M. Duda's Blog: The Cryo-Freeze II, page 7
November 28, 2017
Poetic Prose: A Devil's Love
Inspired by Charlotte Perkins Gilman's "The Yellow Wallpaper," this poetic prose sets a tone that hides something darker about the narrator.
In A Devil's Love, an angry lover compares the one who abandoned her to an evil creature. At least, on the surface. She's conflicted, a mood that still longs for the one she once had. It's this conflict that sometimes plays out like a musical rhythm, hinting at a creeping madness and a long time obsession.
Twenty years ago a devil stole my soul. He came to me as a beast and I fell for him. He was sly. I could not see the warts and horns up on his head. He whispered words, I love you, and so I signed a pact. He had promised many luxuries, but it was just a cheap old ring. And on my wedding night, my legs had trembled, I felt his heat, and a momentary desire.
He took my soul and then he left me
Alone, I wait.
I wait.
I wait, I burn in pain, my heart in flames and tortured by his memory.
In A Devil's Love, an angry lover compares the one who abandoned her to an evil creature. At least, on the surface. She's conflicted, a mood that still longs for the one she once had. It's this conflict that sometimes plays out like a musical rhythm, hinting at a creeping madness and a long time obsession.
Twenty years ago a devil stole my soul. He came to me as a beast and I fell for him. He was sly. I could not see the warts and horns up on his head. He whispered words, I love you, and so I signed a pact. He had promised many luxuries, but it was just a cheap old ring. And on my wedding night, my legs had trembled, I felt his heat, and a momentary desire.
He took my soul and then he left me
Alone, I wait.
I wait.
I wait, I burn in pain, my heart in flames and tortured by his memory.
A Devil’s Love
He whispered words, I love you, and so I signed a pact.
November 13, 2017
Story Prompt: A Strangeness in Our Town
The reason I write these prompts is for you, the writer, to be inspired by the narrator in the passage below.
Don’t copy this word for word. (And beside, that’s plagiarism.) Pay attention to the mood of the narrator, observe what he or she sees, feel a kind of tone that is being used. Is this story prompt hinting at a problem to be later solved? How can this prompt inspire ideas with your own work?
I don’t know why it happened, but after Jack “Stiggy” Collins somehow managed to hang himself—and the how it happened will still be argued at Elaine’s Bar and Grill over many, many beers and overcooked chicken wings–from an EZ-In convenience store billboard sign on Baseline Road, my small town of Huntington, Florida seemed to change yesterday.
Stiggy seemed to strain, panting and struggling up the last of the fifty feet before stepping onto the billboard’s safety platform and wiping off sweat from his weathered brow. He looked down and over the small town of Huntington. Since May eighteen, nineteen sixty, the day Stiggy was born to a diabetic mama and a mostly absent daddy—but none of Stiggy’s personal problems ever stopped him from being responsible and safe on the job as he made sure to always let everyone in town know–the place wasn’t really any different than the early days of the Three Coins Diner and Bassmouth Bob’s Quick Shoppe. Only the names had changed, and vinyl artwork sheets were now attached to erect steel frame structures with ratchet assemblies and gripper rods. The days of gluing poster panels over a wood billboard frame were, “Dunzo,” a made-up word that Jimmy Jenkins, Stiggy’s work partner, repeated for the seventh time this week.
Jimmy Jenkins didn’t know much, so he invented words and he fabricated stories, mostly telling them at Elaine’s after work. It was crap and nonsense that never made a point or hit a punchline. “ ’Bout as interesting as Huntington downtown. And nobody wants to go there unless they have to,” Tom Dander would say after dropping two bills on the bar to pay on four Friday drinks before going home to do his husbandly duty.
But yesterday, probably about four pm by my estimate, when Jimmy, who stood off to one side and looking kind of nervous, uttered Bizarrotada while gawking up at Stiggy’s swinging body–and everyone from town gathered around and stood silent-like and Elain was there and she was crying–Jimmy’s made-up word stuck under my skin in a way I can’t explain. It probably stuck under everyone’s skin even though nobody wanted to admit it. Not the outsiders, the Ocala ambulance crew, of course, or the Ocala fire crew that worked to cut the body down: They didn’t even know Stiggy and didn’t care.
