Entlover
05-27-2003, 11:39 PM
So here's a thread on plot:
Thinking up a plot is always hard for me. I contribute the following short story to show the problem: the plot is infinitesimal. I need to work on it more (suggestions welcome!)
It needs conflict and action.
___________________________________________--
SERENA
(Love always means taking a risk . . .)
“Here’s a website,” said Serena, “that says that all men are evil dark vampires lurking to feed off of the live-giving energy force of women.”
“Um-hum,” said Richard, giving her a hug around her shoulders. “And do you believe that?”
“Probably not,” she said. She clicked again. “Here’s one for women only: to join you have to recognize your flower-like qualities -- am I a lotus floating in the warm currents of life, connected to the mundane earth only by a slender stem?”
“That’s you, for sure.” He kissed her ear.
“Stop that!” She twisted in the chair and grabbed his hair. “How can I concentrate on serious matters?”
“The web will still be there tomorrow and tomorrow - give it a break. You’ve been on all morning. You'll dry up and blow away.”
“But my site needs so much work. It’s a mess. There’s nothing on it.”
“Write some more poems. Write some about me - intelligent, charismatic, handsome --”
“Vampire-like,” she added.
“I am nothing like a vampire. Just because I like to suck your blood . . .” He bared his teeth at her. “Seriously, you’re doing great for having been on the computer only a couple of weeks. I wish my students could pick it up that fast.”
“It’s challenging,” she said, shaking back her hair with a sigh. “So much more interesting than what I used to do.”
“I hope you don’t miss it too much.”
` She looked up at him. “Don’t worry. As long as you’re around -- “
“Which will be forever.”
“Let’s not get carried away.” She raised an admonitory finger.
He drew a deep breath and asked, “Why don’t we go to the beach this weekend?”
“It’s November,” she said. “It’ll be cold and gray --”
“I don’t care,” he said. “It won’t matter to you -- and all I care about is whether you’re happy.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, but he saw her smile. “Did you hear from the wheelchair people yet?”
“They confirmed my order. Should arrive downtown by Tuesday, I just have to pick it up. I still think we should consider --”
“No, I don’t need some four thousand dollar wonder machine. Just something simple we can fold up and stick in the back seat.”
“But an electric --”
“There’s nothing wrong with my arms. The exercise will do me good.”
“You’re the boss. You about ready for the tub?”
“Give me five more minutes. Go run the water like a dear. And not too warm this time, please.”
“Brrr.” He went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He could hear her typing briskly. He was still amazed at how quickly she had picked up the intricacies of the machine and the Internet.
He stood in the bathroom doorway and looked at her, a half smile on his face. Her masses of redgold hair tumbled down the back of one of his white shirts as she leaned forward, intent on the monitor. If her website readers could see her, the sheer beauty and grace of her, they would flock to read what she wrote -- he was still amazed and slightly stunned that she was with him. A little worried as well - he had to be honest with himself - that she might choose to go and not return. But he could not keep her prisoner. They would go to the beach, she would enjoy herself, and she would come back to him. And if not -- he would cherish what he had had. He opened his hands slightly. The poets all said it: you have to set free what you truly wish to keep.
The tub was two-thirds full. He turned it off and went back to the living room. “If Milady is ready. . .”
“Signing off.” A brisk click, and she turned to lift her arms to him. He brushed the thick hair back from her shoulder and bent to lift her in his arms. She was heavier than she looked, but still not much of a burden.
She rested her cheek on his shoulder as he carried her to the bathroom. Once there he lowered her gently into the water. Her tailfin curved out of the tub, but at least the rest of her fit nicely.
“Now,” she said, “could you just hand me that book on the counter?”
“Myths and Legends,” he read as he handed it to her. “Reading up on your fellow mythical beings?”
“Pays to know the competition.” She smiled up at him, and his heart melted once more.
_________________________________________
Thinking up a plot is always hard for me. I contribute the following short story to show the problem: the plot is infinitesimal. I need to work on it more (suggestions welcome!)
It needs conflict and action.
___________________________________________--
SERENA
(Love always means taking a risk . . .)
“Here’s a website,” said Serena, “that says that all men are evil dark vampires lurking to feed off of the live-giving energy force of women.”
“Um-hum,” said Richard, giving her a hug around her shoulders. “And do you believe that?”
“Probably not,” she said. She clicked again. “Here’s one for women only: to join you have to recognize your flower-like qualities -- am I a lotus floating in the warm currents of life, connected to the mundane earth only by a slender stem?”
“That’s you, for sure.” He kissed her ear.
“Stop that!” She twisted in the chair and grabbed his hair. “How can I concentrate on serious matters?”
“The web will still be there tomorrow and tomorrow - give it a break. You’ve been on all morning. You'll dry up and blow away.”
“But my site needs so much work. It’s a mess. There’s nothing on it.”
“Write some more poems. Write some about me - intelligent, charismatic, handsome --”
“Vampire-like,” she added.
“I am nothing like a vampire. Just because I like to suck your blood . . .” He bared his teeth at her. “Seriously, you’re doing great for having been on the computer only a couple of weeks. I wish my students could pick it up that fast.”
“It’s challenging,” she said, shaking back her hair with a sigh. “So much more interesting than what I used to do.”
“I hope you don’t miss it too much.”
` She looked up at him. “Don’t worry. As long as you’re around -- “
“Which will be forever.”
“Let’s not get carried away.” She raised an admonitory finger.
He drew a deep breath and asked, “Why don’t we go to the beach this weekend?”
“It’s November,” she said. “It’ll be cold and gray --”
“I don’t care,” he said. “It won’t matter to you -- and all I care about is whether you’re happy.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, but he saw her smile. “Did you hear from the wheelchair people yet?”
“They confirmed my order. Should arrive downtown by Tuesday, I just have to pick it up. I still think we should consider --”
“No, I don’t need some four thousand dollar wonder machine. Just something simple we can fold up and stick in the back seat.”
“But an electric --”
“There’s nothing wrong with my arms. The exercise will do me good.”
“You’re the boss. You about ready for the tub?”
“Give me five more minutes. Go run the water like a dear. And not too warm this time, please.”
“Brrr.” He went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He could hear her typing briskly. He was still amazed at how quickly she had picked up the intricacies of the machine and the Internet.
He stood in the bathroom doorway and looked at her, a half smile on his face. Her masses of redgold hair tumbled down the back of one of his white shirts as she leaned forward, intent on the monitor. If her website readers could see her, the sheer beauty and grace of her, they would flock to read what she wrote -- he was still amazed and slightly stunned that she was with him. A little worried as well - he had to be honest with himself - that she might choose to go and not return. But he could not keep her prisoner. They would go to the beach, she would enjoy herself, and she would come back to him. And if not -- he would cherish what he had had. He opened his hands slightly. The poets all said it: you have to set free what you truly wish to keep.
The tub was two-thirds full. He turned it off and went back to the living room. “If Milady is ready. . .”
“Signing off.” A brisk click, and she turned to lift her arms to him. He brushed the thick hair back from her shoulder and bent to lift her in his arms. She was heavier than she looked, but still not much of a burden.
She rested her cheek on his shoulder as he carried her to the bathroom. Once there he lowered her gently into the water. Her tailfin curved out of the tub, but at least the rest of her fit nicely.
“Now,” she said, “could you just hand me that book on the counter?”
“Myths and Legends,” he read as he handed it to her. “Reading up on your fellow mythical beings?”
“Pays to know the competition.” She smiled up at him, and his heart melted once more.
_________________________________________