Love’s first bite

This week’s exercise is about creating tension in an otherwise happy situation. Those of you who know me well can probably piece this together into the rest of my life well. I’m having fun doing this! Hope you enjoy.

***

I was floating on cloud nine. I had finally met the love of my life, and I was living out on my own. We spent days and nights together, hardly ever apart. Our colorful room, decorated with christmas lights and paintings of nude women, was a place of excitement, passion, and conversations about saving the world that went deep into the night. We cooked pasta together, his arms wrapped around my waist and kisses gently placed on my neck and shoulders. A mix of Bailey’s and ice cream was a perfect evening drink, indeed. Parties welcomed us with open arms, as we danced half dressed in the glow of neon lights and a little ecstasy, a smile spreading endlessly across our faces. His friends remarked on how happy he finally was, having spent most of his years in deep depression and anxiety.

***

He placed the edge of the capsule on the mirror and tapped gently. He handed me a card.

“Break it up a little.”

Eagerly I mixed the white dust around, making two piles that were exactly the same to the crumb. He licked the mirror first. I hesitated, and licked the second pile. I was working up to bigger highs, not really knowing what to expect with larger doses. He was patient and in no hurry. Though the pills did come out of the box about every other day or so. As did the Roughies.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to take stimulants so often,” I said as he was shaving in the shower.

He peeked out from behind the curtain, “They help me wake up and be productive.”

I shrugged and walked out. He’s older. He must know what he’s doing, I thought.

***

I spread my legs and the flash went off. I bent backwards and more flickering lights hit my skin. Completely naked, post-coitus, a high painted on my droopy eyelids. He hooked the camera up to his computer and started uploading the pictures.

“In my perfect world, everyone is always naked and having sex,” he said while clicking the mouse.

“Don’t you think there are some situations where that wouldn’t work out?”

“Not really. If we just allow ourselves to be completely free and have no boundaries then war and anger will perish.”

***

“Um, these are interesting pictures,” my friend said when I showed him the website.

“This is just like any other form of expression. Sex is everything – it is the very essence of life, you can bring everything in the universe back to orgasm. So we’re sharing ourselves freely with the world in hopes that they will find themselves a little freer too. No boundaries.”

“Yeah… You know he could go to jail for taking these?”

“Well my parents aren’t going do anything about us, and they aren’t going to find this site, so we’re fine.”

My friend closed the lid of his computer. “I support you in whatever choices you make, you know that. I just hope you’re being careful.”

“Of course I am! I know how to take care of myself.” I hugged him and left.

Los Angeles was home.

This is a writing assignment for this week’s Creative Writing class; it gives a good sensory background for my life, as well as the character I’m writing. These are the good things that happened, and starkly contrasts the underlying darkness that was always present. I think I will write one that describes the other half of the story as well.

***

The brown thickness that hangs in the air was not apparent to me, then. All I can remember is the sunshine and blue skies, cheerful days and many laughs with my mother.

The muggy scent of earth was a morning ritual. My mother, watering the concrete pavement as she watered the plants, would then call me downstairs to press my small nose against the ground and inhale. It smelled like home. The steam rose in clouds from the ground as the bright Southern sun beamed down.

We adventured to the LA County Museum; I took giant leaps up the stairway that seemed to go on forever. The monumental glass buildings rose far into the sky, cold metal beams creating hammocks between empty spaces. Walking in, a metal man stretched up toward the ceiling, four stories high. He bent at the waist like an oil rig, dipping back and forth for as many years as I ended up living there. We walked through glass halls filled with nondescript paintings and piles of what looked like garbage. Three circles on a blank canvas piqued my curiosity, and we created stories about how one was perhaps an outcast from the other two and thus stood apart.

We sat on logs worn down by the waves, the salty air hanging thickly in our nostrils. My mother handed me a triangle: pita bread filled thinly with bologna and crunchy lettuce, the rich flavor of which was absolute comfort at the time. Sipping sweetened Lipton from the cap of a metal green thermos, I couldn’t have been happier. The seagulls squawked loudly as we threw pieces of bread into their open mouths mid-flight. The ocean rolled in and out, like a lullaby putting a baby to sleep. My mothers arms around me felt like the safest place in the world, her firm grip making me feel safe, the soft skin of her cheek pressed against mine. I didn’t know then how far apart my mother and I would be one day. All I knew is that we were the best of friends, and nothing could separate us.

desining a story

i admit i haven’t done a whole lot of story writing in my life; most writing has been in journals and on blogs. but i’ve heard more than once that people enjoy reading my writing, and i enjoy re-reading it myself. i have taken a couple writing classes in the past and took a screenwriting class at a community college way back in the day. i tend to have a flow when it comes to telling stories, it’s really not that hard for me. however continuing with the same story when it’s longer than 5 pages is difficult, so i need a little bit of corralling to get me to stick with it.

the first thing i decided is that i was going to write about myself. what other subject could i possibly know with such great detail? each one of us has had enough shit happen in our lives that we could write novels on the subject. so why not do just that? so what does that entail? here’s the list of life experiences i want to incorporate into the story, going from most important to least (and probably not used at all but will just be present as subtext):

• artistic mania/depression – unfocused approach to building life
• piano, childhood spent training
• adulthood – wanting to be seen, haunted by past social ineptitude
• parents – religious fanaticism
• loneliness, first generation from immigrants = social awkwardness
• seeing things from different, deeper perspective – always looking through the window to see the contrast*
• single parenting
• having a brilliant daughter, happy as can be – no matter mama’s ups and downs
• physical weakness, body not able to do as you want – connects to piano as #1
• relationship with unstable person, fails after giving it everything you had
• polyamory, kink