But I had known him. To see him now staring down at me with empty, open eyes as if he tried to tell me (but couldn’t) that he hadn’t been irresponsible, that it had all been a freak accident or it had been foul play or it had been nothing at all–well, Bizarrotada.
Don’t copy this word for word. (And beside, that’s plagiarism.) Pay attention to the mood of the narrator, observe what he or she sees, feel a kind of tone that is being used. Is this story prompt hinting at a problem to be later solved? How can this prompt inspire ideas with your own work?
I don’t know why it happened, but after Jack “Stiggy” Collins somehow managed to hang himself—and the how it happened will still be argued at Elaine’s Bar and Grill over many, many beers and overcooked chicken wings–from an EZ-In convenience store billboard sign on Baseline Road, my small town of Huntington, Florida seemed to change yesterday.
Stiggy seemed to strain, panting and struggling up the last of the fifty feet before stepping onto the billboard’s safety platform and wiping off sweat from his weathered brow. He looked down and over the small town of Huntington. Since May eighteen, nineteen sixty, the day Stiggy was born to a diabetic mama and a mostly absent daddy—but none of Stiggy’s personal problems ever stopped him from being responsible and safe on the job as he made sure to always let everyone in town know–the place wasn’t really any different than the early days of the Three Coins Diner and Bassmouth Bob’s Quick Shoppe. Only the names had changed, and vinyl artwork sheets were now attached to erect steel frame structures with ratchet assemblies and gripper rods. The days of gluing poster panels over a wood billboard frame were, “Dunzo,” a made-up word that Jimmy Jenkins, Stiggy’s work partner, repeated for the seventh time this week.
Jimmy Jenkins didn’t know much, so he invented words and he fabricated stories, mostly telling them at Elaine’s after work. It was crap and nonsense that never made a point or hit a punchline. “ ’Bout as interesting as Huntington downtown. And nobody wants to go there unless they have to,” Tom Dander would say after dropping two bills on the bar to pay on four Friday drinks before going home to do his husbandly duty.
But yesterday, probably about four pm by my estimate, when Jimmy, who stood off to one side and looking kind of nervous, uttered Bizarrotada while gawking up at Stiggy’s swinging body–and everyone from town gathered around and stood silent-like and Elain was there and she was crying–Jimmy’s made-up word stuck under my skin in a way I can’t explain. It probably stuck under everyone’s skin even though nobody wanted to admit it. Not the outsiders, the Ocala ambulance crew, of course, or the Ocala fire crew that worked to cut the body down: They didn’t even know Stiggy and didn’t care.
But I had known him. To see him now staring down at me with empty, open eyes as if he tried to tell me (but couldn’t) that he hadn’t been irresponsible, that it had all been a freak accident or it had been foul play or it had been nothing at all–well, Bizarrotada.
Story Prompt: A Strangeness in Town
Pay attention to the mood of the narrator, observe what he or she sees, feel a kind of tone that is being used. Is this story prompt hinting at a problem to be later solved?
November 1, 2017
Grim’s Giveaway
Five lucky winners will receive a print copy of Deny the Father. Good luck!
October 18, 2017
Writing Prompt: Torn Between Love and Desire
He undid the top button of his custom dress shirt. “No kids.”
Sharon rested her head against his chest, her hands toying at his soft qiviuq wool suit. It must of cost a fortune, and she wondered how he could afford such things. Not that I’m complaining, she told him.
Todd, who stood at least four inches taller than her, looked down with brown eyes that seemed to smile at her.
Or was he laughing at her?
And then his strong fingers worked around her back to the bra strap.
“No kids,” she repeated. Two simple words for someone with no strings attached.
She knew that Todd only understood sex, but he did it so well. But he had never made it past the naked and passionate phase. Afterward, there was birth, dirty diapers, late night feedings and catching a short nap after you think the baby is satisfied from a messy feeding and an even messier burping.
