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Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
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Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
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Yes, me again; and just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water. LOL This is the last one, I promise (she said with fingers crossed). In the next frame, you'll find the first
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Cat:a8a2f11e-9648-4e84-80dd-46ee37ced053Forum:e8bbac91-f95f-4acf-abc1-0df3f3e6c5eeDiscussion:8467f849-1de1-4366-865b-1ec5c036bb65
Forums » Entertainment » Books » Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
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Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at February 17, 2012 9:19 PM EST
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Posts: 70
First: February 6, 2012 Last: March 29, 2012 |
Yes, me again; and just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water. LOL This is the last one, I promise (she said with fingers crossed). In the next frame, you'll find the first paragraph of our new, original story. It ends with an open sentence, and that's where you come in. To continue (build) our story, you must write the next, open-ended, paragraph. At some point, somebody will/can add the final paragraph and close it with "the end." It's hard to say when or where that point will come, but your writer's instinct will let you know. See you in the next window, enjoy! D P.S. You may find this addictive, too! |
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Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at February 17, 2012 9:40 PM EST
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Posts: 70
First: February 6, 2012 Last: March 29, 2012 |
"I don't care what they say to or about me; this is my life; not theirs! If my "strange behavior makes me happy, and hurts no one, why can't I live and do as I darn well please? 'You need a little counseling, 'wouldn't hurt to talk to someone and get an unbiased opinion', they say. But, what they really mean is 'you don't have to believe us, ask a stranger to tell you you're nuts!' But, I'm NOT! Different, maybe; but definitely not nuts or crazy, and I don't need no shrink to tell me what's wrong with me for |
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Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at February 23, 2012 2:40 PM EST
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Posts: 70
First: February 6, 2012 Last: March 29, 2012 |
In Response to Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you): "I don't care what they say to or about me; this is my life; not theirs! If my "strange behavior makes me happy, and hurts no one, why can't I live and do as I darn well please? 'You need a little counseling, 'wouldn't hurt to talk to someone and get an unbiased opinion', they say. But, what they really mean is 'you don't have to believe us, ask a stranger to tell you you're nuts!' But, I'm NOT! Different, maybe; but definitely not nuts or crazy, and I don't need no shrink to tell me what's wrong with me for collecting old articles and pictures of people I don't know! Posted by ladyddarcel I have plans for every photo and scrap of paper I save. Just because others can't see beyond the clutter and fading print doesn't mean I can't! Piecing and putting them together in one place makes me feel "whole". One man's childish poster is another man's collage of forgotten memories, at least, that's MY thought and feeling on the situation. Besides, |
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Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at February 24, 2012 8:52 PM EST
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Posts: 618
First: December 16, 2009 Last: June 19, 2013 |
its my life and I will do with it as I like. In the past my mother always screamed at me about keeping the house neat and clean, but not now. Being in a vegetative state she is not capable of telling me her name—certainly not how to live my life. I stack all my pictures of her in a corner of her old room. I keep the mental images of her locked tightly away in my mind never bringing them out except |
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Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at February 28, 2012 12:04 PM EST
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Posts: 618
First: December 16, 2009 Last: June 19, 2013 |
when I have a new one to add. My sister Agnes keeps yapping at me, 'Go visit Ma,' 'It wouldn't hurt you'. A lot she knows about that! She wasn't the one that Ma had taken to the 'nut house' as a child. But I showed them all. Didn't answer any of their stupid personal questions. It was an invasion of privacy pure and simple. They tried to get into my head but I was having none of that business. Finally Ma came to her senses and stopped that nonsense. Figured out she might one day need me to take care of her, I suppose. I took care of her all right, but that's not something I want to think about. Keep that image filed away with those of Father, the DOCTOR. I won't go there any time soon. However |
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Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at February 28, 2012 5:04 PM EST
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Posts: 70
First: February 6, 2012 Last: March 29, 2012 |
In Response to Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you): when I have a new one to add. My sister Agnes keeps yapping at me, 'Go visit Ma,' 'It wouldn't hurt you'. A lot she knows about that! She wasn't the one that Ma had taken to the 'nut house' as a child. But I showed them all. Didn't answer any of their stupid personal questions. It was an invasion of privacy pure and simple. They tried to get into my head but I was having none of that business. Finally Ma came to her senses and stopped that nonsense. Figured out she might one day need me to take care of her, I suppose. I took care of her all right, but that's not something I want to think about. Keep that image filed away with those of Father, the DOCTOR. I won't go there any time soon. However, it won't be something I'll soon forget, either! Posted by Sparkel18 "Tap, tap, tap"; there she goes with Agnes' old tap shoes again.I can't, for the life of me, understand why they're one of the FEW things that still gets her stirring. It seems she hasn't forgotten how the sound of "tap-on-tap" sets my blood to boiling. Yeah, Ma remembers those stupid tap shoes Agnes wanted so badly, but wore only twice. (God, how LONG ago that's been.). Didn't matter, though; never did, long as Miss A was satisfied, all was good with the world. (Let me be damned!) "Who's here with you now, Ma", I yelled to no one; "who?" Tap, tap, tap! Distracted from my beloved collage memories by her incessant tapping, my mind wanders off and flashes back to when |
