Gabe Redel's Blog: FRYING POTATOES BLOG, page 9
January 23, 2016
On Paper
We sat with smokes in our lips.
A guitar leaned in the corner
by the TV, against the purple drapes
that blew in the storms.
We put ourselves on paper.
I went on in words.
My friend sketched shapes into pictures.
His dad would sit with us;
a book in his hand
and miles of philosophical thoughts to share.
We would talk about ideas
that continued to more ideas
that flooded into work.
Those days were the dream days.
We were young.
We had art.
We had time to waste.
by Gabe Redel
A guitar leaned in the corner
by the TV, against the purple drapes
that blew in the storms.
We put ourselves on paper.
I went on in words.
My friend sketched shapes into pictures.
His dad would sit with us;
a book in his hand
and miles of philosophical thoughts to share.
We would talk about ideas
that continued to more ideas
that flooded into work.
Those days were the dream days.
We were young.
We had art.
We had time to waste.
by Gabe Redel
January 22, 2016
Battle City
This city
cowers under sky-high stone walls.
Behind the stones
up by the clouds
are men
who curse
and spit bullets from their mouths.
The walls
do not protect the men
from the weaponized disease
the women bubble up from their hearts.
The bullets blow holes through bone.
Disease rots flesh from the inside out.
The city is dark.
The symbols of hardened minds,
violence, and fear
are painted on its face.
Two mice
eat cheese in the alley corner.
They offer the cheese to the cat.
by Gabe Redel
cowers under sky-high stone walls.
Behind the stones
up by the clouds
are men
who curse
and spit bullets from their mouths.
The walls
do not protect the men
from the weaponized disease
the women bubble up from their hearts.
The bullets blow holes through bone.
Disease rots flesh from the inside out.
The city is dark.
The symbols of hardened minds,
violence, and fear
are painted on its face.
Two mice
eat cheese in the alley corner.
They offer the cheese to the cat.
by Gabe Redel
My Game
My mini-tablet was where it had always been.
I pulled it off the dock
and slid my finger across its face.
Oil was sticking to the glass in clouds.
I was in bed, so I used my comforter to wipe it clean.
A little square among all the other little squares.
I tapped it and up came a game, bright colors
and action.
I watched the screen.
The little villagers raced around the buildings.
I thought about my next strategic move.
The sadness was far behind me.
by Gabe Redel
I pulled it off the dock
and slid my finger across its face.
Oil was sticking to the glass in clouds.
I was in bed, so I used my comforter to wipe it clean.
A little square among all the other little squares.
I tapped it and up came a game, bright colors
and action.
I watched the screen.
The little villagers raced around the buildings.
I thought about my next strategic move.
The sadness was far behind me.
by Gabe Redel
It All Comes from the Same Place
This poem is about pride.
It isn’t about whether pride
is right or wrong.
It is simply about what pride is.
You may think that you already know
the answer.
You may think
this poem will be a waste of your time.
Don’t think that.
Keep reading.
Pride is having a deep satisfaction
in the things you’ve accomplished
or in the things you own.
Without those things,
you would feel less confident,
less happy, or less of a person
than what you feel with them.
Pride is believing you are great.
But what if you believe
the opposite?
What if your final thoughts
in the night are about
how you believe that
you are a loser, a failure, a nobody?
Isn’t that pride as well?
. . .
by Gabe Redel
It isn’t about whether pride
is right or wrong.
It is simply about what pride is.
You may think that you already know
the answer.
You may think
this poem will be a waste of your time.
Don’t think that.
Keep reading.
Pride is having a deep satisfaction
in the things you’ve accomplished
or in the things you own.
Without those things,
you would feel less confident,
less happy, or less of a person
than what you feel with them.
Pride is believing you are great.
But what if you believe
the opposite?
What if your final thoughts
in the night are about
how you believe that
you are a loser, a failure, a nobody?
Isn’t that pride as well?
. . .
by Gabe Redel
The Devil in our Stomach
We all have a devil
in the pit of our stomach.
We feed him
and we feed him
until he gets really big
and grows long sharp teeth
and becomes super intelligent.
We keep him there
in the pit of our stomach
and we are happy to have him
prowling around with us.
When we get mad
we hang out with him.
We lean against his cage
and grit our teeth
and toy with the key to his lock.
He rubs his hands together
and licks his lips.
His red skin and the blood in his eyes
glisten like raw meat.
Then we let our minds wander
and dream about the day
that we could unleash him from his cage.
He would be red hot mad
and tear the ones who’ve crossed us
into itty-bitty pieces.
But we don’t. We stop ourselves
until the right day comes
at just the right time
and then that devil, long after
we have forgotten all about our anger,
reaches into our pocket
and slips out the key . . .
by Gabe Redel
in the pit of our stomach.
We feed him
and we feed him
until he gets really big
and grows long sharp teeth
and becomes super intelligent.
We keep him there
in the pit of our stomach
and we are happy to have him
prowling around with us.
When we get mad
we hang out with him.
We lean against his cage
and grit our teeth
and toy with the key to his lock.
He rubs his hands together
and licks his lips.
His red skin and the blood in his eyes
glisten like raw meat.
Then we let our minds wander
and dream about the day
that we could unleash him from his cage.
He would be red hot mad
and tear the ones who’ve crossed us
into itty-bitty pieces.
But we don’t. We stop ourselves
until the right day comes
at just the right time
and then that devil, long after
we have forgotten all about our anger,
reaches into our pocket
and slips out the key . . .
by Gabe Redel
Dead Robot
Standing behind this machine
burns the highest points of my face.
The peach fuzz on my cheek bones
has left as smoke, much like the smoke
that rises from the over-worked pistons.
Heat, fury, fire spill around my teeth,
muttering shouts from balled fists.
Skeletons of dried robots hang on the wall,
once prizes, once diamonds, once the only love in life.
I have to protect my eyes
to keep the fire from damaging them further
than what the beating arms
of the machines have already done.
The last parts drop. Slowly, they roll over the ramp
and stick against the drill as if they were
the black oil that goops in the corners.
I’ve had breakdowns, many breakdowns.
My interest in the work has dropped
and all I yearn for is home, a hug
from something other than cut hands.
They tell me that once you’ve come to this place you don’t leave.
They make it sound like a horror story.
I feel the mutilation behind the metal guard.
I lower my head as every man, broken man, has done,
and I search in the dark of my mind
for the power switch to turn on a light.
What I’ve been waiting for
is on the other side of the wall where the dead robots hang.
A bedroom with open windows
welcomes the cool breeze.
by Gabe Redel
burns the highest points of my face.
