David J. Gibbs's Blog: Testing The Water, page 13
December 23, 2014
3 Word Roulette
Started another three random word writing prompt. My words are Janet, a lighter, and an alley. I have no title, but this is what I've managed so far...
The lighter had been a point of contention for years between her and her brother, to the point that they actually had stopped speaking for the better part of her junior and senior year in high school. Jason, her brother, insisted that the lighter was given to him by their dead grandfather. Or more correctly, it was promised to him.
Janet, whose mother insisted on calling her Precious anytime she could, knew better. She knew better, because as their grandfather lay dying in the back bedroom of the small brick house, he had promised it to her. His shaking hands had cradled her own around the lighter when he told her his intentions.
Why was the lighter so important?
Hearing that distinct snap of the lid as the Zippo lighter offered its flame to her grandfather’s pipe was such a strong trigger to a tremendous flood of memories, both good and bad. He had carried that lighter with him as a badge of honor just as he did the pipe which had been given to him by his great grandfather.
“Precious are about ready to go? I don’t want to be late,” her mother’s voice called up the stairwell.
“Just another minute,” she called back.
Janet knew they wouldn’t be late. They were going to end up being thirty minutes early just like they were to practically everything. Why on earth her mother needed to be there so early was beyond her. It wasn’t like they couldn’t find something else to do other than wait.
Running a brush through her tangle of formidable blonde curls, curls which she had given up on ever straightening out, she used her hands to gently bring the hair over her shoulders. Quickly, almost savagely, she looked at her reflection. Taking her fingers and running them beneath her eyes, the puffiness still there though she had been sleeping better, she decided it would just have to be good enough.
I'll let you know how it progresses.
The lighter had been a point of contention for years between her and her brother, to the point that they actually had stopped speaking for the better part of her junior and senior year in high school. Jason, her brother, insisted that the lighter was given to him by their dead grandfather. Or more correctly, it was promised to him.
Janet, whose mother insisted on calling her Precious anytime she could, knew better. She knew better, because as their grandfather lay dying in the back bedroom of the small brick house, he had promised it to her. His shaking hands had cradled her own around the lighter when he told her his intentions.
Why was the lighter so important?
Hearing that distinct snap of the lid as the Zippo lighter offered its flame to her grandfather’s pipe was such a strong trigger to a tremendous flood of memories, both good and bad. He had carried that lighter with him as a badge of honor just as he did the pipe which had been given to him by his great grandfather.
“Precious are about ready to go? I don’t want to be late,” her mother’s voice called up the stairwell.
“Just another minute,” she called back.
Janet knew they wouldn’t be late. They were going to end up being thirty minutes early just like they were to practically everything. Why on earth her mother needed to be there so early was beyond her. It wasn’t like they couldn’t find something else to do other than wait.
Running a brush through her tangle of formidable blonde curls, curls which she had given up on ever straightening out, she used her hands to gently bring the hair over her shoulders. Quickly, almost savagely, she looked at her reflection. Taking her fingers and running them beneath her eyes, the puffiness still there though she had been sleeping better, she decided it would just have to be good enough.
I'll let you know how it progresses.
December 21, 2014
Charity Case
Another story that I finished was called 'Charity Case'. I was based on a news story that honestly shook me to the core. It covered two people, a man and a woman, who were arrested for desecrating graves and stealing bones and using them to gratify themselves. If that wasn't bad enough, I learned that the two people that were arrested were people I had known and gone to high school with. Spooky right?
And no in case you're wondering Charity was not the girl's name.
And no in case you're wondering Charity was not the girl's name.
Knock, Knock
Just finished writing a story called 'Knock, Knock'. It was inspired by a girl that came knocking on my door. She was about seven or eight and asked if Max Fields was there. I told her no he didn't live here and she went away.
About a week later she came again to the door and asked for Max Fields again and again I told her he didn't live here and then asked if her mommy was around. She told he she was down there and pointed down to the bottom of the driveway. I turned from the door to slip on my shoes and by the time I got to the driveway there was no sign of the girl or her mother.
The idea of someone unexpectedly knocking on the door in some outlying cabin was intriguing to me. And so a brother and two sisters are taking care of their very ill mother when their uninvited guest knocks at the door.
On a side note...
Although Max Fields' name doesn't appear in the story, I'm sure it will show up in another one.
About a week later she came again to the door and asked for Max Fields again and again I told her he didn't live here and then asked if her mommy was around. She told he she was down there and pointed down to the bottom of the driveway. I turned from the door to slip on my shoes and by the time I got to the driveway there was no sign of the girl or her mother.
The idea of someone unexpectedly knocking on the door in some outlying cabin was intriguing to me. And so a brother and two sisters are taking care of their very ill mother when their uninvited guest knocks at the door.
On a side note...
Although Max Fields' name doesn't appear in the story, I'm sure it will show up in another one.
December 18, 2014
Inspiration Comes From Where?
It's probably the most common question every writer is asked, especially one that likes to write creepy and bizarre stories the way I do. And that question is where do you get your ideas from? Where does your inspiration come from?
The answer isn’t as simple as it might sound. It’s not like there is some idea chute that I just wait the next packaged idea to come tumbling down. They come from all kinds of things. It might be a simple as a conversation or something noticed while walking around the neighborhood. It’s difficult to quantify what exactly makes that conversation idea worthy too, because they are hardly ever an entire story no matter what form those bits of inspiration come in.