“I’m just a toy, aren’t I?”
He pulled her closer, kissing Sharon softly and looking into her eyes. For a moment, she only saw Johnny reflected back. He must be working a double shift.
But, oh God! Todd’s hands.
Sharon tried to shut out thoughts of back home.
Sharon rested her head against his chest, her hands toying at his soft qiviuq wool suit. It must of cost a fortune, and she wondered how he could afford such things. Not that I’m complaining, she told him.
Todd, who stood at least four inches taller than her, looked down with brown eyes that seemed to smile at her.
Or was he laughing at her?
And then his strong fingers worked around her back to the bra strap.
“No kids,” she repeated. Two simple words for someone with no strings attached.
She knew that Todd only understood sex, but he did it so well. But he had never made it past the naked and passionate phase. Afterward, there was birth, dirty diapers, late night feedings and catching a short nap after you think the baby is satisfied from a messy feeding and an even messier burping.
“I’m just a toy, aren’t I?”
He pulled her closer, kissing Sharon softly and looking into her eyes. For a moment, she only saw Johnny reflected back. He must be working a double shift.
But, oh God! Todd’s hands.
Sharon tried to shut out thoughts of back home.
Story Prompt: Torn Between Love and Desire
She knew that Todd only understood sex, but he did it so well. But he had never made it past the naked and passionate phase.
September 20, 2017
Dear Unfortunate: A Warning
But next week, I'll treat someone to a graceless presence. Better hope that I don't spill a coffee on your food tray, dear unfortunate fellow passenger.
September 13, 2017
What HBO’s Arya Stark Taught Me Not to Do
Character complexity is the single statement made about a character that drives a story. To do this well, an author must be honest about the major players.
HBO’s Arya Stark Taught Me Something
And Walder Frey, for that matter.
Character complexity isn’t all that difficult to recognize, but it can be a real ass pain to write. It’s the story element that generates conflicts with others. Positive and negative traits help us to understand why he or she chooses to solve problems in particular ways when they arise. (And with all good drama, problems happen again and again.) Character complexity revs an engine, driving the story forward. To do this well, an author must be honest about the major players.
This takes time to develop. But if you just want to crank out a story, you can overlook this thoughtful nuisance.
Strip away a character’s complexity and the reader or viewer is left only with actions without consequences, readers’ assumptions and plot devices. It’s as if a mental dimension vanishes, and it treats the audience as nothing more than mindless puppets. HBO’s Game of Thrones Season Six does exactly this: By supersizing some character’s strengths, ignoring the flaws, and stuffing each episode full of Deus ex machina and red herrings, I began to feel like I was watching a crummy, late-night 1950’s Western.
Stick Your Fingers In
So, I’ll grab my three-dimensional puppets and make them play for you.
Arya Stark is bold, free-spirited. (There’s certainly more to her than this single positive trait, but I’m trying to keep this post brief.) While this quality certainly makes us like the character, it also works against her in context of the story world. Her sister, Sansa, practices the noble skills of being a “proper” lady under the scolding eye of Septa Mordane. But Arya finds this all boring and silly. Not only does she frequently antagonize Sansa and the Septa, but her audacious behavior eventually sinks the young girl into deeper problems when she encounters more deadly antagonists.
Walder Frey and treachery meld together in a heavy-handed way. By delaying his troop deployments, he always ends up on the ill-gotten side of winning. Sure, he gains something for this untrustworthy behavior. And it’s obvious that his army serves only to protect Walder’s interests, not the Kingdom’s. But there are several lords who take issue with this unreliable behavior, and they probably secretly wish to put the man’s head on a spike.
Then, Poof!
HBO had managed to keep the characters moving along reasonably well up to and through Season Five. The stories deviate from the books, but I can mostly stomach this discomfort. Then Season Six happens and everything vanishes in smoke. We’re left with stylish effects. The characters fall flat and only devices drag their carcasses behind an action-packed production train.
