Not-so 10 minute Thursday: River

I made list of worst case scenarios for a teenage girl who is slowing going blind.  I totally intended on writing about going to school with all your clothes turned inside out, but that didn’t happen. Nope.  Instead I got stuck on writing a scenario that would be embarrassing for everyone- not just my main character.

____

Though I appreciate the glories of a school uniform and the lack of decision making it requires everyday, I couldn’t help but appreciate it more the morning I woke up to a dark room. Even with my glasses on and my bedside lamp shining the light in my room was reduced to an ashen gray.   Once I’d watched a documentary about the eruption of Mount St. Helens that sent tons of dirt and debris rushing down the side of the mountain. My room  was kind of like the aftermath of that: dark, the outline of normalcy still there but unseeable.

I didn’t call out for Daddy.  The last thing I needed was to give him any more reason to treat me like a two year old. Or worse: to treat me as if I was making a big deal out of nothing.  I focused as hard as I could, using my hands and memory to lead my through my room.  My desk and dresser were right where they were supposed to be, easily in reach without running into anything.  I pulled off my pajamas and considered showering.  Could I make it to the bathroom without tripping over myself?  As soon as the word bathroom floated through my mind, my bladder reminded me that I didn’t have a choice of whether or not to head there.  Unless  I wanted to spend the morning cleaning my bedroom floor, I was headed to the bathroom.

Wrapping myself in my red fluffy robe, I opened my bedroom door but stopped before I took a step.  Drawing a map in my head of the hallway that led to the bedroom was important.  Choosing the wrong door would lead me to the linen closet, the den, or worse, Daddy’s bedroom.  Trying to conjure a memory of the last time I’d actually stood and looked at the hallway, I drew a blank.  The most I could come up with was that the bathroom door might be open, while the others were likely to be closed.

“Why are there so many doors, in this place?”  I mumbled as my bladder reminded me to get on with it.  I took my steps carefully, one foot in front of the other, my arms out stretched to run my fingers against the wall. Passing two closed doors, I held my breath and focused on reaching an open one.  The picture of the hallway in my mind became more clear as I concentrated on trying to make out the shapes in front of me.

As things became clearer, my urgency to reach the bathroom increased.  It no longer felt like I had just woken up and was getting ready to use the bathroom.  It felt like I had been holding back a river all day.  I cursed myself and the glass of water I’d had before bed.

“Libby?” Daddy’s voice came from behind me, causing me to jump.  And to lose my grip on holding back the river in me. My bare legs became wet as the warm water pooled at my feet.  I started to move forward faster. With each step it became more difficult to hold it back. I couldn’t think. Reaching the open door, I threw myself into the room and slammed the door behind me.  It was too late.

Image: ‘Autumn leaves at the top of the weir‘

10 Minute Tuesday: school daze

I swear I wrote last week!  I have it on my laptop, I know I do.  I just don’t know here last tuesday went.  I’m taking each day with a flow.  Looking at where I left off the day before, and pushing forward.  This means that I’m not holding onto old ideas of where I thought my story was going to go. Instead I’m listening for and looking for the path as I write.  Its the first draft after all.  I get to try to figure things out a thousand different ways, right?

________

“See, there! Who ever said there wasn’t room for two senior reps was wrong!” Mr. James said, his hands on his hips and a smile on his face.  Amber chuckled and smiled her overly sweet smile.    That person had actually been Amber last spring when the student election resulted in a tie for the position. Instead of having a run off, Mr. James awarded Amber and I co-representative positions. Despite the warning alarms blaring in my head, I tried my best to smile.

“Now, let’s get to business,” Mr James said.  The group- eleven thanks to Amber, or me- settled in.  “First order of business, Disability Representative proposal. Amber, take it away.”  My heart stopped.

“Well,” she folded her hands across her desk and turned to give me a broad smile before continuing to address the rest of the group, “in keeping with Hellen Emory Lambert Logan’s dedication to diversity and education, I thought it would be appropriate for us to have a rep for our classmates who are differently abled.”  She curled her fingers into  air quotes when she said the words “differently abled.” Mr. James nodded, eating it up.

“Tell us more, Amber,” Mr. James said.  I wanted to punch him in the face.

“Well, I was thinking about Libby, actually.” At once, all eyes were turned to me and I felt like a prisoner on trial.  Or a caged bull.  I held one hand in a tight fist and pressed it against my thigh. The pressure kept me from popping out of my seat and wrapping both hands around Amber’s throat.  “Being visually impaired can’t be easy for her, but she keeps going.  How many of us could possibly know what its like to be in her shoes?”

