Kindle Best Seller

Welcome to Scranton is back as a Kindle Best Seller…in a very narrow category.

It was right behind Ann Patchett’s Truth and Beauty and ahead of Thicker Than Blood:Friendships of Womyn by Maureen Jones-Ryan.

It reached #22 in the following category:

Again, I’m amused as the novella is fiction. It’s definitely not a How-to book on anything except perhaps how not to have a relationship. But I’ll take what I can get.


You Don’t Know How Bad it Gets

More fun with a writing prompt: You Don’t Know How Bad it Gets

“The wife shot at them?”

“Sure. The husband was sneaking around with another woman,” he said and lit a cigarette.

“Why didn’t she just divorce him?”

He let out a few smoke rings and said, “You’re not married. You have no idea how bad it gets in a situation like that. They had two kids. They were supposed to be together forever. See those kids raised and off to college, travel the world when they retired, grow old together. When that promising future was gone, she snapped, completely lost it. She couldn’t process it. Her life was upside down or rather the whole world had gone insane on her. Nothing made sense.”

“And the only thing that did make sense was to kill them?”

“Not exactly.”

He took another drag before putting the cigarette to her lips. She took a long, slow drag.

“What do you mean ‘not exactly?”

“She missed. They ran out of the room still naked, scared to death.”

“So what happened?”

“The sound of the gun going off caused the wife to snap out of it. She realized what she was doing and that it wasn’t worth going to jail over, especially since she had kids. She let the husband come back home a few weeks later.”

“What happened to the other woman?”

“Left town. Went to D.C. Married to some guy.”

“Why are you telling me this story?”

“We can’t get caught. My wife might not miss next time.”


Read and eBook Week

In honor of Read an eBook Week, the Kindle and Nook editions of Welcome to Scranton are available for 99 cents.

Kindle

Nook


It was a matter of time

Another writing prompt I enjoyed–It was a matter of time

His father was in decline for the past year. The old man had been on a respirator and unconscious for weeks. The family knew it was a matter of time.  Yet when the respirator was finally removed and the father finally died, the eldest son, James Jr., did not feel relief as he expected. Instead, he felt a wave of grief and fear for which he was unprepared.

James Jr. saw his future and his own death as he watched James Sr. briefly struggle for breath, his body disturbingly thrash about just before the end. James Jr. was reminded of his mother. She died at the age of thirty-two from cervical cancer. James Jr. was just twelve at the time. He helped raised his two younger siblings, neither of whom remember much about their mother, a woman James thought a saint.

While his siblings were blessed with healthy spouses, James Jr’s own wife, Sabine, died at the age of thirty-four of lymphoma. They, too, had three children. James Jr. struggled to raise them on his own. He eventually dated a few women in the ten years since his wife died, but most women don’t want to help raise three children that are not their own. And who could blame them. James, himself, would not have wanted to if the situation were reversed. There was one woman, however, who would have married him but she wanted to have a child of her own with James. He wanted to, he really did, but three children was enough, James told her. She promptly gave up on him and married another man within a year. James Jr. would, if his life was to mirror his own father’s, as he believed it would, would not find another woman before the end. He would die with his three children at his bedside. James Jr. wondered what would become of his eldest son.

Copyright © Greg Halpin, 2011 All Rights Reserved


All the Stars Have Disappeared

I had an interesting time with this writing prompt: All the Stars Have Disappeared

—–

I hear a noise and go out on the porch to see what is happening. It’s simply a window shudder that’s come unhinged from the wind kicking up. Not more than thirty minutes before the night sky was clear, calm. Now all the stars have disappeared along with the crescent moon, covered by ominous clouds that rolled in from the West.

We get nights like this occasionally in the Arizona desert. I should be used to them after all these years but they make me feel uneasy. Seems something bad is going to happen though nothing ever does aside for some minor damage to the outside of the house. The wind sends shivers up my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I go back in the house to the kitchen, and take a sip of my drink. Something’s different about tonight. Though I think that too each time the storms roll in, but it’s always the same.

My wife comes downstairs in her robe, fresh out of the bath. She asks what the noise was. I tell her. She doesn’t like these nights either. She takes my drink and sips on it. “I wish it didn’t get like this,” she says, her eyes fearful.

“It’ll be okay,” I say. “We just have to ride out the storm.”

 

 

Copyright © Greg Halpin, 2011 All Rights Reserved


Week Four Wrap Up

We had some interesting readings this week. The writing assignment and exercises, however, were more interesting.

