WRITER’S STORY ABOUT A WRITER

I read one writer’s story last night before turning out the lights.

It was a short story, what’s called a short story, which are usually too long to finish before lights out.

I’ve got an anthology of stories I scan until one hits and sticks.

This one stuck until the end after three mis-starts.

Who doesn’t like a story about an indifferent girl who writes a story in high school, shows it to her friends, and they love it.

“You’re a writer,” they cheered.

She’s the writer friend who goes to college and gets into grad-school before a writing professor crushes her spirit with his special criticism, the kind that students on uncertain ground take as gospel.

“He said I suck, so I suck,” they say.

The highlight of her higher educational experience was hooking up with a fellow droopy writing student and getting pregnant.

The guy said, “If you keep the baby, you’re on your own. I’m married to literature,” or some such shit in the moment.

She kept the baby, dropped out, and the years sped by.

The mom is not a writer, but the writer of the story drops in details that show the mom still pays attention to what’s around her like a writer would.

It’s a nice touch from writer to writer.

Ten years later, the droopy writing student father who checked out is now a famous author with a prestigious teaching job.

 

 

Sometimes it feels like stories about writers have them in prestigious teaching jobs while producing a library shelf full of titles, or scratching out their work in some out-building while their wife and kids wonder what’s wrong with their dad.

Oh, that’s right, he’s a writer.

The story concludes with a plan for the future plotted by mom and daughter, and a nice man in the neighborhood.

Along with a reminder that not everything and everyone is a dangerous threat, except for droopy writing students.

But that’s just my take away.

 

The Human Condition On Notice

For those of us examining what’s called the human condition, it always starts with a mis-start, a broken heart, marriage/divorce combo, or unintended consequences like children.

That’s the human part, the screwed up part, the ‘should have known better’ part.

Then there’s the part about putting it all back together and moving on with life.

The End.

Nice and tidy, but what about seeing the ‘human condition’ before getting caught up in it?

 

Young Jimmy wrote a story in high school, a play he copied from Shakespeare, and won the English class Oscar.

The award was like the Stanley Cup and supposed to stay in the room, but Jimmy kept it.

He went to college to learn how to write better than Shakespeare, taking all English classes, then dropped out and moved to New York City because that’s where he was supposed to go to be a man of the people.

One day Jimmy met a cute girl from Oklahoma who asked him for the time while he read a paperback waiting for the subway.

Girl: Do you have the tam?

Jimmy:

Girl: Excuse me, do you have the tam?

Jimmy didn’t like to talk on the subway platform, but he looked up from his book.

Jimmy: What?

Girl: Do you have the tam?

Jimmy: Time? Do I have the ‘time?’ Yes, it’s time for you to get a watch.

He went back to his book.

Girl: People back home warned me about people like you.

Jimmy: People back home warned me about people like you, too.

Girl: People like who?

Jimmy: Cute, sweet girls who break the ice then pick your pocket.

Girl: Wherever you’re from, at least they got the cute and sweet part right.

Jimmy: It’s 5:30.

Girl: Is this where I’m supposed to rob you? I’m going to Brooklyn instead.

Jimmy: Me too.

 

Her subway stop was before Jimmy’s, but she stayed on with him the afternoon they met and hit it off as friends.

Susan had a serious boyfriend back home who she was certain wanted to marry her, so she introduced Jimmy to one of her work friends a few weeks later.

She invited him to dinner to meet her friend, but told him to get there early.

Susan: Annette is a nice girl, but she’s got a problem you need to know about.

Jimmy: I need to know about someone’s problems before I meet them? It sounds serious.

Susan: It is. She has intimacy issues.

Jimmy: Who doesn’t around here. It would be weird not to in New York.

Susan: She can’t help herself from sleeping with guys too soon after meeting them.

Jimmy: How soon?

Susan: I’m not sure how soon, but be nice.

 

Annette showed up on time and they had a nice dinner in Susan’s apartment.

At the end of the evening Jimmy asked Annette if she wanted him to walk her to the subway.

Susan frowned.

Annette: Why thank you for your chivalry, but I know the way.

Jimmy: Okay. It was nice meeting you.

Annette: The next thing you’ll ask is if you can carry my books.

Jimmy: You don’t have any books. And yes, I would ask.

 

Everyone said goodnight when Annette left.

Jimmy: She was nice.

Susan: Right up until you tried to pounce on her.

Jimmy: Manners, pounce, whatever. It’s Brooklyn in the dark. You might have to walk me to the train.

They both laughed, then the doorbell rang.

Annette stood in the doorway when Susan opened it.

Annette: I changed my mind about the walk to the subway.

Jimmy: I’ll grab my coat.

Annette lived five stops away from Jimmy.

Annette: My building is two blocks away from the train.

Jimmy: Is it a dark two blocks?

Annette: Dark and scary.

Jimmy stayed on the train, walked the two blocks, and Annette invited him to her apartment.

The walls were lined with the works of Charles Dickens.

He scanned the room when Annette turned and stood close in front of him.

Jimmy: You like Dickens.

Annette: I like some Dickens better than others and you look just right.

Jimmy: This could be the best of times, or the worst of times.

Annette: The age of wisdom, the age of foolishness.

Jimmy reached for A Tale Of Two Cities, Annette reached for him.

 

A Writer’s Story Review

The last thing a writer wants to do is a writer’s story based on their life.

That’s what my short story writer said they learned in grad school last night.

But, who listens. You work with what you’ve got.

 

PS: What’s a love story called without love? A drama.

 

PSS: What’s it called when it’s one misstep after another? It’s called life. Go ahead and check the steps, they can’t all be wrong.