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Encounters with the Writing Process |
 New Intention: Now in 2017 and the following years, if any, I shall use this journal for whatever I please to write.  Still, I reiterate: Read at your own risk! Old Intentions: Now, starting with June 2013, I will use this journal for the entries for "I Write in June-July-August "  . Afterward, I'll go back to the part I have down below in red. Still, read at your own risk.  Now, starting at the end of 2010, I am going to write into this journal directly, without making any other copies. Freeflow, but from prompts. I may use prompts or simple sentences as prompts, which I'll put on the subject line. I'll probably use some of the prompts from the Writing.com app. And yes, I do intend to make a fool of myself, because I miss writing on a good old fashioned typewriter with no other cares. Maybe some ancient and wise author like Dickens will watch me from Heaven, shake his head, and say, "You haven't made a dent." Not a dent, but making my own mud is my intention. So, if you read, read at your own risk. Truth is, I had started this journal in 2002 for the different reason of writing down ideas on the craft of writing. Over the years, my personal blog took over what I wanted to do here. Afterwards I continued with writing exercises with no order or plan to the entries. And now, this. Who says I can't let my hair down! Okay, I can't because my hair is short.  But I've got nerve.      |
| Antagonist Background Story No Church, No Consolation Perhaps the church would heal him, calm him down. Just maybe. As Aiden began sitting down, a church member tapped him on the shoulder to let him know that the seat was reserved. Who reserved pews in Church? It had to be his height again, or rather the lack of it, that drew vindictive actions from people. A darkness gathered on his face and rested there, but he rose obediently and crouched down in the only empty pew at the back. His mind now began evoking other things, with all kinds of scenarios ending in Aiden’s long lingering agony, this shortness of him, the elevator shoes that didn’t help. Only Penny had the power of charming away his brooding over his stature, over Carter, and all the other tall boys in school. Penny who was the golden knotted twine that tied Aiden to Carter and to Aiden’s painful past. Penny, the sound of her voice, the light of her giggle, the touch of her fingers. How could she have left him for Carter while they are all fledglings in high school? Granted, she might come back to him, but only after Carter would ditch her. And Aiden would gratefully accept this second-place to Carter. He knew he would. He grated his teeth, recalling a recent incident. The incident when all three of them were attending the Easter dance in the school’s large auditorium, crowded to suffocation, with teachers and chaperones. When Aiden, to make up for his short build, had climbed on a bench to see where Penny was, he was ordered down by Mrs. Reed, “Get down, Aiden!” Mrs. Reed, the teacher with the habitual scorn on her proud face, had flung herself upon him again, her anger at Aiden’s impropriety raging like fire. Yet, just before jumping off, Aiden had stopped spotting them, dancing cheek to cheek. That Carter, wrapped in his greatness of being the super student and football hero, stealing his girl. Not that Penny was officially Aiden’s girl, but she was the only girl who gave him the time of the day, and he had received her attentions with gratitude. He had been grateful because no other girl had looked his way. Ever! The reason, he surmised, was this shortness of him blocking any recognition from all those defiant girls. “Aiden! I am telling you. Get down!” He jumped then, without looking, right on Mrs. Reed’s feet, clad with short-heeled black pumps. Her screams in pain were neither ladylike nor slight nor ordinary, but unequalled in intensity. Such sordid luck! It had gotten him a day’s detention. All because of Carter. Maybe, he hardly knew Penny. She was so changed. No more that sweet smiling girl in Aiden’s imagination who would look toward his desk with interest and a wish to please. The service hadn’t started yet. His amiable intentions had made another mistake. Aiden glanced at the altar with an apologetic expression, drooped his head, and rose. No church for him today. No consolation. 0000000000000000000 Oct. 03, 2020-- CONTEST ROUND: Antagonist Background Story All the other non-contest assignments are in "2020 NaNo Prep" |
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