November 16th
Ian
suggested a variation on the hot pen which will run over 2 or 3 sessions, and
at the end of the day you have a short story, although each exercise is a stand
alone. It could be a poem. We could also have hot pens separately. A new member, Tom, introduced himself. When he was working he had ideas about what
to write if only he had the time, but once he retired he lost the
motivation. We have all been there! He
has been writing something for about 2 years.
Ian was the
first one to read out on the subject - a description of a scene or a
person. It is an extract from a longer
piece. He painted a verbal picture of a scene in rural Ireland with peat bogs,
mountains, a white washed cottage and the odd cow searching for new shoots of
grass. Very descriptive.
Jenny’s had
two short poems about almond blossom and a vegetable patch. They were so short, by the time I had got my
pencil out she had finished!
Anne had
written a travelogue about a small village near Rochdale. When the population had dropped to less than
200 it was decided to flood the village and it is now a recreation site. The original mullion window stones with the
owners’ names on were arranged round the reservoir, and the gate posts to the
now drowned hill farms stood like old tombstones. Very evocative. Tom, our new member, used to live just near
there, what a small world!
Betty’s story
was about a gentleman on a trip to Altea. His plan was to sketch the church or
plaza. He left the tourists and the café bars to explore the back streets and
found himself looking down an alleyway, and he saw an elderly lady asleep in a
doorway. He observed that she had deep
furrows on her face, her nose looked big, and she had a small frame, cloaked in
a shawl. He felt like a voyeur. As he
passed she moved a box that had been hidden under her cloak towards him and
said gracias senor. It was a beautiful vignette of Spanish life.
Avril read
her poem about a forest glade and a knarled tree with no leaves in sight, which
was like a spire in the sky. It was the oak tree in the forest of Sherwood that
had saved Robin Hood from his adversaries many a time.
Geoff told
us that he had bought a dictionary of adjectives. He tried to write a descriptive piece using
words from it, but ended up having to go to the doctor with symptoms of
satura-adjectivia. That sounds
painful. He ended up writing a poem, and
things went from bad to verse. I laughed so much I can’t remember what the poem
was about. I know it ended with someone
vomiting. Can you put it on the blog
please Geoff?
Margaret
had written a description of a character.
Simon was tall of about 30 years with a military air. He sat on the couch showing the contrast
between the downy hair on his arms and the stubble on his face. Very descriptive. I could picture him and
liked what I saw.
Douglas’s
story was called ‘It depends on your point of view.’ He described a game of football
in the European football league in Kenya between a team of former Italian
prisoners called Juventus and Caledonians, who were mainly Scottish expatriates. Juventus won 2-1 and won the cup and that was
that. A report in the paper said the
Caledonians were unlucky to have had a perfectly good goal disallowed which was
written by the referee who disallowed the goal!
Entertaining as ever.
Heinke’s
contribution was of two different characters set against each other. They were both invited to a party where they
will probably have a ‘dead bird dinner’ and they discuss what to buy as a gift.
After much discussion they decide to buy roses but when they go to get them the
roses are all gone. By the use of conversation alone, Heinke described two
completely different characters, David who was a calm personality, and Irene
who was a ranter.
Tom’s tale
was called the skylark. It was set in
Normandy, Paris had been liberated. The German soldiers were very afraid that
they would never go home to their families. ‘We will look after you, you are
safe here’ said the RSM. He had spoken to the CO of the German prisoners, who
had been educated at Oxford. They are no longer the enemy. The RSM said to the
soldiers, ‘We will soon be back in Blighty. All aboard the skylark.’ It made me
want to hear more. It was pointed out
that the writer wouldn’t know the point of view of the Germans unless they had
told him. You have to come out of the story for an omniscient point of
view.
Darren told
us a tale about cars and his wife’s thoughts about cars being a phallic symbol
of someone lacking in the trouser department.
25 years earlier, he had an Aston Martin. The car he has now is like
Postman Pat’s van with 3 rows of seats.
His wife, himself and their 8 year old son all sit in the front and see
the same things. Would he swap it for a
Ferrari? Yes. Sorry to tell you this
Darren but once you have a family your days of owning a Ferrari are over!
Anne‘s
sorry tale was about her and her husband’s encounter with the Guardia Civil,
something we all dread. Her husband’s
MGM tourer was going to be resprayed, the lights had been removed to enable
this to happen and she drove her car to the garage and he followed. As they approached the slip road they were
flagged down, the problem being a lack of lights, even at midday, for which misdemeanor
they were fined 100 Euros. Aren’t our police wonderful, not.
Anne
continued her letters to my mother stories.
It is 1805. ‘Dear mother, my
military campaign has taken me across Europe. I wonder what history will
say. Josephine has just entered the
room. I will need a long term plan. Russia is making threatening noises. Josephine is showing me her stockings. I told
her not tonight Josephine and that is my final word. Josephine has locked the door. She is
massaging my head and shoulders. Got to
go, I have an urgent uprising to deal with. Your loving son, Napoleon. ‘ Highly
amusing as always. It was thought these
stories would be good for radio or for an anthology.
Brenda continued
her story about life in the East End.
This part of the story told of Lottie who was the seamstress. She took Ivy under her wing. She was sent to
the workhouse by her mother at 8 years old when her father died. One day one of
her brothers appeared at the home. ‘Where is mother? She died last year of
consumption. Have you come to take me
home? There is nobody left but me and I am moving away.’ It transpired that 2
years ago her brothers aged 18 and 17 were forcibly taken to work in the coal
mines in Wales and died at the mine. Heartbroken, the mother went to sleep and
never woke up. When the twins turned 16 they joined the army, were shipped off
to Ethiopia and went missing in action. Walter the older brother got a job at
the dock, became ill with yellow fever and was buried in the docks. ‘When you
find somewhere can I come and live with you?’ He promised her he would come
back. An excellent description of a heartrending situation. It is part of a longer piece about the East
End of London. Brenda was advised that you
can change your point of view from Ivy to Lottie as long as it is clear you are
going to be telling two stories. It has to be distinctive if you change people
and also change the time span. We all
wanted to hear the end of the compelling story.
NEXT WEEK’S
THEME – ‘Just wait till I get you home.’
Cynthia
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