I do a lot of creative writing. Much of which I don't typically like to share. I used to think I wanted to strive to create a work worth publishing. I still toy with the idea of setting such a goal. Maybe when I am dead my children will stumble upon something in one of my many journals worth publishing. However, from time to time, I think it's good to share. I hope my following first entry into this thread will encourage others to contribute something. It's based on actual events.
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Last edited by tooblue; 06-28-2013 at 09:10 AM.
A little something I wrote recently:
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“I can't wait all my life on a street of broken dreams,” I said, quoting a line from a Journey song.
“What dream, to have Sarah?” She fired right back.
We were standing on her front porch; I had come to say goodbye because it seemed to me that we could no longer be friends. I had called her the day before to ask her to go walking with me, but instead of giving me a yes or no answer she complained about how busy she was and how much responsibility she had in her home. I was hurt and offended, and I decided that trying to be her friend was not working. But I couldn't leave it there; no, I had to go tell her.
Of course, I had always wanted to be more than friends. We had met about three years earlier when I went to a church dance one night; I spotted her in the crowd and asked her to dance. She was nice and friendly, something I didn't experience much with other girls at the time. For the next few years we would dance together at church dances, then after I turned sixteen I asked her to the junior prom. I had a wonderful time that night, and I thought she did too, but when I asked her out again a few weeks later, she gave me the brush off – at least that's how I interpreted it.
By then I had begun to have some very strong feelings for Sarah, feelings I didn't know how to handle. I tried to move on, but I found it to be very difficult. I thought it might be easier if we could be friends., but that had proved to be just as much of a challenge. So now I stood on her porch, telling her it was obvious that we couldn't be friends. She asked why, I quoted the lyric, and she threw it right back at me.
I was so taken aback by her question that is was long moment before I could say softly, “No, that she might like me as much as I like her.”
“How is that different?” She asked. Her arms were folded and it was clear she was upset.
“You made it sound cheap,” I answered, “like its just something physical.”
“I've seen the way you look at me.”
“Sarah, what are you talking about? I've never looked at you that way!”
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed.
“Alright, yes, I find you attractive,” I said, “but there's more to it than that.”
“Like what?'
“You used to be so nice and friendly to me.” I answered
“What do you mean, 'used to be'?”
“Since the prom you have been blowing hot and cold with me,” I replied. “Some days you are warm, but on others you are ice cold.”
“Why, because I don't always have time to make you happy?” she thundered back.
“Time?” I countered. “How much time does it take to say 'hi' when I see you in the halls at school? How much time does it take to ask 'how are you'?”
“Maybe I just don't feel like saying 'hi',” she said. Her voice was lower, but there was still an edge to it.
“To me,” I asked, “or to anybody?”
She opened her mouth to speak but bit off whatever she was going to say. She looked down for a moment, then, as she unfolded her arms, said, “It's not just you. Sometimes . . . I don't know, sometimes I just don't want to say anything.”
“When your having a bad day?” I asked.
“Yeah, something like that,” she answered.
“Okay, but everybody has bad days,” I said. “When I'm having a bad day it always helps me when I see some of my friends and exchange 'hellos'. Sometimes a smile can make my day.”
“Some days are just too much,” she replied.
“Okay, fair enough,” I said. “Now I'll know not to take it personally. But are you sure that's all there is, because I don't think you ever did that before I took you to the prom?”
“Sometimes you just want too much,” she answered.
It was my turn to stop and think; I looked away, towards the street, and when I looked back at her I knew she was right.
“I try and keep those feelings in check,” I said, “but sometimes I still want you. I still want you to like me as much as I like you.”
“But why me?” she asked.
“Because I fell for that girl I used to dance with at those church dances,” I replied. “I fell for that girl who was so nice to me, and so friendly, when no one else was. Not necessarily back then, but sophomore year, in those few months before the prom. You sat in front of me in geometry, we walked home together that one day, and when we danced at that street dance I had such a special feeling – a feeling I had never had dancing with anyone else.”
I looked her in the eye before continuing, “I had such a great time at the prom, it was magical, but then I lost it. I called to ask you out again and you turned me down, but it wasn't what you said, but how you said it, like you were too busy for me. I hoped you would ask me to the girl's choice dance, and when you didn't I thought you just didn't like me. I tried to forget about you and move on, I've dated other girls, but I just keep coming back to you.”
