Story Starters from Real Life

Mandy and I were exchanging stories about our lives today, and the writing exercises were everywhere.  Just a few good tidbits…

1. They were in sitting in their car when I drove into the parking lot.  I got out, unlocked the front door and turned on the lights before they came into the building. “Ma’am, we’re from the FBI…”
2. Let’s just say that his employees were not hired for their skill sets…
3. Shortly after I arrived, she gave me a tour of the house.  Walking into her bedroom, I said,  “Oh, I didn’t know you played the drums…”

Writing Group is Coming Up!

Time to start collecting good writing exercises!  Like…

• Compile a list of infrequently asked questions (and their answers).
• Describe three (or five or twelve) distinct characters solely through the way they relate to the gap between reality and what is possible.
• What English writing assignments do you wish you’d been assigned in high school?
• List ten good reasons why a character would be convinced they couldn’t do something that they are, in fact, fully skilled in and able to accomplish.
• Invent a new sport, list its rules, and describe its typical fan.

Story Starters and Writing Exercises We Have Known

1.  The other day, my TV was frozen on the Wheel of Fortune…

2.  Write about a forbidden meal.

3.  Describe an unusual kind of boot camp.

4. Write about an experience with a fortune cookie.

5.  Write out a call to a radio talk show host.

(More) Frozen on the Wheel of Fortune

The other day my TV was frozen on the Wheel of Fortune.  There were so many other things it could have been: The Price is Right, Who Wants to Be A Millionaire, The Dating Game even.  But instead, I got endless Vanna.

The remote was stuck on mute, too, the final result of too many sticky fingers fondling the buttons.  So, I guess I shouldn’t complain about the Wheel of Fortune – at least I could follow along.  Except following requires some modicum of attention, some investment in whether your guess is wrong or right, whether the prize could have been yours.

I confess to having neither attention nor investment.  I’m not even sure I had any brain cells active at that point.

The house was stupidly quiet without the kids.  Tracey had bundled up every last Barbie doll for her overnight with Stacey.  Watching Vanna move across the stage I wondered how her proportions compared to Barbie’s.  There couldn’t be too much difference there.  Fortunately, Tracey would never have that problem – which only meant, of course, that she’d have a million others.

Steven was on an overnight as well, probably having similar thoughts about the ways women’s bodies curve, extend, and protrude.  Or, rather, variations on the theme.  The geeky contestant who was leading the game reminded me of Steven, giving me hope.  Yes, there really are boys who survive their teenage years.

Barbara had been gone three years now.  She hardly ever called now, her life so full of whatever it is young women fill it with these days.  Different than my college days.  So different.

The guy running the show – was it Bob Barker?  I think all the game show hosts are Bob Barker -  I realized he reminded me of Don.  No one had reminded me of Don in a long time.  No one and everyone.  I tried not to think of him since he ran off with the raccoon lady.  But that Bob Barker smile, the one that says everything is grand and simple and either you’re on top of the world or else you’re dog meat – Don had that smile.

The girl who was losing – yeah, that one was me.  Bright smile pasted over expectations that once seemed so possible, and now just seemed foolish.  That “I can stick this out” clench to her jaw, the too pale caste to her skin.  The willingness to keep playing the game you’ve already lost just for the sake of the ratings.  Yup, that’s me.

Frozen on Wheel of Fortune

The other day my tv was frozen on Wheel of Fortune.  I couldn’t get it to change channels.  I tried the remote – feet up on the coffee table, lounging back on a nice, fat pillow, ice cream melting in a bowl by my side – pointing the remote and repeatedly pressing the channel button.  Nothing.  I stared at the remote, then pointed it and pushed again.  Nothing.  I remembered all the various stories I’d heard about pointing into one’s open mouth, or pointing it at the opposite wall – tried it all.  Nothing.  I shook it and tried again.  Nothing.  Giving up on the channel change, I tried just shutting it off.  Power button on the remote.  Nothing.  Disgusted, I tried the volume up button.  That worked.  Ok.  Volume down.  That DIDN’T work.  Volume up?  Yes.  Now it was quite loud.  But nothing else on the remote worked. I shook it again, and pressed the various buttons in turn.  Nothing.

With a deep, gusty sigh, I lifted my feet off the coffee table and prepared to approach the tv – something I had not done for perhaps years.  But the sound was so overwhelming now that I was quite annoyed.  I stood carefully, letting my stiff hip joints adjust slowly to the change of position.  Nothing left to do but go up to the thing.   So I moved toward it, only to discover that there were no buttons or knobs at all on it.  No frickin’ way to change the channel on the tv.  Could it be true?  I peered at the edge around the screen.  Nothing.  Then I remembered the cable box and looked over at it.  Lots of cute little lights, but no buttons.  Not even a power button.  How could that be?  I snatched up the remote, held it right up to the tv and pressed the buttons.  Nothing.  Then to the cable box.  Nothing.  Bugger!  So I smacked the cable box smartly, then tried again.  There was a brief sound of static, then a new voice from the tv:

“Please cease your attempts to change the channel.  It has been determined by your government, based on scientific studies, that watching Wheel of Fortune improves your health and well-being.  You are therefore required to watch at least 3 hours of Wheel of Fortune each day.  Resume your seat, and pay attention.”