She looked around at the other student in council.  The look on her face resembled that of the woman on late night television asking for donations to send to needy children in far away parts of the world.  I could almost hear Amber say, “For the cost of a cup of coffee, you could change little Libby’s life.”  My stomach turned.

 

Image: ‘Friendship / Amistad‘

monday madness: blind

I got to starbucks this morning and was greeted with my very own spot!  This is amazing because this starbucks is becoming busier and busier everyday.  On Friday I had to go to a completely different coffee shop!  It was really nice, excellent coffee, really expensive flourless chocolate cake, but it wasn’t starbucks.   Goodness, I”m totally drinking the kool-aid, aren’t it.

I wrote for 2 hours this morning, over 2000 words of  story in order to write the debate. The debate is when the character has to decide whether to go forward with their mission or stay where they are.  My main character has to move forward.  She has an attack of temporary blindness while at a boutique with her best friend, and can’t hide it. The only choice she has is to tell her.

I gotta work on character stuff.  Who she is and how she responds to things in accordance to her personality.  hmmmm.

———

“Its really nice,” she said.  I could picture her leaning over her steering wheel, her eyes scanning the tree lined boulevard and the decades old homes that was my street.  It wasn’t the large estates of Michelle’s neighborhood, for sure.  I tried to peek out from beneath the sunglasses Michelle had placed on my face to ease the sun.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it didn’t matter.  I couldn’t even see the red that was the back of my eyelids.  An hour of traffic was an hour of me explaining to Michelle what Dr. Oh had said and what I was sure the real problem had been.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe its  just stress,” Michelle had offered.

“If talking about Joseph counts as stress, then I’m screwed,” I replied.  Aside from Sophie’s cold shoulder, Joseph had been crossed off the List and replaced by Troy essentially making him part of the past and not my future. Plus, I hadn’t heard from him in months.

“Your destination is on the right,” the GPS said.

“Mine’s is the blue house with dragons out front,” I told her, embarrassed at the stone creatures that stood watch over the gate to the house. Michelle was quiet for a few seconds, pull the car over and slowing to a stop.

“Nice,” she breathed.  “It reminds me of where my grandmother lived in Mexico.”

“They have bars over the windows in Mexico?”  I asked.

“No, not everywhere.  she has dragons in her garden.  The same type.”  The beeping told me that Michelle had opened the car door. I unbuckled myself and opened my door, slowly to keep it from scraping on the high sidewalks.  I cringed at the crunch of metal against cement . “Slow down,” she said, taking one of my hands, “Just lean on me when you step out of the car and I”ll help you.”

I continued to step forward, my foot catching on the space between the car and the sidewalk.  She reached out and held my hand tighter, providing me a place to balance as I stepped out of the street and on to the side walk. This time I managed to do it without falling back or breaking my ankle.  “Where did you learn to do that?”  I asked.

“TV.” She responded, closing the passenger door quietly.

“Of course,” I responded, placing my hand on the car to steady myself.  I lifted the shades and was grateful to see that the spinning and bluriness at the boutique was temporary.

 

 

Image: ‘My God! Its full of stars!‘

Ten Minute Tuesday: First day of School

I went on an amazing writer’s retreat this weekend.  It was so great to hang out with my favorite group of writers  and, bonus, I got to chat it up with one of my favorite YA novelist: Jessica Brody!  I’m so thankful for the support of Writing Pad and for the guidance  of Jessica and Heather Havrilesky.  Goodness.  Just thinking about how awesome the weekend was puts me back on my the high I had just leaving there.  Returning to reality on Sunday was super difficult!

While at the retreat Jessica gave me some pointers on my opening scene and I managed to rewrite it! Its so nice to have a better idea of where I’m going and what I want.  It was also nice to get all my questions answered.  This excerpt is not part of the opening scene but it does show how neurotic Libby is. 

_______

Most people hate the early morning.  I love it.  It is the only time the house feels the same.  Feels like it did before my parents divorced and were sleeping soundly in their bedrooms and not in two different houses across town.  

Stop it, Libby.  

I shook the thoughts out of my head, and continued to pass the straightening iron over the thick curls at my roots of my hair to the tips, flipping my wrists to add a curl at the ends so they lay nicely on my shoulders.  

Daddy’s footsteps move past the bathroom and down to the kitchen.  I unplugged the hot iron and wrap it in a hand towel so the hot plates can cool and toss my mascara and lipgloss into my purse.  Really, the best part of the early morning is having the bathroom to myself and getting readdy for school undetected.

