

Olivia has a brother who is a detective with the UPD, the police force responsible for keeping the peace in Salt Lake City, Utah.  As such he has taken a vow to uphold the law, but he is a very family oriented man, and because of his family’s troubled past, he has vowed to care for and protect both of his sisters from all danger, real or perceived.  This could, and probably will, cause him a great deal of inner turmoil as he unravels the mystery of the serial killer plaguing his city, and comes to realize that his sister is the culprit he’s been searching for.  Will he break the vow he made to himself, and turn her in, knowing that she would face the death penalty?  Will he instead choose family, over his beliefs, and what will that do to him?  Even I don’t know the answers yet.

In my story Road Trip (working title) the main character, Michael, comes home from his latest stay in a juvenile correctional facility to discover that he has a brother, who was left by their mother to grow up in the care of his abusive father.  Michael’s brother tells him that when their mother left, she said that Michael had to go away, because he made a mistake, but when he came back he would take care of him.  Broken by this revelation, and by the fact that his father is kicking him out of the house after only one night, he is tempted to follow his mother’s example and leave the kid, but remembering his own childhood, and witnessing the abuse his four year old brother is suffering, he vows to give his brother a better life than he had.  Now, is that a vow that he can keep?  It seems unlikely, as he is only eighteen, unemployed, and homless.  He is certainly sincere in his desire to protect and care for his brother, but over the course of the story it leads him to make poor decisions that ultimately put both of them in harms way.

As I continue to write these stories, I will keep the vows of my characters in mind, and hopefully through understanding my characters better I will be able to portray their inner struggles ever more accurately, adding even more depth and intensity to the stories than I have until now.  Of course it means I’m going to have to go back and do some rewrites, but that’s all a part of the process, and I truly want to be able to say that I wrote the best book I can write, so I’m happy to do it.

Have you ever made a promise to yourself that you couldn’t keep?  How about one that you later learned was bad for you, or conflicted with a different vow you made to yourself or someone else?  I’d love to hear about it in the comments.  Thanks again for reading, and I hope everyone has a great week!

Posted in Writing Prompts

What color do you feel like right now?

Today I couldn’t decide what to write so I picked up my book of writing prompts, and thumbed through till I found one that inspired me to write.

Right now I’m feeling purple.  I thought for a moment I might feel green, but no, it’s definitely purple.  Why?  I don’t know.  Purple is a color associated with wealth, and power, you might even say it represents ambition, but I’m not feeling particularly strong, well off, or motivated today.  As a secondary color, it combines red and blue.  Emotional symbolism represents blue as sadness and red as anger, but I really don’t feel sad and angry either.  Regardless of how little sense it makes, I am definitely purple today.

Purple is not one of my favorite colors.  Mix in too much red and it gets pink, mix yellow with it and it turns a desgusting shade of brown.  No, I am not a fan of purple.  I would rather be orange, my favorite color.  Orange is energetic and fun.  Orange is the color of sunset, and fire, and falling leaves.  Orange means cool weather, and my favorite holiday, Halloween.  Orange is the color of the light while sitting bundled up by the fireplace reading a good book, or cuddling with a loved one.

Still, purple is how I feel, and it’s not going away any time soon.  I can feel it settling in for the long haul.  I am going to have a purple day, and there’s nothing to do but try and enjoy it, what ever it leads to.

Do you feel colorful today?  What is your favorite color, and why?  Comments are always welcome, so feel free to share, and as always, thank you for reading.  Have a wonderful day!