We stood there for a moment, looking into each others eyes, and then she said, “You waited too long to call and ask me out again. I waited and waited, wondering why you didn't call.”
At first I was stunned, then I let out a little laugh. “I was worried about calling too soon,” I said, “I'm sorry.”
“By the time you did call, I was angry,” she said.
“Hence the ice.”
She nodded.
My heart leaped into my throat as I asked, “Could we start over, or is it too late?”
“I don't know,” she said. “I'm still not sure why you like me so much.”
“What's not to like about you?” I asked rhetorically. “You're nice, friendly, smart and . . . beautiful.”
“You think I'm beautiful?” she asked, surprised.
“Of course,” I answered. “You have beautiful, long blond hair, green eyes and a winning smile. You're the prettiest girl in school, and what makes you even more beautiful is that you don't seem to realize it.”
She blushed as she looked down and put her hands in the front pockets of her jeans. “Oh, come on,” she said, “be serious.”
“I am serious.”
Sarah looked up, into my eyes, to see if I really was serious. After a few moments she said, “well, you're rather good looking yourself.”
I felt my cheeks get warm as I looked down at my shoes. Sarah stepped closer and lifted my chin with her finger. “I'm serious, too. I could get lost in those beautiful blue eyes.”
I wanted to turn away in embarrassment, but I was captured by her eyes. “So what now?” I asked.
“I suppose you should ask me out on a date.”
I nodded and said, “Let's go dancing.”
“Dinner first,” she said as she took my hands in hers.
"It'd be nice to please everyone but I thought it would be more interesting to have a point of view." -- Oscar Levant
I keep finding new nooks and crannies on this forum, and just discovered this thread. I also write from time to time, and not as often as I wish I would. I have dreams of publication, but seem to lack the discipline to really work at a piece or an idea long enough to bring it to life. I usually write short stories and occasionally enter flash fiction contests. I have a few short stories I've finished, and I keep a log of various story ideas, but unfortunately have more ideas than fortitude to dive into any of them.
Coincidently, I made a goal this week to write every night. I'm not allowing myself to relax in front of NetFlix once I put the kids to bed. I'm hoping that forcing myself to put some words down will get the creative juices and the motivation flowing again.
On another note, anyone here open to starting a Utahby5 writing group? I have no idea how it would work, when/where we'd meet, etc. but I'll just throw that out there to see if there are other interested parties.
I was out with my buddies from the squadron one night in Honolulu when I ran into her. I had not seen her in years, and Hawaii in the middle of a war was the last place I would have expected to find her. It was early April and my buddies and I had just got back into port, and we didn't know how long it would be before we would be going back out to sea. On this night we got liberty and were determined to make the most of it.
We had just finished eating dinner at a restaurant in Waikiki when it happened. We were walking out the door and she was walking in. At first I could not believe my eyes, but a split second later I knew it was her.
“Cass?” I asked, “what are you doing here?”
“Addy, is that you?” She seemed to be just as surprised as I was.
“Addy” was short for Addison, and it was a nickname I picked-up while still in grade school. “Cass” was short for Cassandra, which I had always thought sounded pretentious – as if Addison wasn't. We grew up in the same neighborhood, but I didn't really notice her until we were both 15. At that age we were allowed to go to church dances, and one night I noticed how pretty she was with her long blonde hair. We danced a few times and she was friendly and nice. A year later I asked her to a high school dance and on that magical evening I fell for her. We dated off and until graduation, but we never really got serious. We had hit another rough patch at the end of our senior year, but right after graduation I was off to Annapolis, Maryland, to attend the U.S. Naval Academy. That was almost six years ago; I had not seen her in all that time, and had all but forgotten her. But in that moment, in the doorway of that restaurant, it all came flooding back.
“Guys,” I said to my buddies, “I would like to introduce Miss Cassandra Harris from the old neighborhood back home.”
After each of my buddies introduced themselves to Cass, she turned to her friends. “Ladies, this is Addison Adams, the boy who got away.” She smiled and winked.
“It's Lieutenant (j.g.) Adams, now,” I said. “I'm a naval aviator.”