The throb behind my eyes went away abuot five minutes into my ten  minutes of stretching and breathing.  After that a set of 50 situps, five pushups- not the girly kind either- and more stretching happen before I lock myself into the bathroom and don’t exit until every hair is in the right place and I’ve applied Dr. Brown’s 3 Step Make-Up System for Brown Skinned Girls just light enough to keep Daddy from noticing, but heavy enough to make my skin look flawless. I would marry Dr. Brown if I could find someway to fit that into my vision board.  Right now it only has space for Troy. 

“You’ve totally go this,” I told the girl in the mirror, her black hair shiny and straight, her brown skin smooth and clear.  Note to self: Three weeks without chocolate have paid off.   I slipped my mascara and lip gloss into my bag and open the bathroom door.  

Image Credit:  me

10 minute Tuesday: Big Tent o’ Miracles

I took the day off from work for a different matter (that ended up being cancelled) so I used today for writing!  I have been at Tsarbucks since like 10:45 am.  It is 2:36pm right now.  I’m finally getting ideas about how to make Libby run the show, not just go along with the show.  Clarity is a godsend!   I’ve got to start taking notes now on what she’s doing and what her friends are doing.  I love progress.

______

The tent flaps were pinned open beneath a sign.  Michelle paused in front of the tent and I stopped as well.

“‘Believers Welcome’” I said reading the sign aloud. In a whisper I asked, “What do you think they do to the non believers?”

“I think non believers are up the street at Red Lobster,” she said, then added, “Its not too late for that lunch. We could go right now.”

I took a deep breath and ignored the concern in her voice. “Then the walk across the parking lot would have been for nothing.”  I steeled my stomach and pulled us forward through the flaps of the tent.

The inside of the tent was warm enough to stop us in our tracks.   Humidity filled every spot that wasn’t occupied by a person.  We moved forward I scanned the faces of the audience as we looked for seats.  Shades of brown faces filled my vision indicating an audience of mostly Black or Latino believers.  A splatter of white faces also sat in the audience.  Most of the faces were lined with wrinkles, and eyes that looked both hopeful and exhuasted.  I stared longer at the few mothers and fathers sat next to children, some visibly disabled, some not. Michelle and I were the only teenagers in the bunch.

Image: ‘Shadows‘

Random Thursday: Guilt

 

Guilt does funny things to the brain.  It is best to tell the truth and breathe just a little bit easier.  That’s a really hard lesson for a teenager to learn!  Libby barely even considers it.   Lying is basic part of her life since she can’t tell anyone the truth about what her dad does for a living.  Going blind seems like just another truth she can learn to hide.

Oh, silly girl.

_________

 

I tried to peek at the passing Los Angeles scenery  and Dr. Oh’s face was staring back at me from the seat of the girl with fringed hair and odd shoes.  Dr. Oh’s knowing eyes remained even when I looked away and looked back.   I am losing my mind.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took off my glasses in order to rub my eyes shut. Opening my eyes, the place where Dr. Oh’s face had been morphed in to a dizzying blur of dark brown hair and light skin.  Holy… I slipped my glasses back on my face and tried to take a deep breath that comes in a short gasps for air like a fish left on the dock.  The smell of marijuana quickly fills my senses.  Daddy.   The dizziness subsides under the feeling of comfort.

“You cool, Libs?”  MJ’s voice planted me directly back in to reality.  My father is not at my side, but instead MJ has his hand on my shoulder and a worried look on his face.  I glance over at where Dr. Oh was sitting moments before.   She was gone, and the fringed hair girl with ugly shoes was back in her place.   She is staring at me and when I glance around I notice that so is everyone else.  Any feelings of illness and shock are immediately replaced by the  need to crumple into a ball and roll under the seats to disappear.  No more, lies, Libby. 

“I’m good, MJ,” I say.  He doesn’t ask twice, but he also doesn’t move from my side until we reach our spot.  Great, I will definitely smell like marijuana, I thought, but I am still grateful for his presence and the odd sensation of comfort his smell provides.

10 minute Tuesday: Grandmother Cummings

Today’s 10 minute tuesday features Grandmother Cummings.  She is Troy’s- Libby’s boyfriend- grandmother.  She drives a Mercedes that runs on vegetable oil. She drinks water that has been filtered through a reverse osmosis process.  She’s Troy’s guardian while his father is away in Iraq.  She works late nights in a diner to take care of the family needs.  Troy has been known to rub her feet to relieve the pressure of varicose veins that she gets from standing all day. I’m pretty sure she smokes pot on the weekends.   She only goes to church on the holidays but sends Troy every Sunday.  I’m pretty sure she does yoga at the YMCA for exercise.