The peach fuzz on my cheek bones
has left as smoke, much like the smoke
that rises from the over-worked pistons.
Heat, fury, fire spill around my teeth,
muttering shouts from balled fists.
Skeletons of dried robots hang on the wall,
once prizes, once diamonds, once the only love in life.
I have to protect my eyes
to keep the fire from damaging them further
than what the beating arms
of the machines have already done.
The last parts drop. Slowly, they roll over the ramp
and stick against the drill as if they were
the black oil that goops in the corners.
I’ve had breakdowns, many breakdowns.
My interest in the work has dropped
and all I yearn for is home, a hug
from something other than cut hands.
They tell me that once you’ve come to this place you don’t leave.
They make it sound like a horror story.
I feel the mutilation behind the metal guard.
I lower my head as every man, broken man, has done,
and I search in the dark of my mind
for the power switch to turn on a light.
What I’ve been waiting for
is on the other side of the wall where the dead robots hang.
A bedroom with open windows
welcomes the cool breeze.
by Gabe Redel
December 29, 2015
The Guy Who Gets Killed
Author's Note: This short story is from a collection of short stories titled, "The Guy Who Gets Killed Series." Each story in the series is about the guy in the story who is about to die. Usually that guy is just a small character because he or she is going to die anyways. Not anymore! The series aims to give the guy who has to die his time in the spotlight. This suspense short story is the cover story of the series, appropriately titled:
"The Guy Who Gets Killed"
by Gabe Redel
Brent smashed into Aiden with his shoulder so that he could get through the door before the dogs snagged his leg and tore him to pieces. Stevie slammed the door.
Aiden had a worried look on his face. He rubbed his shoulder because he had banged it against the wall when Brent rammed into the back of him. Brent stood up and immediately yelled at Aiden for blocking the door on him.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Block the door so I couldn’t run in. Those dogs almost got me.”
“I didn’t mean to, I swear.” Aiden’s eyes were large and worried.
Brent just shook his head and muttered something unpleasant. He grabbed the door handle and tried opening it, but it was locked. The room had no windows either and the door was solid.
“So what are we going to do now?” Brent ask, trying to control his temper.
“How should I know? You’re the great leader of the group,” Aiden said.
“Shut up, Aiden. We wouldn’t be trapped in this room if you hadn’t let those dogs loose. What were you thinking!”
“Guys, stop yelling.” Stevie got between them to hold them off of each other. Brent listened to her, because she was his girlfriend. She put her hand on his chest and said, “he’s still out there. We are still his targets, and we will never escape if we keep acting like this.”
“Yeah, he searches for hate. He can feel it, so stop yelling at each other,” Carrie said.
“That isn’t true and I’ll never believe it.” Brent shook his head. “This isn’t some ghost that’s chasing us. It hasn’t come up from the grave like some spirit. It’s a guy in a costume. That’s all it is. No, that’s all he is! He invited us here to this freak-mansion so he could play his games, and now he’s tormenting us for his sick fun. That’s all. I say we beat him at his own game. I say we torture him back.”
“Some game, Brent. Eddie’s gone. He might be dead.” Carrie’s voice shook as she tried not to cry.
“Yeah, so maybe we should kill him.” Brent thought about it. Then he said, “But Eddie isn’t dead. Don’t you ever say that!” At this point, Brent was growling though his teeth he was so angry. He tightened his jaw and searched the bedroom for something to smash. The wall was next to him, so he kicked it. A few pieces of plaster broke loose and shattered on the hard wood floor.
“We can’t kill it if it’s already dead.” Aiden said, but Brent paid no attention to him. That made Aiden mad. This time he yelled at him, but Brent continued to turn away. With that, Aiden lost control. He ran up behind him and punched him hard in the back of the head. Brent’s head snapped forward, but that did little to impress the muscled-up man. Brent retaliated quickly by swinging around with a back fist that drove into the side of Aiden’s mouth. He was sent spinning away, blood spilling from his lips, but Brent had no intentions of leaving it at that. He took a long stride toward him, winded up his rear leg like he were about to kick a soccer ball, and took both of Aiden’s legs out from under him with one giant sweep. Aiden’s feet snapped out from under him. The back of his head bounced off the wood floor while the rest of him folded over his chest. Brent was about to put a few more blows into his face until one of the girls intervened.
“Brent, stop! You hurt him.” Carrie ran to Aiden’s aid.
Brent rolled his eyes. He did his best to ignore the fact that Carrie felt sorry for Aiden when it was Aiden who had attacked him first. It wasn’t his fault that Aiden was small and scrawny and couldn’t take a punch, or throw one for that matter. He laughed through his nose before he brought up the subject at hand once again. “He can be killed, because he is human. And if he feels hate, then he can take these and shove ’em were he can feel them the most.” He held up both middle fingers at the door that had locked them in.
Aiden staggered to his feet. A serious look of hatred was bent into his face.
“If he is only human, then how does he disappear like that?” Stevie asked. She did her best to say it as calm as she could so that she wouldn’t get the guys anymore riled up. “I see more than a guy in a costume, Brent. I see a spirit who is more powerful than all of us together.”
Brent spit from his lips and waved off her comment.
“It isn’t human,” she said again, still calm. “It can’t be. I felt it. It felt like it wanted to burn me up from the inside out. It felt like . . . I don’t know. It was evil. That’s all I can say.”
“I believe you, Stevie. I’ve never seen something that big disappear like that before,” Aiden said. He was still breathing heavily and his voice had grown hoarse.
“Whatever it is, I’m still going to try and kill it,” Brent pounded his fist into his hand. He had a far-off look in his eyes. “And nobody is changing my mind. It’s dead, and that’s final.” He looked around the room and saw a sturdy looking wooden rocking chair in the corner. For what he wanted to do with it, it would work perfectly. He picked it up with both hands and raised it over his head. Aiden nearly fell backwards because he thought Brent was going to smash him with it, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a running start and threw it at the wall as hard as he could. He grunted like a pig as the chair smashed through the brittle plaster.
Everybody’s eyes lit up at the gaping hole the chair had put in the wall. They were free, but they all first listened for dogs. None of them were there. Aiden peeked through the hole. He could see that it opened a pathway to a completely different part of the mansion. One they had never been in before. He stepped through and the others followed.
The hallway glowed with the fire of candles that hung on hooks. Their orange flames flickered off the red paint. Strange figures of tortured men lined the walls like trees in a forest. Some were gigantic statues that reached the ceiling while others were only figurines. The ceiling of the hallway was tall, more than fifteen feet. Some of the statues almost looked like they were made from real human body parts. Others were holding weapons and dressed in full armor. Aiden took hold of one of the smaller ones that was on a shelf. It was made of stone and it was heavy. He held it in his hand like a club. “Here, Brent,” he said. “You can kill it with this.”