Remember the movie Rocky? After a montage of training in the Temple of the Many-Faced God, all Arya is capable of is kicking ass without the final boxing defeat that Balboa suffers. Perhaps this is the greatest reason I really enjoy Rocky: despite losing the championship, he never gives up on his inner determination as he’s willing to take a brutal beating for fifteen rounds and still remain standing. Rocky’s positive trait takes on a new and better meaning when he yells out for Adrian, the person that really matters most.
But Arya’s good quality has morphed into something dull and ugly: anger. She’s more like two hours of Rambo III but with an elastic face. The girl now exists as a faceless killing machine (There’s some irony for you!) and we’re supposed to believe that a persistent hatred is a good trait.
I predict that some driveling speech at “The End” about how Westeros is a better place will somehow fix this character flaw. Technically, she’s becoming a serial killer, a villain. But the ends justify the means, after all. But it seems like a lie. A fresh face will reign, and just like all the previous rulers, murder and bloodshed helps plop a new tush on an uncomfortable throne. And life goes on for the Westeros small folk who never had to worry about slavery but must still be subjugated to yet another monarchy. No, Arya, you’re still just a rubber-faced cartoon.
Pulling Out the Final Pin
And speaking of surprises, do you like the abrupt murder of Walder Frey?
In context of everything that happens, it would be far more satisfying and believable to have seen Jamie Lannister eventually turn on Walder and take The Twins for himself. Walder’s treachery causes problems with the other lords who also have large armies. In raw terms of power, these are the Frey antagonists that matter. Arya is a small side effect.
But somehow Arya possesses a god-like power that allows her to kill off the Freys and murder cranky Walder. The event just happens, and we have to assume the rest. Will she bake another people pie for her next victim? The viewer can only expect to be mildly surprised by some newly devised way of how she’ll torture again.
And everything that came before this event is pointless: All it took was one blood-thirsty child to do him in. Why did Walder even exist? Why do the historical power struggles even matter when it can all so easily be solved with a melting face? Why should Daenerys bother to raise an army? The Dragon lineage has nothing over Arya.
There’s more. The pin is pulled and the structure collapses. It’s just action and devices, now.
Sansa Stark suddenly appears with Baelish’s calvary overnight. (Remember those 1950’s Westerns?) Forget that she told Pyter to fuck himself, earlier. A change of heart? A deal with the devil to help a loved one? Assume. Assume. And how was such a large force organized overnight? I seem to recall Sansa later muttering some brief nonsense to explain something. And Tyrion Lannister is now boring to watch. Boring!
Yep, this story has collapsed.
HBO jerked the viewers out of a deeper story by offering us Season Six. Style glosses over substance. I’m not up-to-date with the show, but I won’t catch up and watch Season Seven. I’m done with the series for good. I had given it a second chance, but my joy once again turned to ashes. I’ll wait for more A Song of Ice and Fire books to release. And go back to my writing. But I won’t jerk readers around.
Character complexity isn’t all that difficult to recognize, but it can be a real ass pain to write. It’s the story element that generates conflicts with others. Positive and negative traits help us to understand why he or she chooses to solve problems in particular ways when they arise. (And with all good drama, problems happen again and again.) Character complexity revs an engine, driving the story forward. To do this well, an author must be honest about the major players.
This takes time to develop. But if you just want to crank out a story, you can overlook this thoughtful nuisance.
Strip away a character’s complexity and the reader or viewer is left only with actions without consequences, readers’ assumptions and plot devices. It’s as if a mental dimension vanishes, and it treats the audience as nothing more than mindless puppets. HBO’s Game of Thrones Season Six does exactly this: By supersizing some character’s strengths, ignoring the flaws, and stuffing each episode full of Deus ex machina and red herrings, I began to feel like I was watching a crummy, late-night 1950’s Western.
Stick Your Fingers In
So, I’ll grab my three-dimensional puppets and make them play for you.
Arya Stark is bold, free-spirited. (There’s certainly more to her than this single positive trait, but I’m trying to keep this post brief.) While this quality certainly makes us like the character, it also works against her in context of the story world. Her sister, Sansa, practices the noble skills of being a “proper” lady under the scolding eye of Septa Mordane. But Arya finds this all boring and silly. Not only does she frequently antagonize Sansa and the Septa, but her audacious behavior eventually sinks the young girl into deeper problems when she encounters more deadly antagonists.