___________

“How’s my future, Gran-daughter in law?”  she asked  turning to me.  I took a long sip of the water, wishing it was caramel and would glue my mouth closed just for a bit.  Troy returned to his duty behind the mower, leaving me to field the tough questions by myself.

“I’m doing well, ma’am,”  I said.

“That’s not what I hear,” she lifted her eye brown and peered at me as if to reprimand me for telling a lie.   I wasn’t lying.

“I’m not dead,” I said with a shrug.  The click-click-click of the mower became faint as Troy moved further away from the driveway.

“While that is good, I meant your sight.   Word on the street has it that you’re having some sort of difficulty seeing?”

Word on the street.  I almost chuckled at the sound of it but it was too frustrating to laugh about.  By street she meant Daddy and my church.  By word, she meant rumors.  I guess there are worst rumors she could have heard.  Like the one about last Spring.

“Its getting worse I guess, but you know, nothing that a little prayer can’t fix,” I said, mimicking Daddy’s enthusiasm.  I forgot who I was speaking to because she gave me another skeptical look that said, ‘really, you believe that?’  You never can tell with some people on which side of the faith debate they fall.

“What about your future?  You’re only young once.  You’ve got to take full advantage of it before you two settle down,” she looked more emphatic then ever, as if her belief in Troy’s and my future wasn’t just stuff of wishful thinking.  I crossed my hands behind my back and squeezed out the excitement and the anxiety of that idea.  “what if all of that doesn’t work?”

My anxiety intensified.  I hadn’t ever thought of the idea of the praying not working out.  I shrugged my shoulders, and she looked both disappointed at my faithful attitude.

“You know what you need, young lady?”

“An attitude adjustment?” I said, repeating what I’d often heard T.V. parents say to their shrugging “i don’t know” attitude teenagers.

“You need a plan,” she stated, nodding her head with emphasis.  “a good plan.”

 

Image: ‘Senior couple on cycle ride‘

10 minute Tuesday: Behavior Analysis

I spent most of my writing time today doing a behavior analysis on my main character, Libby.  In a former life (two years ago), I was a high school special education teacher and  it was a part of my  job to observe student behavior and nail down the Antecedent and the Consequences (whether good or bad) that either allowed the behavior to continue or caused it to stop.  While doing this I would complete an ABC (Antecedent, Behavior, Consequences) chart. Stop me if you’ve heard this all before.

I decided that I needed to do this for Libby in order to clearly see what she is doing and what she will be doing.  Believe me it took a while but it really helped me to organize my thoughts, my theme, and my visual goal.  Now I can keep the inner critic at bay just a little longer.  I really needed to see how the inciting incident (progressively going blind) impacts her decisions as well as how it impacts the people around her.  Her condition inspires change within her as much as it inspires fear within her father.    Being that they are interlocked characters (they only have each other) how she changes does impact him as much as how his protective nature and his unusual job affects her.   Also, it gives me something else to write besides scenes of her making out with whichever boy I think will be her love interest.

Also, I discovered Libby’s favorite band: Boyce Avenue.  If you haven’t checked out their acoustic sets yet then please be prepared to have your mind blown.  At least  I did because you know, I love joyful music.

There is no story excerpt today, just peace of mind and clarity.  Now go listen to Boyce Avenue!

Image: ‘end of the day‘

 

Random Saturday: The doubt phase

 

My husband says that I am going through the doubt phase.  Apparently this is a phase in business development when the entrepreneur starts to wonder what in the heck he or she is doing.  Maybe the numbers are quite as high as they’d like, maybe implementation is yielding the results they’d like to see. Whatever it is, they’re starting to doubt themselves.  That’s me right now.  Or it was me a few minutes ago.  I really like my character and I really like the conflicts I’ve plotted out, I just get stuck on what the hell I’m really writing. and you know, who knows.  I have a vague idea but you know, sometimes even when you outline everything out, you gotta just write by the seat of your pants. I took a fifteen minute break from my computer to vent to my husband then came back to look at what I’ve got.  Boy do I have a lot.  The following is just transition between scenes that I wrote a long time ago and decided would fit lovely in Act two part one.  I’ve realized that I’ve just gotta keep plugging at it and pulling together the pieces where I can.