“And I'm Ensign Harris,” she said. “I'm a Navy nurse assigned to the hospital at Pearl Harbor.”
“Let's ditch our friends and go catch up on old times,” I suggested. “Do you mind fellas?”
My buddies didn't and neither did Cass's friends. In fact, the two groups joined and went off together while we went back into the restaurant. I got something light so she wouldn't have to eat alone, and then we talked about the last six years.
“I didn't know you wanted to join the Navy,” she said. “I was surprised when I learned that you were going to leave for the academy.”
“What I wanted to be was a pilot, and I needed the free education.”
“But why the Navy?”
“The Army didn't seem to want me,” I answered. “Actually, I fell in love with the Navy I read about in books, and I had an ancestor who served in the Navy during the War of 1812.”
“So you went off to Annapolis, and then became a pilot.”
“Not just a pilot,” I countered, “but an aviator. The Army has pilots, the Navy has aviators.”
“What's the difference,” she asked.
“For one, we're trained to take off from and land on ships,” I answered. “Anybody can takeoff from and land on a nice long runway, it takes an aviator to land on a small, pitching deck.”
“You seem rather confident,” she smiled.
“Not too confident, I hope.”
“No, no,” she said. “I like it. You didn't have this kind of confidence in high school.”
“I was just a boy, then,” I said. “The Navy made me into a man.”
“Quite a good looking one at that.” She smile again as I blushed.
“The last six years have been good to you, too,”I finally said.
“I managed to attend some college at the 'U', and then I entered nursing school, with the Navy's help, after the war began in Europe,” she reported. “That's why I'm here, now.”
“Thank heavens for the Navy,” I said, and this time it was my turn to smile.
“Thank heavens, indeed.” She put her hand on mine, but then quickly withdrew it.
After we finished eating we went walking along Waikiki, and we laughed as we recalled the good times back home. Then it was time to get her back to the hospital so I could get back to the squadron. We were about to part outside her dorm when she stopped me.
“Addy,” she said, “I know we weren't getting a long very well when you left.”
“That's okay,” I replied. “The important thing is that we've found each other again. Maybe it will work out better this time.”
“I hope so,” she said.
As I made my way back to the air station, I was on cloud nine. But that feeling dissipated when I reported in.
“Get a good night's rest Mister Adams,” said the duty officer. “We go back to sea tomorrow.”
"It'd be nice to please everyone but I thought it would be more interesting to have a point of view." -- Oscar Levant
USS, if I might make a one-word suggestion:
“And I'm Ensign Harris,” she said. “I'm a Navy nurse assigned to the hospital at Pearl.”
Yes, that works better. Thanks.Originally Posted by Katy Lied
Edit: I think I can drop "Navy", too.
“And I'm Ensign Harris,” she said. “I'm a nurse assigned to the hospital at Pearl.”
Last edited by USS Utah; 05-05-2013 at 12:51 PM.
"It'd be nice to please everyone but I thought it would be more interesting to have a point of view." -- Oscar Levant
I just want to applaud USA Utah for having the courage and self confidence to put his writing out for all to see and judge.
"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
--Antoine de Saint-Exupery
"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold."
--Yeats
“True, we [lawyers] build no bridges. We raise no towers. We construct no engines. We paint no pictures - unless as amateurs for our own principal amusement. There is little of all that we do which the eye of man can see. But we smooth out difficulties; we relieve stress; we correct mistakes; we take up other men's burdens and by our efforts we make possible the peaceful life of men in a peaceful state.”
--John W. Davis, founder of Davis Polk & Wardwell
I don't see it as too different from putting my photos out there.
"It'd be nice to please everyone but I thought it would be more interesting to have a point of view." -- Oscar Levant
Okay, I've revised Waikiki, which is the beginning of a novel I am working on, and have finished the first draft of the next section. Here is a link:
http://flattopshistorywarpolitics.yu...3#.UYwAAEp9OE4
"It'd be nice to please everyone but I thought it would be more interesting to have a point of view." -- Oscar Levant
A little short story I just wrote:
http://flattopshistorywarpolitics.yu...3#.U4U_eXZti2I
"It'd be nice to please everyone but I thought it would be more interesting to have a point of view." -- Oscar Levant
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