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Week 4 posts / HOME - Final Draft
« on: August 29, 2020, 06:29:22 PM »
Yay, we made it to the final week of Writer in Motion! I love how this little verse turned out, but it wouldn't be where it is today without the help of some amazing critique partners. Huge thanks to Shayna Grissom and Melissa Bergum for giving it the final polish, and also to my CPs from the first round of edits, Sara Bond and Dani Frank. It has been a joy to work with everyone and their stories!
Final version of HOME is posted here: https://tmnstories.com/wim-r3-final/
Thanks for reading!
Final version of HOME is posted here: https://tmnstories.com/wim-r3-final/
Thanks for reading!
2
Week 3 posts / HOME (CP Edit)
« on: August 22, 2020, 06:11:20 AM »
Website post here (if you're interested in seeing the mark-ups): https://tmnstories.com/wim-r3-cpdraft/
For this CP round, I was super fortunate to be matched up with the talented Sara Bond and Dani Frank! Their stories may happen to be on the opposite ends of the emotional spectrum, but boy were they on the same tier of fantastic! I loved their writing styles and am so grateful for their valuable insights on HOME improvement
Here are some of their suggestions that I've incorporated into this latest revision:
HOME
They took you from me that day.
You left me behind and said your goodbyes, but the tears in your eyes told me it was never your choice to leave. Your face pressed against the car window and your voice calling out my name seared into my brain like a map leaving a trail for me to follow.
I ran away that night.
When all was dark and quiet and no one suspected a thing, I left behind what was ours to bring you back again. But where would I start? Where would I go? All I had was that memory of you in my head leading me along like an unraveled string.
I took to the roads.
Miles and miles of shiny black asphalt teeming with cars going far too fast for this old boy - I must admit it frightened me plenty. But I didn't go back. I braved traffic and carried on, hugging the fragile yellow line that marked the shoulder to safety.
I saw the turn.
The knot formed deep in my gut roped me sideways, and I knew without a doubt that's where they'd taken you. The woods loomed dense with evil, but for you I'd go, so I veered from steady lights and marched into darkness, wondering if I'd make it out alive again.
They found me.
They hunted me down no matter how carefully I stepped, for hungry beasts under moonlight sense fear like prey. Though old and weary, I clung to your strength through our woven bond to survive their wicked teeth and their whetted claws. But they left me barely standing.
I crawled.
I crawled through the mud and the muck and the uprooted trees to the stream I heard bubbling nearby like salvation. I drank from its bank to relieve my parched throat, but there was no relief for the gash in my side gushing blood, hot as lava. Was this the end?
I saw light.
The light everyone talks about when the time comes after a long life well lived, do you know it? It came for me from behind the trees atop the knoll like a beacon of hope, but I fought it like mad for I wasn't yet ready. Not 'til I found you first.
I heard your voice.
It was your voice that came from that light, a lulling ebb and flow that sang to me like a lullaby I recognized from years ago. I followed your song to the top of that hill until my last thread of strength gave out, and I fell limp at your glowing door.
I heard you running.
It was really you behind the door, crying in disbelief, tears pouring down your face like a rushing waterfall. You wrapped your tiny arms around my filthy matted fur and whispered words of love, mending every wound on my tired broken body.
Then you tucked me in
Like the end of a string,
Making our reel whole again,
And with you, I'm finally home.
For this CP round, I was super fortunate to be matched up with the talented Sara Bond and Dani Frank! Their stories may happen to be on the opposite ends of the emotional spectrum, but boy were they on the same tier of fantastic! I loved their writing styles and am so grateful for their valuable insights on HOME improvement
Here are some of their suggestions that I've incorporated into this latest revision:- Both loved the string metaphor at the beginning and end of the poem and thought it would make more impact if I could weave in more references throughout. You'll see in my revisions where I threaded a few in =)
- The tense shifts were jarring, so I changed the poem to past tense, with the exception of the last line. I kept that line in present tense to convey the image of the narrator being home, telling the tale of his journey
- Some words didn't translate well and could use better phrasing
HOME
They took you from me that day.
You left me behind and said your goodbyes, but the tears in your eyes told me it was never your choice to leave. Your face pressed against the car window and your voice calling out my name seared into my brain like a map leaving a trail for me to follow.
I ran away that night.
When all was dark and quiet and no one suspected a thing, I left behind what was ours to bring you back again. But where would I start? Where would I go? All I had was that memory of you in my head leading me along like an unraveled string.
I took to the roads.
Miles and miles of shiny black asphalt teeming with cars going far too fast for this old boy - I must admit it frightened me plenty. But I didn't go back. I braved traffic and carried on, hugging the fragile yellow line that marked the shoulder to safety.
I saw the turn.
The knot formed deep in my gut roped me sideways, and I knew without a doubt that's where they'd taken you. The woods loomed dense with evil, but for you I'd go, so I veered from steady lights and marched into darkness, wondering if I'd make it out alive again.
They found me.
They hunted me down no matter how carefully I stepped, for hungry beasts under moonlight sense fear like prey. Though old and weary, I clung to your strength through our woven bond to survive their wicked teeth and their whetted claws. But they left me barely standing.