* what i mean here is that i am able to appreciate things better from a distance – i.e. a rainy day seen through a window from inside a warm home, a family playing with their kids at a distance, and movies. for whatever reason, i have a much more passionate response when i can see the direct contrast of whatever it is i’m looking at, rather than being immersed in it. there’s a tarot card in the Osho Zen deck that illustrates this perfectly, which i have continuously been pulling for the last couple years.

the second thing i decided is that *said actor* is going to be the other lead, or at least i’m going write the part with him in mind. however, i don’t know who this character is or who to draw the story from. i sat there for a while trying to think of how to create this person, then decided i’d rather start writing and did just that.

i began with a scene depicting the female lead painting and having flashbacks into her childhood. it was easy. the visuals came right to me. so i kept writing for the next few nights, writing a page or two at a time. then i got to page 18 and realized that i’ve already written the climax of the whole film. so i decided to step back and try to actually figure out my story first. i am happy that i wrote freely first instead of obsessing with details, because it allowed me to stretch my writing muscles and create a few really colorful scenes that i can use in the next draft.

after some research, i came upon quite a few useful articles that i’ll link later. the best one i found, however, was an 8-part story structure that was originally designed by Frank Daniel at USC. It goes something like this (1-6 borrowed from http://karratti.com):

Sequence 1: Homeostasis – Our New Ordinary World
– This is the first time that we’re seeing our protagonists, the setting, the time, and everything else about the story. Show the protagonist(s) in their homeostasis.
– See the conflict that pulls the protagonist out of their “norm”.
– Set the tone for the rest of the film.

Sequence 2: Excuse Me, But I Have a Concern
– What is the point of attack?  Show the main problem that the protagonist is going to have to face for the remainder of the film.
– The character should also set the goal for themselves, regardless of their own amount of motivation in pursuing it.

Sequence 3: Well, Let’s Give It a Try
– At this point, the protagonist doesn’t have his whole heart in the attempt. He’s making a naive attempt.
– The tone here can still be relatively light-hearted, if the story permits.
– While the attempt is going to end in failure, the consequence shouldn’t be too great, because the attempt wasn’t all that great, either.

Sequence 4: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
– This is the protagonist’s second attempt, with more planning and ambition than the first one.
– There should definitely be a more serious tone, despite whatever genre the film is in.
– The sequence should end with the protagonist hitting his lowest point.  Do the worst possible thing you can do to this guy.

Sequence 5: The Calm Before the Storm
– This is the lowest point of the story for the protagonist.
– This is truly a calm before the storm of the climax, where the protagonist must muster his forces for one last, final strike against the antagonist.
– Often, other characters will act as the protagonist’s conscience, showing them what they must do to overcome this seemingly insurmountable enemy.

Sequence 6: The Final Test
– The climax begins with the proverbial climb to the final summit.
– There can be no chance for escape, at least reasonably. This final action should be one that must happen.
– The choice/action of the climax must be irreversible. There is no turning back after this has occurred.
– The protagonist will be changed forever because of the actions of the climax.

Sequence 7: Resolution
– The protagonist attains his goal, or meets a tragic end

Sequence 8: Tying Loose Ends
-We get a sense that the story continues after the film is over
– Side character’s stories are wrapped up.

this was incredibly useful information. i know, i know – we’re all tired of formula, right? well, i think we’re actually tired of genres more than formula. the formula is actually very well calculated based on human emotional expectations and hormonal timing. it’s the same thing i learned in photography and color & design – there are natural “hot spots” for us, focal points, tensions and resolutions that make us feel good when we experience them. if you go too far outside that, your audience will easily get confused or bored. if that’s what you’re going for then please go right ahead. but i think there are ways to learn to use the “rules” that people have figured out over long periods of time to your advantage, without necessarily pigeon holing your own work. so based on this outline i came up with my skeleton (this was the 3rd draft, the 1st two ended up telling totally different stories):

I. Dylan is an artist and single mom, working to make ends meet. She has some stability in her life, but comes back to her creativity for grounding. She is controlled by her dark memories of childhood, and has an obsession with creating art that expresses that. She never talks about it.

II. She ends up obsessively creating artwork, and loses her job as a result. Lily, her daughter, isn’t happy, looks hurt, and Vera – her lover – is worried about them.

III. On her search for a new job, she meets Brady, a schizophrenic who seems charming on the outside. She is intrigued by him, but doesn’t know he’s insane. She doesn’t get the job because she is more interested in talking to Brady.

IV. Brady tells her he can get her hired, she believes him. He ends up taking her to an imaginary “office” and ends up revealing his insanity as well as a really dark past. She leaves, distraught that both the job she was promised and this person she was falling for turned out to be insanity.

V. She wallows around her house, not knowing how to get her life into stability. Lily reminds her of the importance of trusting in herself, and forgiving others.

VI. She goes to her parents to ask them for work/assistance, and is reminded of the mess her childhood was. Breaks down, runs away. Brady happens to be there to remind her that things aren’t really so bad. He doesn’t remember her, however, and it’s as though they are meeting for the first time.

VII. She decides to make money with her art, taking up an offer that she turned down before for fear of sharing her pain with the world.

VIII. Brady continues to be an uncertain but consistent presence in their lives in whatever capacity he can be. Sometimes he remembers them, sometimes not. But the love he has for her is always in his eyes, even if he thinks he’s seeing her for the first time.

i was really happy with it when i finally got it down. it was the story that had been swimming around in my head but i couldn’t quite get it organized until i had that outline to help. feedback greatly welcomed.

*i realize it’s probably dangerous to share my work this way while i’m writing it, without any copyright protection of any kind. but you know what, this is 2010. the internet works in magical ways, and i believe that freedom of information is more valuable than clutching your possessions at your breast. in my experience, when you let go of ego and of expectation that life starts to flow freely and throw you exactly what you need at the right moment.