Brent wondered why Aiden had suddenly changed his attitude toward him, so he questioned, “Why don’t you keep it? Do you want me dead or something?”
“What, no. If I wanted you dead, why would I hand you something to protect yourself?”
“You said that you believed Stevie. You believe that this thing isn’t human and that it sees hatred. You want me full of hate so it attacks me? Is that what you’re doing?”
“What?” Aiden asked, trying to sound innocent, but he wasn’t a very good actor. Everybody could tell by the sound of his voice that something wasn’t right.
“Don’t lie to me, bro.” Brent raised the stone figure in his hand in a threatening manner.
“Brent, no way, man.” He put his hands up and waved them to try and calm him down. “I want all of us to get out of this alive.” He wiped a patch of blood from his lip. “I don’t want anybody dead. I’m not a murderer.”
But Brent didn’t listen. He took steps in Aiden’s direction.
“Brent, stop!” Carrie yelled.
“Brent!” Stevie yelled, and that got him to stop.
“No, I’m not going to kill the little worm, but I’m definitely not going to trust him.” He set the statue down where it had been and turned to lead them through the hallway. Aiden followed along, but he was so nerve-wracked from the incident that his lungs were vibrating. He was shocked that Brent had caught on to him. The next time he tried to get Brent killed, he had better be more discrete about it.
Their trek continued. The smell of rotten wood permeated the air. The hallways only led to more hallways. Not one of them had ever been to this part of the mansion before, and because there were no windows, they didn’t know if they were in the basement or in the attic. The place was huge, and it seemed to them as if they were in a labyrinth that only led them deeper into captivity.
“Shhh, did you hear that?” Stevie asked.
They all stopped. Carrie turned her candle in Stevie’s direction. “What?”
“Shhh, that.”
Aiden took a deep breath. “It sounds like mumbling.”
The mumbling was soft, but it was definitely there. It almost sounded like a wizard was chanting incantations.
“Oh, no, man, what is that?” Aiden started to shake he was so scared.
“Where is it coming from?” Carrie whispered.
“Here.” Brent pointed to a giant painting that was hanging on the wall. The painting was of a tree and moon, and under the tree was five different colored flames. He grabbed the thick wood frame of the painting and tried removing it, but it wouldn’t budge. Then the mumbling grew louder, and that gave them a better understanding of where it was coming from.
“Look!” Carrie said, “on the ceiling!” She raised her candle up as high as it would go. “Something is moving around on the ceiling.”
“That isn’t something. A person is tied up there.” Brent gazed at the man hanging in a ball of ropes.
“It might be Eddie,” Stevie said.
With the sound of his name, Eddie began twisting and mumbling as hard as he could to get them to come get him. He was all wrapped up in ropes like a mummy and hanging from a large ring that was attached to the ceiling.
For most of the group, the hope that Eddie was still alive was welcomed, but Aiden didn’t feel the same. He had hoped that Eddie had died. It wasn’t that Aiden disliked Eddie in any way. It was because Aiden knew that someone had to die first. This spirit, this thing that was chasing them, he was certain that it would kill one of them. And he believed as the outcast of the group that the odds were highly in his favor to die first. That’s why he had been trying to get Brent killed. If Brent died, maybe he wouldn’t.
“Damn,” Aiden whispered to himself.
“What?” Carrie had heard him.
“Oh, uh, climb up the painting to get onto that statue. You could probably reach him from up there.” The statue that was next to them was a massive Scandinavian warrior dressed in metal and holding an axe that stood over twelve feet tall. It nearly reached the ceiling.
Brent nodded and took hold of one of the human figures carved into the wood of the frame.
“Eddie!” Stevie cried with joy. “Hold on. We’ll get you down.”
Brent stepped foot onto the large arm of the warrior and then climbed the rest of the way up from there. He sat on the statue’s shoulders and stretched out as far as he could to try and reach his friend that hung precariously from the ceiling. He could just barely reach far enough out to push him and make him swing. Once he had him swinging back and forth, he was able to grab the ropes and hold him in place. Then he slipped out his pocket knife and cut him free.
Within minutes, Eddie’s arms were untied. He removed the ropes from his face and saw Brent for the first time.
“Brent!” he said with great enthusiasm. “Bro, get me down, bro!”
“Pull yourself to me.”
He did, and Brent cut him out the rest of the way and eased him onto the statue. They climbed down together and fell to the ground. They rolled over the top of each other while they laughed and cheered and patted each other’s backs as they hugged. The girls jumped on top to join in. As they cheered, Aiden stood back and watched the statue that was standing over the top of them come to life. First, an arm began to move. Then the weapon that it was holding, the giant axe, lowered. Aiden could see that it was aimed to drop and cut all four of them in half.
“Hey!” He yelled for their attention, but then the axe stopped moving. He saw that it had gotten caught on a piece of armor on the statue’s leg. He saw that all he had to do was bump the statue to knock it loose and then the blade would drop and sever them in half, but first he wanted to get everybody out of the way except for Brent. So he ran up to them and began pulling them up one by one while pretending to take part in their celebration. He first got the two girls up. He made sure Stevie was the farthest away. Then he jumped on Eddie and pulled him up.
Nervously, he said, “Eddie, I missed you so much!” Aiden hugged him around the body and slung him wildly so that he would bump into the statue and knock the axe loose. It worked, and nobody suspected a thing because they were blinded by their own joy.
The axe was free and lowering slowly once again, but then it stopped. Aiden watched it wondering why it wasn’t killing the man that he hated with everything in his heart. He cursed to himself because he wanted Brent dead and the axe wasn’t going to do it, but then something in the statue clicked. The group froze. Brent was still lying on the floor. He was erect on his elbows and listening carefully. “What was that?” he asked.
“I don’t . . . ,” and that was all Aiden could say before the floor gave way. The two girls, Eddie, and Aiden jumped back in time, but Brent was swallowed up. And to make Aiden even happier, the axe then followed along with the floor. It dropped too, slicing down into the hole that Brent had fallen into. They heard him scream and then nothing.
Eddie was the first to jump toward the hole to try and save his friend. The girls were next, but Aiden stayed back so that he could revel in the moment. A sleek smile was spread tight across his lips and a hard stare was over his brow. He gloated to himself while having corrupt thoughts of victory flooding his mind.
The two girls were beside themselves in terror and sorrow.
“Eddie, do something!” Stevie cried over her crush.
“I can’t see anything. It’s too dark.”