Walder Frey and treachery meld together in a heavy-handed way. By delaying his troop deployments, he always ends up on the ill-gotten side of winning. Sure, he gains something for this untrustworthy behavior. And it’s obvious that his army serves only to protect Walder’s interests, not the Kingdom’s. But there are several lords who take issue with this unreliable behavior, and they probably secretly wish to put the man’s head on a spike.
Then, Poof!
HBO had managed to keep the characters moving along reasonably well up to and through Season Five. The stories deviate from the books, but I can mostly stomach this discomfort. Then Season Six happens and everything vanishes in smoke. We’re left with stylish effects. The characters fall flat and only devices drag their carcasses behind an action-packed production train.
Remember the movie Rocky? After a montage of training in the Temple of the Many-Faced God, all Arya is capable of is kicking ass without the final boxing defeat that Balboa suffers. Perhaps this is the greatest reason I really enjoy Rocky: despite losing the championship, he never gives up on his inner determination as he’s willing to take a brutal beating for fifteen rounds and still remain standing. Rocky’s positive trait takes on a new and better meaning when he yells out for Adrian, the person that really matters most.
But Arya’s good quality has morphed into something dull and ugly: anger. She’s more like two hours of Rambo III but with an elastic face. The girl now exists as a faceless killing machine (There’s some irony for you!) and we’re supposed to believe that a persistent hatred is a good trait.
I predict that some driveling speech at “The End” about how Westeros is a better place will somehow fix this character flaw. Technically, she’s becoming a serial killer, a villain. But the ends justify the means, after all. But it seems like a lie. A fresh face will reign, and just like all the previous rulers, murder and bloodshed helps plop a new tush on an uncomfortable throne. And life goes on for the Westeros small folk who never had to worry about slavery but must still be subjugated to yet another monarchy. No, Arya, you’re still just a rubber-faced cartoon.
Pulling Out the Final Pin
And speaking of surprises, do you like the abrupt murder of Walder Frey?
In context of everything that happens, it would be far more satisfying and believable to have seen Jamie Lannister eventually turn on Walder and take The Twins for himself. Walder’s treachery causes problems with the other lords who also have large armies. In raw terms of power, these are the Frey antagonists that matter. Arya is a small side effect.
But somehow Arya possesses a god-like power that allows her to kill off the Freys and murder cranky Walder. The event just happens, and we have to assume the rest. Will she bake another people pie for her next victim? The viewer can only expect to be mildly surprised by some newly devised way of how she’ll torture again.
And everything that came before this event is pointless: All it took was one blood-thirsty child to do him in. Why did Walder even exist? Why do the historical power struggles even matter when it can all so easily be solved with a melting face? Why should Daenerys bother to raise an army? The Dragon lineage has nothing over Arya.
There’s more. The pin is pulled and the structure collapses. It’s just action and devices, now.
Sansa Stark suddenly appears with Baelish’s calvary overnight. (Remember those 1950’s Westerns?) Forget that she told Pyter to fuck himself, earlier. A change of heart? A deal with the devil to help a loved one? Assume. Assume. And how was such a large force organized overnight? I seem to recall Sansa later muttering some brief nonsense to explain something. And Tyrion Lannister is now boring to watch. Boring!
Yep, this story has collapsed.
HBO jerked the viewers out of a deeper story by offering us Season Six. Style glosses over substance. I’m not up-to-date with the show, but I won’t catch up and watch Season Seven. I’m done with the series for good. I had given it a second chance, but my joy once again turned to ashes. I’ll wait for more A Song of Ice and Fire books to release. And go back to my writing. But I won’t jerk readers around.
The Cryo-Freeze II
Michael is the author of several collections of short stories. Under pen name M. Duda, his titles include We Dream at Twilight and Whispers from the Grave.
His most recent story "The Sound of Blue" w ...more
His most recent story "The Sound of Blue" w ...more
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