I crawled.
I crawled through the mud and the muck and the uprooted trees to the stream I heard bubbling nearby like salvation. I drank from its bank to relieve my parched throat, but there was no relief for the gash in my side gushing blood, hot as lava. Was this the end?
I saw light.
The light everyone talks about when the time comes after a long life well lived, do you know it? It came for me from behind the trees atop the knoll like a beacon of hope, but I fought it like mad for I wasn't yet ready. Not 'til I found you first.
I heard your voice.
It was your voice that came from that light, a lulling ebb and flow that sang to me like a lullaby I recognized from years ago. I followed your song to the top of that hill until my last thread of strength gave out, and I fell limp at your glowing door.
I heard you running.
It was really you behind the door, crying in disbelief, tears pouring down your face like a rushing waterfall. You wrapped your tiny arms around my filthy matted fur and whispered words of love, mending every wound on my tired broken body.
Then you tucked me in
Like the end of a string,
Making our reel whole again,
And with you, I'm finally home.
3
Week 2 posts / Draft 2: Home
« on: August 15, 2020, 07:44:21 PM »
Hi everyone! Here's the link to my self-edited draft: https://tmnstories.com/wim-r3-sedraft/
4
Week 4 posts / The Crow on a Birch
« on: December 03, 2019, 12:58:37 AM »
A little late, but here it is! Thanks to Ariana, Rebecca, SKaeth, and Kristen for all their help with my story! You ladies rock 
https://www.tmnstories.com/wim-round-2-week-4-the-final-draft/
https://www.tmnstories.com/wim-round-2-week-4-the-final-draft/
5
Week 3 posts / Draft 3: The Crow on a Birch
« on: November 23, 2019, 05:52:16 AM »
Thank you Ariana for your help with my latest draft!
https://www.tmnstories.com/wim-round-2-week-3-the-cp-edited-draft/
https://www.tmnstories.com/wim-round-2-week-3-the-cp-edited-draft/
6
Week 2 posts / Self-Edited: The Crow on a Birch
« on: November 15, 2019, 06:11:10 PM »
Finally got my self-edits in this week! https://www.tmnstories.com/wim-round-2-week-2-the-self-edited-draft/
Working in a little characterization for my MC tore up my first draft quite a bit Hopefully, it's for the better. Thanks for reading!
Working in a little characterization for my MC tore up my first draft quite a bit
Hopefully, it's for the better. Thanks for reading!
7
Week 1 posts / The Crow on a Birch
« on: November 09, 2019, 01:16:58 AM »
Hi guys! My first draft is up at https://www.tmnstories.com/wim-r2-week1/
For those who don't feel like clicking and just want to read the messy draft, here it is
The Crow on a Birch
I sit stiff in my chair, appraising the trio of good ole boys wearing varying shades of managerial blue button-downs.
?You?ve been such a great asset to this company,? my new boss says, clearing his throat. ?But with the new merger?words can?t express just how sorry we are.? He steeples his fingers, his prickish face drooping with false grief.
Great asset? I?m more than just an asset. I?m the creator of the same goddamn app that launched this company into the greedy sights of WonderCorps acquisitions team.
Fury washes over me, but I don?t give him the satisfaction of losing my cool. I don?t want them to see how much their betrayal hurts me. I stare hard into his eyes, watching him squirm, watching him try to justify docking me after thirty-five years of loyal sweat. I?ve been here from the ground up. But he?s young, and his idea of contribution doesn?t jive with mine.
His eyes brighten with consolation. ?You?ll be pleased with the severance package, I?m sure. It?s quite generous. More than enough to set you up for a nice early retirement.?
I blink once. The gall of these people! Trying to buy out my stakes with a mere pittance. It?s not even about the money. It was never about the money. My boring but rapidly compounding index funds alone can cover me and my orphan heirs at the local Casas de Los Ninos for perpetuity at an annual withdrawal rate of 4%. But I digress. I won?t waste another minute with these smucks.
?It?s been real,? I say. Then I get up and walked out of the office, leaving all three sitting there slack-jawed.
I go to my desk to gather my things, but there?s nothing there worth gathering. Except maybe the miniature bamboo stalk I received from my favorite assistant one Lunar New Year. She too had been let go. I grab it by its China blue vase and exited the drab brown building into the sunshine.
What now? I dread going back to my lonely apartment. To my lone chair at my lone table watching some laugh-tracked re-run with my lone microwave dinner. No, I?m not ready for that. Not when it?s barely even noon.
I stroll past the bus stop, wandering aimlessly, seeing things for the first time. Cars sitting in smoggy traffic. Candy wrappers littering the sidewalks. A hotdog cart inside a lush park I didn?t know existed.
I buy one loaded with extra relish and take it to a nearby bench. Nearby, a shimmering crow caws at me from atop a speckled white birch. I toss a few crumbs in its direction, but a flock of geese quickly swoop in and swipe them away.
The crow retreats and cranes her neck at me from her perch. But she makes no move to compete for the bread. She waits patiently, watching me until I break off a chunk of hotdog and offer it to her from my hand. Only then did she alight to flitter at my side.
