For Christmas, my cousin Susan got me "The Writer's Toolbox" off my amazon wish list. Not really being a writer I thought it would be a fun way to help me think differently about writing.
It's very cool. It basically has different exercises to get your brain going. The one I did tonight involved little sticks with sentences on them. You pick out one stick from a specific collection of sticks and start your story with that. After writing for a bit, you look at another randomly chosen stick from another collection. Then, you pick a third when you are ready to finish the story.
It was really fun but bizarre too. For example, I found my story was being narrated by a man as I got going. A man I didn't particularly care for, actually.
Here's what I ended up with. The sentences that were provided for me have been bolded.
I had this system for getting exactly what I wanted out of people. I have never been able to figure out where it started or how I learned it. All I know is that it is now second nature to me. I don't feel guilty about it necessarily, but I don't understand it either. I just use it.
I work harder to get things that I really want but for the most part, if I want it, the process of getting it is almost more fun than actually getting the thing itself; like that saying about traveling - the best part is getting to the destination...or something like that. For me, the traveler, getting someone else to give it to me is part of the fun. I'm so good at it at this point it's often not even work anymore.
Sometimes I aim for the challenge just to see if I can get it. Like that wife, for example. I actually wasn't really so into her, but she was so into him, I had to take on the challenge. See if I could get her. It would be an interesting trip, I thought.
He was skating on this ice - that's all I can say. I saw that. Heard it, too. Could hear the ice cracking beneath him, could smell the cold air around them, stinging and sharp, like her when she was around him. I could hear them through the wall, she was so pissed. Something about a missing urn. I knew it was the best time to give it a whirl. Step on in and see.
I couldn't handle it, really. I mean, I could handle it, but not her. She behaved like a single woman, a spinster. Set in her ways and independent despite not being single. She was bossy and difficult, but she was curious about the world around her and had a wit faster than a jackrabbit. She had a smart-ass comment for everything. There were aspects about her that I dug. Could I hide my distaste for her less admirable qualities and make her feel wanted? Make her want me? No problem.
And it wasn't a problem until after the dinner party when I realized my extra curricular activity was being noticed. A group of us from the neighborhood got together with the yuppies a few doors down. The one's with the airedale and the front door shipped from India then painted "eggshell". Little did I know, the hosts had also invited her and her thin ice skater. Digging into the brie and standing at their contemporary bar while faux admiring their choice in wine, it wasn't hard to ignore that anything that was going on between us, pretend I didn't really know her. After all, I don't really know her. Or like her, really.
Two days later I met with a few friends for lunch, one of whom was there at the dinner party. She wondered what was up with the woman. You know, the one with the wit and the quiet husband, she said. She was onto me, for sure. Turning to her girlfriend, she reported, "She was standing behind the counter, giving him this root beer float kind of smile."
It was then that I knew we were done. I was out. Fortunately, I know how to get what I want, but I know how to un-get it too. Usually.
After the thing she did to the brakes on the Honda, my Honda, I moved to a new neighborhood, took a different route on my morning jog. I like brie as much as the next guy, but I have no interest in coming home to boiled bunnies.
Like I said though, I can usually get people to give me what I want. I got her. I also got thousands of dollars of damage to my brakes system, but at least I still have a perfect record.
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