“How far down is it?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie slid deeper into the hole. Aiden searched the room for some other boobie-trap to let loose, but there was nothing. Then he searched for another excuse to try and kill Eddie without making it seem like he did it on purpose. If Eddie died too, his chances of survival would surely increase, because in stories like these, one man and one woman were always destine to make it out alive. And Aiden desperately wanted that man and woman to be him and Stevie. He loved Stevie with every ounce of flesh in his body.
“Stevie,” he said, “come stand by me and let me hold you so you don’t get hurt.” She glanced back, but didn’t respond to Aiden’s call.
“Brent!” Carrie screamed into the hole. “Brent, say something. Eddie, where is he?”
“I don’t know. Give me that candle.” But then Eddie began to scream as he too was slowly getting dragged deeper into the hole.
“Eddie!” Carrie jumped on his legs to try to stop him.
Aiden sat back watching anxiously. It looked as if he wouldn’t have to try and kill Eddie after all, because Eddie was about to kill himself.
But Eddie’s screams soon turned into shouts of joy when he learned that the thing dragging him into the hole was Brent using him to climb out. Brent popped up and pulled Eddie to his feet. As soon as Aiden saw that Brent was still alive, he knew that he was in trouble.
“Man, I hate that guy,” he whispered just before a large blade slammed into his back. The front of the blade broke through his chest. He twitched and gagged on his own blood. Then his feet began to smoke like an acid had been spilled over them.
The group spun around and saw that the floor under Aiden’s feet was now glowing red-hot. Flames rose over his body, burning his flesh black. Other than his screams of agony, his last words were, “I knew it would be me.”
The group was terrified. They wanted to help him, but the spirit that had been chasing them through this horrible mansion, making their nightmares come to life, was hovering above the flames. They took off running as fast as they could.
"The Guy Who Gets Killed"
by Gabe Redel
Brent smashed into Aiden with his shoulder so that he could get through the door before the dogs snagged his leg and tore him to pieces. Stevie slammed the door.
Aiden had a worried look on his face. He rubbed his shoulder because he had banged it against the wall when Brent rammed into the back of him. Brent stood up and immediately yelled at Aiden for blocking the door on him.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Block the door so I couldn’t run in. Those dogs almost got me.”
“I didn’t mean to, I swear.” Aiden’s eyes were large and worried.
Brent just shook his head and muttered something unpleasant. He grabbed the door handle and tried opening it, but it was locked. The room had no windows either and the door was solid.
“So what are we going to do now?” Brent ask, trying to control his temper.
“How should I know? You’re the great leader of the group,” Aiden said.
“Shut up, Aiden. We wouldn’t be trapped in this room if you hadn’t let those dogs loose. What were you thinking!”
“Guys, stop yelling.” Stevie got between them to hold them off of each other. Brent listened to her, because she was his girlfriend. She put her hand on his chest and said, “he’s still out there. We are still his targets, and we will never escape if we keep acting like this.”
“Yeah, he searches for hate. He can feel it, so stop yelling at each other,” Carrie said.
“That isn’t true and I’ll never believe it.” Brent shook his head. “This isn’t some ghost that’s chasing us. It hasn’t come up from the grave like some spirit. It’s a guy in a costume. That’s all it is. No, that’s all he is! He invited us here to this freak-mansion so he could play his games, and now he’s tormenting us for his sick fun. That’s all. I say we beat him at his own game. I say we torture him back.”
“Some game, Brent. Eddie’s gone. He might be dead.” Carrie’s voice shook as she tried not to cry.
“Yeah, so maybe we should kill him.” Brent thought about it. Then he said, “But Eddie isn’t dead. Don’t you ever say that!” At this point, Brent was growling though his teeth he was so angry. He tightened his jaw and searched the bedroom for something to smash. The wall was next to him, so he kicked it. A few pieces of plaster broke loose and shattered on the hard wood floor.
“We can’t kill it if it’s already dead.” Aiden said, but Brent paid no attention to him. That made Aiden mad. This time he yelled at him, but Brent continued to turn away. With that, Aiden lost control. He ran up behind him and punched him hard in the back of the head. Brent’s head snapped forward, but that did little to impress the muscled-up man. Brent retaliated quickly by swinging around with a back fist that drove into the side of Aiden’s mouth. He was sent spinning away, blood spilling from his lips, but Brent had no intentions of leaving it at that. He took a long stride toward him, winded up his rear leg like he were about to kick a soccer ball, and took both of Aiden’s legs out from under him with one giant sweep. Aiden’s feet snapped out from under him. The back of his head bounced off the wood floor while the rest of him folded over his chest. Brent was about to put a few more blows into his face until one of the girls intervened.
“Brent, stop! You hurt him.” Carrie ran to Aiden’s aid.
Brent rolled his eyes. He did his best to ignore the fact that Carrie felt sorry for Aiden when it was Aiden who had attacked him first. It wasn’t his fault that Aiden was small and scrawny and couldn’t take a punch, or throw one for that matter. He laughed through his nose before he brought up the subject at hand once again. “He can be killed, because he is human. And if he feels hate, then he can take these and shove ’em were he can feel them the most.” He held up both middle fingers at the door that had locked them in.
Aiden staggered to his feet. A serious look of hatred was bent into his face.
“If he is only human, then how does he disappear like that?” Stevie asked. She did her best to say it as calm as she could so that she wouldn’t get the guys anymore riled up. “I see more than a guy in a costume, Brent. I see a spirit who is more powerful than all of us together.”
Brent spit from his lips and waved off her comment.
“It isn’t human,” she said again, still calm. “It can’t be. I felt it. It felt like it wanted to burn me up from the inside out. It felt like . . . I don’t know. It was evil. That’s all I can say.”
“I believe you, Stevie. I’ve never seen something that big disappear like that before,” Aiden said. He was still breathing heavily and his voice had grown hoarse.
“Whatever it is, I’m still going to try and kill it,” Brent pounded his fist into his hand. He had a far-off look in his eyes. “And nobody is changing my mind. It’s dead, and that’s final.” He looked around the room and saw a sturdy looking wooden rocking chair in the corner. For what he wanted to do with it, it would work perfectly. He picked it up with both hands and raised it over his head. Aiden nearly fell backwards because he thought Brent was going to smash him with it, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a running start and threw it at the wall as hard as he could. He grunted like a pig as the chair smashed through the brittle plaster.
Everybody’s eyes lit up at the gaping hole the chair had put in the wall. They were free, but they all first listened for dogs. None of them were there. Aiden peeked through the hole. He could see that it opened a pathway to a completely different part of the mansion. One they had never been in before. He stepped through and the others followed.