Revelation strikes me. Let them act the goose, clambering for crumbs. I?d rather be the crow on a birch, feasting in the end.
I decide I want revenge.
No doubt you?re thinking of the malicious kind where I hijack the firm?s system and turn my code onto itself, eating away its efficiency like Pac-Man on dots. But that isn?t me. I?m not that obvious.
Instead, I envision myself playing a female Andy Dufresne, crawling through five football fields full of shit and coming out clean on the other side. That?s the kind of revenge I want.
It takes me two solid years, but I design a new software suite even more efficient than the last. I know my old code like the back of my hand?all its wonders and all its flaws. I use that to my advantage. I heed client reviews and develop features the old app wouldn?t dream of. In short, I best my own work and then sell it anonymously to WonderCorp?s competitor for half its worth. Yes, I know. I?m petty like that.
It only takes three quarters for WonderCorp?s clients to flip allegiance. Meanwhile, I make weekly visits to the park, feeding the crow and collecting the shiny trinkets she brings me. All while watching the empire I helped build crumble.
But my sadness is fleeting. It?s hard to find sympathy for chauvinist geese. They should know better than to take crumbs meant for the crow. You never know what kind of dynamite hides beneath its wing.
For those who don't feel like clicking and just want to read the messy draft, here it is
The Crow on a Birch
I sit stiff in my chair, appraising the trio of good ole boys wearing varying shades of managerial blue button-downs.
?You?ve been such a great asset to this company,? my new boss says, clearing his throat. ?But with the new merger?words can?t express just how sorry we are.? He steeples his fingers, his prickish face drooping with false grief.
Great asset? I?m more than just an asset. I?m the creator of the same goddamn app that launched this company into the greedy sights of WonderCorps acquisitions team.
Fury washes over me, but I don?t give him the satisfaction of losing my cool. I don?t want them to see how much their betrayal hurts me. I stare hard into his eyes, watching him squirm, watching him try to justify docking me after thirty-five years of loyal sweat. I?ve been here from the ground up. But he?s young, and his idea of contribution doesn?t jive with mine.
His eyes brighten with consolation. ?You?ll be pleased with the severance package, I?m sure. It?s quite generous. More than enough to set you up for a nice early retirement.?
I blink once. The gall of these people! Trying to buy out my stakes with a mere pittance. It?s not even about the money. It was never about the money. My boring but rapidly compounding index funds alone can cover me and my orphan heirs at the local Casas de Los Ninos for perpetuity at an annual withdrawal rate of 4%. But I digress. I won?t waste another minute with these smucks.
?It?s been real,? I say. Then I get up and walked out of the office, leaving all three sitting there slack-jawed.
I go to my desk to gather my things, but there?s nothing there worth gathering. Except maybe the miniature bamboo stalk I received from my favorite assistant one Lunar New Year. She too had been let go. I grab it by its China blue vase and exited the drab brown building into the sunshine.
What now? I dread going back to my lonely apartment. To my lone chair at my lone table watching some laugh-tracked re-run with my lone microwave dinner. No, I?m not ready for that. Not when it?s barely even noon.
I stroll past the bus stop, wandering aimlessly, seeing things for the first time. Cars sitting in smoggy traffic. Candy wrappers littering the sidewalks. A hotdog cart inside a lush park I didn?t know existed.
I buy one loaded with extra relish and take it to a nearby bench. Nearby, a shimmering crow caws at me from atop a speckled white birch. I toss a few crumbs in its direction, but a flock of geese quickly swoop in and swipe them away.
The crow retreats and cranes her neck at me from her perch. But she makes no move to compete for the bread. She waits patiently, watching me until I break off a chunk of hotdog and offer it to her from my hand. Only then did she alight to flitter at my side.
Revelation strikes me. Let them act the goose, clambering for crumbs. I?d rather be the crow on a birch, feasting in the end.
I decide I want revenge.
No doubt you?re thinking of the malicious kind where I hijack the firm?s system and turn my code onto itself, eating away its efficiency like Pac-Man on dots. But that isn?t me. I?m not that obvious.
Instead, I envision myself playing a female Andy Dufresne, crawling through five football fields full of shit and coming out clean on the other side. That?s the kind of revenge I want.
It takes me two solid years, but I design a new software suite even more efficient than the last. I know my old code like the back of my hand?all its wonders and all its flaws. I use that to my advantage. I heed client reviews and develop features the old app wouldn?t dream of. In short, I best my own work and then sell it anonymously to WonderCorp?s competitor for half its worth. Yes, I know. I?m petty like that.
It only takes three quarters for WonderCorp?s clients to flip allegiance. Meanwhile, I make weekly visits to the park, feeding the crow and collecting the shiny trinkets she brings me. All while watching the empire I helped build crumble.
But my sadness is fleeting. It?s hard to find sympathy for chauvinist geese. They should know better than to take crumbs meant for the crow. You never know what kind of dynamite hides beneath its wing.
8
Tacos & Beverages / I just want to see my tacos
« on: September 19, 2019, 07:22:40 PM »
Whoop, there it is!
Pages: [1]