________

The church is close enough to walk to, which Daddy prefers when he’s stressed.  I prefer it as well, especially when he’s been smoking marijuana.  I can’t stand the woodsy ripe smell of marijuana smoke and would rather deal with the smell of the city then being trapped in the car with it.  Don’t get me wrong,  I can’t stand the smell, not the drugs or the people.  I’m not a dope tea-totaler.  There is no way I could be in my family- the black sheep gets the shiv.  Not that daddy would kill me.  The loneliness and isolation would though.  He’s all I have, I remind myself as we we walk slowly.  We walk in silence, his eyes staring straight a head watching for danger, mine scanning the ground a few steps ahead of me watching for anything that might send me tumbling.  He reached over and put his arm around my shoulder, holding me as close as walking will allow. Even though my feet start to get in each other’s way, I don’t move away from him.   Daddy will catch you, he always does.

Image: ‘This Way to the Holy Ghost Revival‘

Random Thursday: at the Salon

I wrote 2058 words today while at Starbucks.  I am telling you, that Blonde Roast is killer!  I shouldn’t do anything before I have a cup of that stuff!  I also just realized that my picture for the Josh post is of a young woman smiling. That’s because Josh made Libby smiling- not because Josh is a young girl. Though, that would be very interesting as well.  I’m on my first draft so we’ll see how thigns turn out during the editing phase.

I color coded my index cards list night and realized that I’ve been having so much trouble with identifying the A plot line because I didn’t really have one.  Libby hasn’t been doing much so far except responding and reacting to the actions of others.  For the rest of this week and next my writing focus will be on Libby’s actions.

this excerpt is from a scene where Libby is at a salon with her grandmother.  Its at this salon where she will have the idea of finding different ways  to cure her blindness.  That is her A plot- hunting for a cure to her blindness that doesn’t involve science and allows her to have the life she’s always dreamed of.  That’s all she wants: the life she thinks she was promised because of her faithfulness and her dreams.  Oh, Libby, if life was only that simple.

_____

The wail of the blowdryer in my ear as she pulled the circular brush through my wet curls made eavesdropping nearly impossible.   While Adel worked on the right side of my head, out of my left ear I vaguely heard the words blind, six months.   My curiosity switched to from the women speaking foreign languages to Grandmother’s conversation with Adel.  My ears  were definitely burning and not from the heat of the blowdryer.

I strained to hear more of their conversation, clenching my teeth and offering Manuel a closed mouth smile as he ran the nail file along my nails.  His eyes moved hungrily from their conversation to me.   My frustration boiled over whenI heard the word “shame”.

“Gran!”  I turned in my seat to face her next to me.  Adel and the other stylist went still,  their hands stopped and holding their instruments in mid air.  “Why are  you telling everyone about me?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Sweetheart,” she said, and everyone seemed to relax.  “I’m not ‘telling everyone about you’.  I am simply sharing with close friends my concerns for you.”  Adel smiled and the other two did the same.

“You shouldn’t have to go through this alone,”  Adel cooed, placing her manicured hands on my shoulders. I caught her eyes in the mirror and the look on her face was one of genuine sincerity.  “A girl without a mother needs a community.”

I looked away from her quickly.   I held back my inclination to shout, “I don’t need a mother or a community” but then I remembered that I needed someone to pay for this hair treatment and my manicure, so I should keep my mouth shut and let Gran talk about whatever she wanted.

“Is there some sort of treatment for this,” Gran’s young stylist waved her hands around trying to conjur from  midair the word she forgot.

“Treatment?”  The girl nodded happily at the word. “Yes,” I said,

“So, what are you doing to do about it?  When do these treat start?”  She asked.   looking away from her and all of them.  Its hard to avoid people’s eyes when there are mirrors everywhere you look.  I stared a tile on the floor.

“Leisl!” Adel reached out and sharply flicked her on the shoulder with the brush. Liesl rubbed her arm where the brush made contact and went back to hot curling Gran’s hair.

“We’re hoping for a more spiritual approach to treatment,” Gran interjected.

A chorus of “Oh’s” came from the women, even the ones under the dyers who looked as if they weren’t paying attention to the conversation.  Adel snapped a look over her shoulder that sent the women back behind their magazines.

“That’s good,” she said, patting me on the shoulder.  I smiled up at her.  If I fake it, maybe one day I’ll believe it.   She spritzed my hair with liquid from spray bottle then rubbed a serum in my hair that gave it a shine and softness that I could never achieve on my own.

Just as she clicked on the blowdryer, I said, “I wish there was some sort of magic serum you could rub on my eyes to make them go right.”  I added a chuckle to my voice and a smile to face to show that their concern hadn’t gone unappreciated.

“No need for magic, dear.  The Lord’s got this one,” Gran said.  Just as she began to settle into reading her magazine, I looked in the mirror a mysterious glance between Adel and Leisl look.