The hallway glowed with the fire of candles that hung on hooks. Their orange flames flickered off the red paint. Strange figures of tortured men lined the walls like trees in a forest. Some were gigantic statues that reached the ceiling while others were only figurines. The ceiling of the hallway was tall, more than fifteen feet. Some of the statues almost looked like they were made from real human body parts. Others were holding weapons and dressed in full armor. Aiden took hold of one of the smaller ones that was on a shelf. It was made of stone and it was heavy. He held it in his hand like a club. “Here, Brent,” he said. “You can kill it with this.”
Brent wondered why Aiden had suddenly changed his attitude toward him, so he questioned, “Why don’t you keep it? Do you want me dead or something?”
“What, no. If I wanted you dead, why would I hand you something to protect yourself?”
“You said that you believed Stevie. You believe that this thing isn’t human and that it sees hatred. You want me full of hate so it attacks me? Is that what you’re doing?”
“What?” Aiden asked, trying to sound innocent, but he wasn’t a very good actor. Everybody could tell by the sound of his voice that something wasn’t right.
“Don’t lie to me, bro.” Brent raised the stone figure in his hand in a threatening manner.
“Brent, no way, man.” He put his hands up and waved them to try and calm him down. “I want all of us to get out of this alive.” He wiped a patch of blood from his lip. “I don’t want anybody dead. I’m not a murderer.”
But Brent didn’t listen. He took steps in Aiden’s direction.
“Brent, stop!” Carrie yelled.
“Brent!” Stevie yelled, and that got him to stop.
“No, I’m not going to kill the little worm, but I’m definitely not going to trust him.” He set the statue down where it had been and turned to lead them through the hallway. Aiden followed along, but he was so nerve-wracked from the incident that his lungs were vibrating. He was shocked that Brent had caught on to him. The next time he tried to get Brent killed, he had better be more discrete about it.
Their trek continued. The smell of rotten wood permeated the air. The hallways only led to more hallways. Not one of them had ever been to this part of the mansion before, and because there were no windows, they didn’t know if they were in the basement or in the attic. The place was huge, and it seemed to them as if they were in a labyrinth that only led them deeper into captivity.
“Shhh, did you hear that?” Stevie asked.
They all stopped. Carrie turned her candle in Stevie’s direction. “What?”
“Shhh, that.”
Aiden took a deep breath. “It sounds like mumbling.”
The mumbling was soft, but it was definitely there. It almost sounded like a wizard was chanting incantations.
“Oh, no, man, what is that?” Aiden started to shake he was so scared.
“Where is it coming from?” Carrie whispered.
“Here.” Brent pointed to a giant painting that was hanging on the wall. The painting was of a tree and moon, and under the tree was five different colored flames. He grabbed the thick wood frame of the painting and tried removing it, but it wouldn’t budge. Then the mumbling grew louder, and that gave them a better understanding of where it was coming from.
“Look!” Carrie said, “on the ceiling!” She raised her candle up as high as it would go. “Something is moving around on the ceiling.”
“That isn’t something. A person is tied up there.” Brent gazed at the man hanging in a ball of ropes.
“It might be Eddie,” Stevie said.
With the sound of his name, Eddie began twisting and mumbling as hard as he could to get them to come get him. He was all wrapped up in ropes like a mummy and hanging from a large ring that was attached to the ceiling.
For most of the group, the hope that Eddie was still alive was welcomed, but Aiden didn’t feel the same. He had hoped that Eddie had died. It wasn’t that Aiden disliked Eddie in any way. It was because Aiden knew that someone had to die first. This spirit, this thing that was chasing them, he was certain that it would kill one of them. And he believed as the outcast of the group that the odds were highly in his favor to die first. That’s why he had been trying to get Brent killed. If Brent died, maybe he wouldn’t.
“Damn,” Aiden whispered to himself.
“What?” Carrie had heard him.
“Oh, uh, climb up the painting to get onto that statue. You could probably reach him from up there.” The statue that was next to them was a massive Scandinavian warrior dressed in metal and holding an axe that stood over twelve feet tall. It nearly reached the ceiling.
Brent nodded and took hold of one of the human figures carved into the wood of the frame.
“Eddie!” Stevie cried with joy. “Hold on. We’ll get you down.”
Brent stepped foot onto the large arm of the warrior and then climbed the rest of the way up from there. He sat on the statue’s shoulders and stretched out as far as he could to try and reach his friend that hung precariously from the ceiling. He could just barely reach far enough out to push him and make him swing. Once he had him swinging back and forth, he was able to grab the ropes and hold him in place. Then he slipped out his pocket knife and cut him free.
Within minutes, Eddie’s arms were untied. He removed the ropes from his face and saw Brent for the first time.
“Brent!” he said with great enthusiasm. “Bro, get me down, bro!”
“Pull yourself to me.”
He did, and Brent cut him out the rest of the way and eased him onto the statue. They climbed down together and fell to the ground. They rolled over the top of each other while they laughed and cheered and patted each other’s backs as they hugged. The girls jumped on top to join in. As they cheered, Aiden stood back and watched the statue that was standing over the top of them come to life. First, an arm began to move. Then the weapon that it was holding, the giant axe, lowered. Aiden could see that it was aimed to drop and cut all four of them in half.
“Hey!” He yelled for their attention, but then the axe stopped moving. He saw that it had gotten caught on a piece of armor on the statue’s leg. He saw that all he had to do was bump the statue to knock it loose and then the blade would drop and sever them in half, but first he wanted to get everybody out of the way except for Brent. So he ran up to them and began pulling them up one by one while pretending to take part in their celebration. He first got the two girls up. He made sure Stevie was the farthest away. Then he jumped on Eddie and pulled him up.
Nervously, he said, “Eddie, I missed you so much!” Aiden hugged him around the body and slung him wildly so that he would bump into the statue and knock the axe loose. It worked, and nobody suspected a thing because they were blinded by their own joy.
The axe was free and lowering slowly once again, but then it stopped. Aiden watched it wondering why it wasn’t killing the man that he hated with everything in his heart. He cursed to himself because he wanted Brent dead and the axe wasn’t going to do it, but then something in the statue clicked. The group froze. Brent was still lying on the floor. He was erect on his elbows and listening carefully. “What was that?” he asked.
“I don’t . . . ,” and that was all Aiden could say before the floor gave way. The two girls, Eddie, and Aiden jumped back in time, but Brent was swallowed up. And to make Aiden even happier, the axe then followed along with the floor. It dropped too, slicing down into the hole that Brent had fallen into. They heard him scream and then nothing.