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Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at February 29, 2012 2:57 PM EST
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Posts: 618
First: December 16, 2009 Last: June 19, 2013 |
"Tap, tap, tap"; there she goes with Agnes' old tap shoes again.I can't, for the life of me, understand why they're one of the FEW things that still gets her stirring. It seems she hasn't forgotten how the sound of "tap-on-tap" sets my blood to boiling. Yeah, Ma remembers those stupid tap shoes Agnes wanted so badly, but wore only twice. (God, how LONG ago that's been.). Didn't matter, though; never did, long as Miss A was satisfied, all was good with the world. (Let me be damned!) "Who's here with you now, Ma", I yelled to no one; "who?" Tap, tap, tap! Distracted from my beloved collage memories by her incessant tapping, my mind wanders off and flashes back to when mother first fell ill. I was sure she was faking it just to ruin my life. That slurred speech and crazy talk.."Did you expect me to believe that was real Ma?" She expected me to wait on her hand and foot I do know that. And that darn Bell. She wouldn't stop ringing it. My mind would be carefully crafting images from the pieces of posters and snippets of can labels when .."Ding, Ding,Ding" would come floating down the stairs breaking my concentration. I tossed the bell out the window and now she's started with Agnes' tap shoes. I fed her yesterday...what more can |
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Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at March 6, 2012 10:28 PM EST
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Posts: 70
First: February 6, 2012 Last: March 29, 2012 |
In Response to Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you): "Tap, tap, tap"; there she goes with Agnes' old tap shoes again.I can't, for the life of me, understand why they're one of the FEW things that still gets her stirring. It seems she hasn't forgotten how the sound of "tap-on-tap" sets my blood to boiling. Yeah, Ma remembers those stupid tap shoes Agnes wanted so badly, but wore only twice. (God, how LONG ago that's been.). Didn't matter, though; never did, long as Miss A was satisfied, all was good with the world. (Let me be damned!) "Who's here with you now, Ma", I yelled to no one; "who?" Tap, tap, tap! Distracted from my beloved collage memories by her incessant tapping, my mind wanders off and flashes back to when mother first fell ill. I was sure she was faking it just to ruin my life. That slurred speech and crazy talk.."Did you expect me to believe that was real Ma?" She expected me to wait on her hand and foot I do know that. And that darn Bell. She wouldn't stop ringing it. My mind would be carefully crafting images from the pieces of posters and snippets of can labels when .."Ding, Ding,Ding" would come floating down the stairs breaking my concentration. I tossed the bell out the window and now she's started with Agnes' ballet shoes. I fed her yesterday...what more can Posted by Sparkel18 I do to appease her??? Nothing, that's what; nothing! And, why should it be any different that always. After the stroke, I put my all and all into caring for, giving to and fulfilling her every need. Always there for her, front and center, flying solo; the time had come. Finally, even in her weakened state, I was sure she'd recognize my "love without limits". I was certain, beyond doubt, I'd see it in her eyes, the light of love and appreciation for me. How could I be wrong, NO WAY could I be wrong! But, when I looked into Ma's eyes, I saw |
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Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at March 7, 2012 5:47 PM EST
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Posts: 618
First: December 16, 2009 Last: June 19, 2013 |
But, when I looked into Ma's eyes, I saw only disappointment that I wasn't Agnes. Agnes! How I despise my sister. The golden "child" who made my childhood a living hell. Sweet little demon. I HATE HER. Where is she now? I ask you, why is she not here taking care of Ma? So busy with that fancy rich husband of hers that she can't be bothered with her family. Snip, snip, pieces of her photograph fall on the floor at my feet. I grab the glue pot and the label from a fire ant poison box. I shuffle through all my old animal posters and select one of a possum. Cutting them into stripes I layer them together with the photo slivers of my sister, dribbling red oil paint over the recomposed image. The hooded eyes of Agnes stare at me from the face of the possum, the skinny pink possum tail making one long eyebrow across those hateful eyes. The word "Danger" in bright yellow next to her lying pouty mouth. There! My sister has been put in her true place. At last I can be |
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Re: Story Builder (for the novelist in you)
posted at March 13, 2012 10:36 PM EDT
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Posts: 618
First: December 16, 2009 Last: June 19, 2013 |
At last I can be at peace with myself. My exhibition opens next week and this montage of my sister will be my final entry. If only father hadn’t destroyed the one I did of him. It was the very best of the lot. When he ripped it into pieces in a fit of rage and ran out of the house my hatred of him knew no bounds. I’m glad he’s gone. Mother should not have been on his side. Neither of them understood the power of my art. Neither of them truly loved me. Thank god other people appreciate me and my art for I seem to be dreaming all the time now. I fear I will soon be out of control again. Sitting here with scissors in my hand and stripes of paper all around me, I find my hand reaching for the images I cut from the old posters and magazines. There are so many eyes staring back at me. Somehow I must get all these images together again. Maybe then my life will be different. Everything around me in this house is a part of me. Precious images, my dreams, my aspirations....I must put then together, I must be whole again. The End.  |
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