A bit more static, and the show came back on.  I looked at the remote, looked around at the room, looked at the tv.  One of the new features of my cable subscription?  I’d never really watched Wheel of Fortune before.  Could it be good for my health?  I backed away from the tv slowly, toward the couch.

“And eat your ice cream.”  The voice cut across the game show’s announcer.  I sat down and did as I was told.

Silver Polishing Boot Camp

“Well, dear, I still think you should go.”  My mother scuttled around the kitchen, shifting and rearranging things as she went.  “It will be good for your social standing.”

“Mother,” I said, barely trying to keep the impatience out of my voice.  “I’ve told you a thousand times: knowing how to polish silver will only qualify me to be a servant in some rich person’s house.”

“Every person of quality knows how to polish silver.  Just ask your father.”  She slammed the cabinet door.  “I’ve signed you up. And that’s all there is to it.”

And that’s how I found myself, on this otherwise fine morning, sitting with about 30 other girls in a basement – no, a dungeon – with piles of silver in front of each of us and Attila the Hun, or his close relation, standing in the center of the room bellowing at us.

“All right, you worms!  Get yer polishing cloths ready!  Make sure you’ve plenty of polish, you slackers!”  He shook his fist at a red-head, who cringed.  “Pick ‘em up, damn you!”

We all groped around for the cloths and polish.

“Arrrgh!  Faster!  What d’you think I’m here for, my health?”  He darted over to a weeping brunette, who couldn’t seem to locate her polishing cloth.  “Ya maggot!”  He grabbed her cloth and threw it in her face.  “Now shut off the water works and get to work!”

We started with spoons and forks, and graduated to more complex things like candlesticks as the days went on.  If one of us dropped an item, it was 100 push-ups.  If we didn’t all finish when he thought we should, and pass inspection, it was 100 push-ups from all of us. I never worked so hard in all my life.  But, I have to say, I really developed my arm and chest muscles.

On the last day we had our graduation test: group-polishing a huge silver elephant.  By that time we were like a well-oiled machine, and we finished well under the time specified.  We each got a certificate and our very own batch of silver polish and cloths, and a reference letter for potential employers.

I met my mother outside.

“Oh, dear.”  She hugged me.  “I’m so proud of you.”  She smiled at me for a moment.  “But I have a confession.  I found out – well – I made a mistake.  I thought your father said to send you to silver polishing boot camp, but he actually said pornography publishing boot camp.  So good for your future prospects, you know!  I’ve signed you up for next week.”

Mandy’s Story Starters

1. She knew she would never be the same…

2. I once met a man at an airport lounge…

3. It was the sticky month of August…

4. I picked up the newspaper from the front porch and screamed…

5. I’ve learned many lessons from my dog…

6. He was 15 when he found out…

7. It’s amazing how much a life can change in an instant…

8. Age does funny things to people…

9. Laura watched as the elevator doors opened…

10. A trickle of sweat dripped down my nose as I…

11. The neighbor kids were chasing down the street after the ice cream truck and I…

story starters

The wind blustered and whipped the leaves around in a rising circle with an ominous scratching sound.   I listened mournfully as his bootsteps diminished on the cold sidewalk.

I knew it was a pattern repeating itself when….

The woman I once knew opened her mouth but no discernable sound came out.  I didn’t know how to ask her to repeat or how to ask her what was wrong.  I felt I should have known.  She had been a vivacious woman.  The muscle degeneration had forced her into a wise grandmother overnight.  Only speaking when absolutely necessary and having a sister beside her read out her thoughts at other times.  My deciphering of her sounds improved within a day.

The man beside me filled his airline seat completely.  Solid, he was, with a black baseball cap.  A working man wearing a red shirt which fit tightly around his ample but solid round belly.  Laying flatly and as loud as a broadcast was the gold cross jauntily slanted on his upper chest.  I knew I would ask him of his profession, but not yet.  Hands thick like a butchers rested on his stout knees.  I watched Angels and Demons on my air seat console.

Something prompted me to ask his name.  The body creates it’s own entanglements before reason can engage.

Diana’s Story Starters

The rain had always been her favorite sound, ever since…

The foghorn blast scared the bejeezus out of them, and they froze right in the middle of…

The worm tasted like…

The day of the big race was here and the racers were in place, poised and tense, but when Karen screamed…

Mandy peered through the tiny slit, hoping against hope to find…

Holly had wished for this very thing when she blew out the candles on her eighth birthday, but now that it was here…

The nursery rhyme bounced off the inner walls of his skull…

“Git your gun, Annie,” the Sheriff called, reaching behind him to grab…

If she had known that day that her mother never wore underwear, she never would have…