Eddie was the first to jump toward the hole to try and save his friend. The girls were next, but Aiden stayed back so that he could revel in the moment. A sleek smile was spread tight across his lips and a hard stare was over his brow. He gloated to himself while having corrupt thoughts of victory flooding his mind.
The two girls were beside themselves in terror and sorrow.
“Eddie, do something!” Stevie cried over her crush.
“I can’t see anything. It’s too dark.”
“How far down is it?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie slid deeper into the hole. Aiden searched the room for some other boobie-trap to let loose, but there was nothing. Then he searched for another excuse to try and kill Eddie without making it seem like he did it on purpose. If Eddie died too, his chances of survival would surely increase, because in stories like these, one man and one woman were always destine to make it out alive. And Aiden desperately wanted that man and woman to be him and Stevie. He loved Stevie with every ounce of flesh in his body.
“Stevie,” he said, “come stand by me and let me hold you so you don’t get hurt.” She glanced back, but didn’t respond to Aiden’s call.
“Brent!” Carrie screamed into the hole. “Brent, say something. Eddie, where is he?”
“I don’t know. Give me that candle.” But then Eddie began to scream as he too was slowly getting dragged deeper into the hole.
“Eddie!” Carrie jumped on his legs to try to stop him.
Aiden sat back watching anxiously. It looked as if he wouldn’t have to try and kill Eddie after all, because Eddie was about to kill himself.
But Eddie’s screams soon turned into shouts of joy when he learned that the thing dragging him into the hole was Brent using him to climb out. Brent popped up and pulled Eddie to his feet. As soon as Aiden saw that Brent was still alive, he knew that he was in trouble.
“Man, I hate that guy,” he whispered just before a large blade slammed into his back. The front of the blade broke through his chest. He twitched and gagged on his own blood. Then his feet began to smoke like an acid had been spilled over them.
The group spun around and saw that the floor under Aiden’s feet was now glowing red-hot. Flames rose over his body, burning his flesh black. Other than his screams of agony, his last words were, “I knew it would be me.”
The group was terrified. They wanted to help him, but the spirit that had been chasing them through this horrible mansion, making their nightmares come to life, was hovering above the flames. They took off running as fast as they could.
February 9, 2014
I Passed the ACSM Personal Trainer's Exam. Here's How:
I've gotten 32,000 views on this blog post so far. Please, as a token of your appreciation for the unsolicited guidance I'm providing you on your quest as a Personal Trainer, click the following link and share my fantasy thriller novel with your Goodreads or Facebook friends: https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog...
Thank you!!! Good luck on your test. Also, I've been a trainer for over five years. I've helped many clients lose over 100 lbs. One client I guided to lose about 250 lbs. Ask me questions about the job if you like.-Gabe Redel
I took The ACSM Personal Trainer Certification exam and passed it on the first try. It was a tough exam!!!
I'm going to tell you a few things that helped me succeed in passing.
The first is that I ordered all three books. The ACSM Resources text book, the Guidelines for Exercise Testing and Prescription, and the Certification Review workbook.
I did not go to the one day or the three day workshop. I signed up for it, for a price of $375, but it was cancelled because I was the only one attending. Ha! Got my money back.
The first book I read was the Resources book. Read through all of that and do your best to understand as much as you can. Read and reread. If you are like me, you will have to reread the same sentence five times before you finally understand what it is trying to say. I found myself looking up a lot of medical terms that I wasn't familiar with.
After reading the Resources text, then go into the smaller Guidelines for Exercise Testing book.
What you will not need to read in the Guidelines book is a whole lot of it.
Don't bother with any of the Special Populations Exercise Prescriptions other than for the elderly, children, and CVD or CAD classified risk populations.
You will also not need to know anything about Electrocardiograph Waveforms in the Interpretation of Clinical Exercise Test Results. The rest of the book is mainly review of the resources book, but highlight any new information you read in it.
Other things you will not need to know are most of the metabolic equations. I spent several days making sure to memorize each of them so I could bang them out on the test. The only metabolic equations you will need to know is Ideal Body Weight calculation, BMI, and work rate.
You will not need to know how to calculate the run or walk test, any of the Rockport stuff, the cycling test, the stepping test, nothing about mechanical work and angular power, and especially don't give a rat's behind about any conversion factors other than inches to centimeters, centimeters to meters, and pounds to kilograms.
I'm actually happy I busted hump learning everything I just told you wasn't on the test because I'm confident I can perform those things if I have to while on the job. It makes me look really smart in front of the the clients.
You will need to know how to calculate Target VO2 Max, max heart rate, heart rate reserve, the Karvonen target heart rate, and the absolute and relative VO2Max difference.
Something you should definitely know how to calculate is simple stuff like volume of exercise per week, how many pounds of fat you will lose if you burn so many calories. Those aren't necessarily metabolic equations, but they do require the basics of simple math.
Other than that, I remember a lot of questions about how blood pressure, heart rate, and stroke volume change as you workout, so know those.
The test will throw in little tid-bit questions about stuff that isn't a part of the bulk of the knowledge. One or two questions will be about muscle types, while one or two will be about protein. So, the best way to study for this is to simply review the stuff and get a fundamental idea of how most of it all works.
One thing that you will definitely need to know is Risk Classifications. Know how to classify High Risk, Moderate Risk, and Low Risk potential. One thing about the risk classification stuff is that you will be given total cholesterol figures. I don't remember ever seeing total cholesterol in any of my books. I remember seeing fasting glucose levels, so beware of that.
A few behavioral modification questions will arise. The best one to know down cold is the Transtheoretical Model. Know the basics of the others.
You will need to know how often and how much an athlete should drink water while working out on a 90 degree day.
You will need to know that there are 4 calories in one gram of protein, 4 in one gram of carbohydrates, and 9 in one gram of fat. You will also need to know that there are 3,500 calories in one pound of fat.
You will need to know the regions of the spine, how many vertebrae are in each, and what the curvatures of the spine are called.
Study the parts of the heart and how the blood flows through it. Understand Cardiac Output, stroke volume, blood pressure, heart rate, and especially know high and low blood pressure.
Those things I've listed should help to save you some time. The test is tough, but it isn't as scary as some of the other bloggers are saying. By the way, look up what the other bloggers are saying and use their information as well. I did, and it definitely helped. However, they did lead me astray a little bit. They made me think the exam was going to be full of the most difficult questions in the texts. So that's why I wasted a good 20 hours of my life learning all of those metabolic equations! But, as I said, all of those equations weren't on the test. Only the ones I mentioned. However, again, I'm glad I learned them for my own sake.
My overall study time for the exam was about 1.5 months. I'm not the best studier, but I did kick it into high gear as much as my brain would allow me to go. I generally spent about 10 hours a week studying in the beginning, but really turned up the volume for the last two weeks. The last week I spent a good 30 hours studying.