A lot of times, those ideas are perhaps only a character or a setting or a line a character should say. Sometimes the idea comes as a complete interaction between characters or even part of a story. I have to constantly update my ‘IDEAS.WPD’ file with these so that no idea scrambles away to the idea factory to be recycled by someone else.
It might be gleaned from the endless lists of top 10 weird but true lists on the Internet. It might be one of those mass SPAM mailings.
The last thing that inspired an idea?
I was driving my car in the predawn dark and heard the half-empty water bottle crinkling as it rolled across the floor. It made me think about what else might be rolling around on the passenger floor in the dark that I couldn’t see. It also made me wonder what might be hungry or thirsty riding beneath my own seat.
The point is never stop talking, watching, reading, interacting, and being part of the crazy world around us. No matter what genre, you’re bound to find something to inspire you.
IDEAS.WPD content?
I have over forty-five pages of single spaced ideas for stories and it’s always growing.
The answer isn’t as simple as it might sound. It’s not like there is some idea chute that I just wait the next packaged idea to come tumbling down. They come from all kinds of things. It might be a simple as a conversation or something noticed while walking around the neighborhood. It’s difficult to quantify what exactly makes that conversation idea worthy too, because they are hardly ever an entire story no matter what form those bits of inspiration come in.
A lot of times, those ideas are perhaps only a character or a setting or a line a character should say. Sometimes the idea comes as a complete interaction between characters or even part of a story. I have to constantly update my ‘IDEAS.WPD’ file with these so that no idea scrambles away to the idea factory to be recycled by someone else.
It might be gleaned from the endless lists of top 10 weird but true lists on the Internet. It might be one of those mass SPAM mailings.
The last thing that inspired an idea?
I was driving my car in the predawn dark and heard the half-empty water bottle crinkling as it rolled across the floor. It made me think about what else might be rolling around on the passenger floor in the dark that I couldn’t see. It also made me wonder what might be hungry or thirsty riding beneath my own seat.
The point is never stop talking, watching, reading, interacting, and being part of the crazy world around us. No matter what genre, you’re bound to find something to inspire you.
IDEAS.WPD content?
I have over forty-five pages of single spaced ideas for stories and it’s always growing.
December 17, 2014
'Evilest man in the cemetery'
While I was walking through Spring Grove Cemetery in Cincinnati--my family think of it as more of a park--a drunken man stumbled up to us and asked if we knew where the 'evilest man in the cemetery' was buried.
He told us the plot location and it instantly became a story idea entitled 'A Taste of the Grave' which appears in the short story anthology of the same name.
He told us the plot location and it instantly became a story idea entitled 'A Taste of the Grave' which appears in the short story anthology of the same name.
December 14, 2014
Latest work
Finished 'Do Me A Solid' and 'Fight or Flight' this week. 'Do Me A Solid' was a result of the three random word writing prompt I used. I mentioned it in an early post. The three words were Umbrella, Boston, and Sean. It is the story of a tough young kid growing up in Boston and working for organized crime outfit. Things go sideways for him and he finds himself no longer in complete control of his destiny.
I liked the end result and think the story is pretty solid.
'Fight or Flight' was inspired by something that happened on the cross country camping trip of last summer. It follows a small boy with a deformity struggling to fit in. He hasn't learned to fly yet and the others make fun of him because of it. Practicing alone to try and get stronger, he is teased and pushed to the brink before finally learning to fly. He learns however that it's not everything he imagined it would be.
I liked the end result and think the story is pretty solid.
'Fight or Flight' was inspired by something that happened on the cross country camping trip of last summer. It follows a small boy with a deformity struggling to fit in. He hasn't learned to fly yet and the others make fun of him because of it. Practicing alone to try and get stronger, he is teased and pushed to the brink before finally learning to fly. He learns however that it's not everything he imagined it would be.
December 13, 2014
Discovery of Old
This past week I found a short story I'd written about twenty years ago called 'Gathering'. I had forgotten I had written it. It was stored in an old backup directory. It was interesting to read and I thought still held up.
Makes me wonder what else I've forgotten.
Makes me wonder what else I've forgotten.
November 5, 2014
Post Halloween Blues
I've always relished the chill in the air, the way dried husks of leaves were drawn over pavement, and the way darkness falls quicker, in heavy blankets this time of year. Halloween has always been a favorite holiday of mine. The pent up hopes of living out a dream in costume, while taking offered hand outs from neighbors and strangers alike, always made the night crackle unlike any other. Delicious flavors kept me company, as I walked between houses, ghouls and heroes wandering with me.
Thanksgiving doesn't hold a candle to Halloween in my mind...
Thanksgiving doesn't hold a candle to Halloween in my mind...
October 28, 2014
The Narlings
Still working on my rewrite of upcoming novel entitled 'The Narlings'. Why is that every time I'm done rewriting it, I feel like it needs to be rewritten again?
Hoping to have the finalized draft finished by mid November. Bronchitis has slowed me down but not completely knocked me out of commission.
Ah, chicken noodle soup.
Hoping to have the finalized draft finished by mid November. Bronchitis has slowed me down but not completely knocked me out of commission.
Ah, chicken noodle soup.
October 24, 2014
Bronchitis and the writer
It's the first time I've had bronchitis in years and it's a doozy.
Mission Impossible: How to write when coughing up your insides.
Missing Impossible: how to write when coughing up your insides so hard you throw out your back
Neither mission has been accepted...
Mission Impossible: How to write when coughing up your insides.
Missing Impossible: how to write when coughing up your insides so hard you throw out your back
Neither mission has been accepted...