I hope some of what I said helps. Stay calm and get a good fundamental understanding of what is in the Resources text. Your goal isn't to just simply pass the exam. It is also to be a good personal trainer.
Thank you!!! Good luck on your test. Also, I've been a trainer for over five years. I've helped many clients lose over 100 lbs. One client I guided to lose about 250 lbs. Ask me questions about the job if you like.-Gabe Redel
I took The ACSM Personal Trainer Certification exam and passed it on the first try. It was a tough exam!!!
I'm going to tell you a few things that helped me succeed in passing.
The first is that I ordered all three books. The ACSM Resources text book, the Guidelines for Exercise Testing and Prescription, and the Certification Review workbook.
I did not go to the one day or the three day workshop. I signed up for it, for a price of $375, but it was cancelled because I was the only one attending. Ha! Got my money back.
The first book I read was the Resources book. Read through all of that and do your best to understand as much as you can. Read and reread. If you are like me, you will have to reread the same sentence five times before you finally understand what it is trying to say. I found myself looking up a lot of medical terms that I wasn't familiar with.
After reading the Resources text, then go into the smaller Guidelines for Exercise Testing book.
What you will not need to read in the Guidelines book is a whole lot of it.
Don't bother with any of the Special Populations Exercise Prescriptions other than for the elderly, children, and CVD or CAD classified risk populations.
You will also not need to know anything about Electrocardiograph Waveforms in the Interpretation of Clinical Exercise Test Results. The rest of the book is mainly review of the resources book, but highlight any new information you read in it.
Other things you will not need to know are most of the metabolic equations. I spent several days making sure to memorize each of them so I could bang them out on the test. The only metabolic equations you will need to know is Ideal Body Weight calculation, BMI, and work rate.
You will not need to know how to calculate the run or walk test, any of the Rockport stuff, the cycling test, the stepping test, nothing about mechanical work and angular power, and especially don't give a rat's behind about any conversion factors other than inches to centimeters, centimeters to meters, and pounds to kilograms.
I'm actually happy I busted hump learning everything I just told you wasn't on the test because I'm confident I can perform those things if I have to while on the job. It makes me look really smart in front of the the clients.
You will need to know how to calculate Target VO2 Max, max heart rate, heart rate reserve, the Karvonen target heart rate, and the absolute and relative VO2Max difference.
Something you should definitely know how to calculate is simple stuff like volume of exercise per week, how many pounds of fat you will lose if you burn so many calories. Those aren't necessarily metabolic equations, but they do require the basics of simple math.
Other than that, I remember a lot of questions about how blood pressure, heart rate, and stroke volume change as you workout, so know those.
The test will throw in little tid-bit questions about stuff that isn't a part of the bulk of the knowledge. One or two questions will be about muscle types, while one or two will be about protein. So, the best way to study for this is to simply review the stuff and get a fundamental idea of how most of it all works.
One thing that you will definitely need to know is Risk Classifications. Know how to classify High Risk, Moderate Risk, and Low Risk potential. One thing about the risk classification stuff is that you will be given total cholesterol figures. I don't remember ever seeing total cholesterol in any of my books. I remember seeing fasting glucose levels, so beware of that.
A few behavioral modification questions will arise. The best one to know down cold is the Transtheoretical Model. Know the basics of the others.
You will need to know how often and how much an athlete should drink water while working out on a 90 degree day.
You will need to know that there are 4 calories in one gram of protein, 4 in one gram of carbohydrates, and 9 in one gram of fat. You will also need to know that there are 3,500 calories in one pound of fat.
You will need to know the regions of the spine, how many vertebrae are in each, and what the curvatures of the spine are called.
Study the parts of the heart and how the blood flows through it. Understand Cardiac Output, stroke volume, blood pressure, heart rate, and especially know high and low blood pressure.
Those things I've listed should help to save you some time. The test is tough, but it isn't as scary as some of the other bloggers are saying. By the way, look up what the other bloggers are saying and use their information as well. I did, and it definitely helped. However, they did lead me astray a little bit. They made me think the exam was going to be full of the most difficult questions in the texts. So that's why I wasted a good 20 hours of my life learning all of those metabolic equations! But, as I said, all of those equations weren't on the test. Only the ones I mentioned. However, again, I'm glad I learned them for my own sake.
My overall study time for the exam was about 1.5 months. I'm not the best studier, but I did kick it into high gear as much as my brain would allow me to go. I generally spent about 10 hours a week studying in the beginning, but really turned up the volume for the last two weeks. The last week I spent a good 30 hours studying.
I hope some of what I said helps. Stay calm and get a good fundamental understanding of what is in the Resources text. Your goal isn't to just simply pass the exam. It is also to be a good personal trainer.
February 6, 2013
Daniel F. Bowman Interview
1. How did you get started writing?
I realize that I have tried for a long time. When I was a child, I wrote 1½-page stories of alien abductions, ending before the main character ever made it to the spacecraft! I also tried pirate novels, though these always stopped after the third mutiny—I needed a story where it already had a plot.
2. How did you get the ideas/information for your book?
“Alaric, Child of the Goths” began on a vacation. My wife Amanda and I visited the Toledo Zoo in Ohio . She was wiped out from walking all around, so I watched the History Channel after she fell asleep. We do not have cable, so this was as much a part of vacation as was watching the polar bear tear apart a trash can.
The episode was—you guessed it—about the Goths. I stared at the screen as I heard how a group of farmer-soldiers were cheated by Rome but decided to stand up to her, though she was the greatest empire in the world. They would not put up with bullying. The program ended: “Oppression sires rebellion, and when pushed too far, even the weak and the shattered can rise to challenge their oppressor.” I feel chills every time I hear that.
History is full of stories—true ones (unlike the wildly-adapted-but-still-enjoyable Braveheart, 300, Gladiator…). So many heroes, villains, and tragedies far exceed the fictional ideas of authors, and many of these stories are known only in boring monographs. I aim to remedy that.
3. What do you think your next book will be about? Any tentative title?
I hope to publish “Hammer of God” this year. Euric and Guntharic, brothers living in medieval Hispania, watch as their parents die and their sisters are taken captive by the Muslim Umayyads, who conquer their nation in a single battle. Euric flees north to Francia, where he dreams of becoming a knight, his fate intertwined with that of Duke Charles Martel. Meanwhile, Guntharic experiences life among the Umayyads, suffering through a long enslavement as he learns their advanced culture and befriends both Christians and Muslims. Will the two brothers ever see each other again? What will happen when the Umayyad host finally faces the Frankish phalanx at the epic battle of Tours ?
I am also writing the tale of Hernan Cortes’ wife, Dona Marina, so my wife can finally read a book with a female main character.
4. What tips do you have for other writers? (persevering, proofreading, publishing, promoting…) Anything unique/strange/wonderful?
The best tip I came across is to always plan my next session before I end my current one. That way I can write anywhere/anytime, knowing what I’m supposed to do next. I rarely have writer’s block because of this.
In college, I told my brothers part of a story each night, taking notes at the same time so I could type them out! They got annoyed, but I still have those stories.
5. What is your life like outside of writing family like?
I have been married to Amanda, my first and only girlfriend, for over eight years and we have two children, John and Anna. I enjoy an eclectic range of hobbies: playing piano and composing music, reading ancient languages, and teaching English as a Second Language to students from over fifteen countries.
Alaric: Child of the Goths
Daniel F. Bowman
For more on Daniel F. Bowman, visit his website at: http://danielfbowman.webs.com/
I realize that I have tried for a long time. When I was a child, I wrote 1½-page stories of alien abductions, ending before the main character ever made it to the spacecraft! I also tried pirate novels, though these always stopped after the third mutiny—I needed a story where it already had a plot.
2. How did you get the ideas/information for your book?
“Alaric, Child of the Goths” began on a vacation. My wife Amanda and I visited the Toledo Zoo in Ohio . She was wiped out from walking all around, so I watched the History Channel after she fell asleep. We do not have cable, so this was as much a part of vacation as was watching the polar bear tear apart a trash can.
The episode was—you guessed it—about the Goths. I stared at the screen as I heard how a group of farmer-soldiers were cheated by Rome but decided to stand up to her, though she was the greatest empire in the world. They would not put up with bullying. The program ended: “Oppression sires rebellion, and when pushed too far, even the weak and the shattered can rise to challenge their oppressor.” I feel chills every time I hear that.
History is full of stories—true ones (unlike the wildly-adapted-but-still-enjoyable Braveheart, 300, Gladiator…). So many heroes, villains, and tragedies far exceed the fictional ideas of authors, and many of these stories are known only in boring monographs. I aim to remedy that.
3. What do you think your next book will be about? Any tentative title?
I hope to publish “Hammer of God” this year. Euric and Guntharic, brothers living in medieval Hispania, watch as their parents die and their sisters are taken captive by the Muslim Umayyads, who conquer their nation in a single battle. Euric flees north to Francia, where he dreams of becoming a knight, his fate intertwined with that of Duke Charles Martel. Meanwhile, Guntharic experiences life among the Umayyads, suffering through a long enslavement as he learns their advanced culture and befriends both Christians and Muslims. Will the two brothers ever see each other again? What will happen when the Umayyad host finally faces the Frankish phalanx at the epic battle of Tours ?
I am also writing the tale of Hernan Cortes’ wife, Dona Marina, so my wife can finally read a book with a female main character.
4. What tips do you have for other writers? (persevering, proofreading, publishing, promoting…) Anything unique/strange/wonderful?
The best tip I came across is to always plan my next session before I end my current one. That way I can write anywhere/anytime, knowing what I’m supposed to do next. I rarely have writer’s block because of this.
In college, I told my brothers part of a story each night, taking notes at the same time so I could type them out! They got annoyed, but I still have those stories.
5. What is your life like outside of writing family like?
I have been married to Amanda, my first and only girlfriend, for over eight years and we have two children, John and Anna. I enjoy an eclectic range of hobbies: playing piano and composing music, reading ancient languages, and teaching English as a Second Language to students from over fifteen countries.
Alaric: Child of the Goths
Daniel F. Bowman
For more on Daniel F. Bowman, visit his website at: http://danielfbowman.webs.com/
November 12, 2012
The Secret to Story Telling, I Want!
Every time I read a story that gets me fired up, I can't wait to sit down and write something just like it!
The only problem is that despite my excited attitude, I have no idea what I want to write. Some might call that writer's block. I call it not being prepared.
When we sit down to write, we have two options. Either write what is on the top of our head, such as what we just ate for dinner, or draw up a story outline.
Some of us may know exactly what story we want to write when we sit down. We may know exactly what we want to say before we turn on the computer, and, to be honest, those are great times to write. If our thoughts draw us to the computer, then we are one step ahead of the game. But if our feelings draw us to the computer, we still have to get our minds involved if we are going to put anything on paper.
So, we know what we want to write---we want to write what provoked our feelings so strongly---but we don't know how to write it.
When drawing up an outline, the first thing I do is figure out what got me so fired up before I sat down. What was the message in the story I saw or read that had me scrambling to write? Once I figure that out, then I have my story. Do you know why? Because the message of the story is the story. In other words, the idea or change that the main character goes through is the foundation of the story---it is the motor that drives everything forward.
The beginning of the character's change/story usually starts with an "I want" statement. The character wants a romantic relationship. The character wants to find a pirate treasure. The character wants to learn the meaning of life.
Once we discover what we want our character to want, then we can begin building our story. The next step is to create a character that we can uncover our message with. And, the more unique our character is, the more unique our story will be. Think about a grandma who wants to find a treasure chest in the ocean. How would her story go? Think about a boy who wants to find a treasure. How would his story go?
The only problem is that despite my excited attitude, I have no idea what I want to write. Some might call that writer's block. I call it not being prepared.
When we sit down to write, we have two options. Either write what is on the top of our head, such as what we just ate for dinner, or draw up a story outline.
Some of us may know exactly what story we want to write when we sit down. We may know exactly what we want to say before we turn on the computer, and, to be honest, those are great times to write. If our thoughts draw us to the computer, then we are one step ahead of the game. But if our feelings draw us to the computer, we still have to get our minds involved if we are going to put anything on paper.
So, we know what we want to write---we want to write what provoked our feelings so strongly---but we don't know how to write it.
When drawing up an outline, the first thing I do is figure out what got me so fired up before I sat down. What was the message in the story I saw or read that had me scrambling to write? Once I figure that out, then I have my story. Do you know why? Because the message of the story is the story. In other words, the idea or change that the main character goes through is the foundation of the story---it is the motor that drives everything forward.
The beginning of the character's change/story usually starts with an "I want" statement. The character wants a romantic relationship. The character wants to find a pirate treasure. The character wants to learn the meaning of life.
Once we discover what we want our character to want, then we can begin building our story. The next step is to create a character that we can uncover our message with. And, the more unique our character is, the more unique our story will be. Think about a grandma who wants to find a treasure chest in the ocean. How would her story go? Think about a boy who wants to find a treasure. How would his story go?