In class we had to do a couple of writing prompts. We also had a writing assignment due on Friday that helped me a lot with my writing. We had to write a story that built tension slowly and also showed character development. While it makes perfect sense  to do it that way after someone tells you to, it was not obvious to me when I started writing on how to do that. It’s really opened up things for me and the way I look at writing scenes.


Week Three Wrap Up

We only had one class in week three because of holiday. We learned about the different types of narrators–limited, limited omniscient, and omniscient.

Stan talked about how the narration changes in a story. For example, Catcher in the Rye starts with the young Holden Caulfield speaking directly to the reader. Then it changes. The author steps back and narrates a story. Then it changes again and Holden speaks directly to the reader. It was very interesting. I hadn’t noticed that before or if I did, I didn’t know it was a “narrational contrstruct.”

One thing that struck me was the idea that the narrator and the narrational character are not the same people. The narrator is separate from the character by time.

We talked about several books in class that I’d like to read…if I can find the time: House of Leaves, The Domino Men, and Finnegan’s Wake.

I updated my first draft of the Katie story over the weekend. I changed the title. The story remains much the same except that I changed it from third to first person, which fits with what I’m doing with my other stories I stripped out some cheesy lines and hopefully, didn’t add any new ones. I’ll know when I read it again a week or a month from now.

– – –

Katie

By Greg Halpin

She showed up at the café shortly before closing time. It had been a while since I saw her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I said.

“I have to talk to you, Hank.” I hated when conversations started like that. It usually meant trouble. This one probably wasn’t going to be any different.

“I’m pregnant,” she said. Read the rest of this entry »


Unreliable Narrator


Here was the assignment:

Shifty Voice. Write a short sequence using a narrative voice that is “unreliable.” After you complete the selection, explain what techniques you used to “undermine” the voice you used.

No title

She was a little scared to be alone but she would be okay, the woman told her sister, the last of her visitors. She closed the door her and locked it tight. The house was empty and quiet, except for the crackling of the fire.

She went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of Riesling. Thank god her sister and friends put away all the food. The funeral exhausted her and she didn’t have the energy to do it herself. She would have let it sit out and toss it in the garbage the next day. Normally, she’d never think to waste a scrap of food. She could forgive herself. After all, she buried her husband that day.
The woman brought her glass upstairs and set it down on her bedside table. She removed her earrings, pearl necklace, and let her hair down. She removed her dress and put on her husband’s robe. She loved the way it smelled. She went to the bathroom to remove her makeup.

She got into bed and pulled her journal from the top drawer. She opened it and closed it immediately. Who could write at a time like this. She set it down and picked up the glass of wine. As she did, she accidently knocked over the photo of her deceased husband. It startled her.

She picked up the photo and looked at it for a moment. The photo was taken ten years before. The two of them had been dating six months. She was madly in love with him. Her eyes welled up with tears. She set the photo down and grabbed a tissue to dry her eyes.

She took a sip of wine. She picked up the phone from the table. She paused before dialing.

Someone answered at the other end of the line.

“I’m free,” the woman side. “We can finally be together.”

——

I tried to write a story where the character is very sympathetic. She suffered a loss, which we can all understand. In the end, I undermined her point of view by making her less sympathetic, suggesting she was happy that her husband died if not involved in his death.


Week Two Roundup

Wednesday’s class was really good.  It began last week at The Creative Oasis on Beaver Avenue. It’s an art studio with a gallery in the front. They sell a lot of great items–decorative bowls, mugs, vases, and such. Stan instructed us to pick an item from the gallery and write about it. First we had to write a literal description of the object. Next, we had to write metaphorical description. Then finally, we wrote a combination of the two. It was a good way to get us to write creatively, which I’m not in the habit of doing. Most of my writing is literal.

We moved on to Panera for our critique session. Each of us read an excerpt from our stories. The assignment we had was to write one scene that contains conflict and a resolution. The stories everyone read impressed me. They had real plots and characters. I appreciated the feedback I received back from everyone regarding my story. I’ll use it to improved what I have. Below is an excerpt from a work in progress, tentatively titled “Katie.” Read the rest of this entry »


Conflict, Plot, Story, London, Poe

We had four readings for the last class, three of which I enjoyed.

We read an essay that outlines the different types of conflict characters and\or stories must have: internal, external, as well as man vs. nature, man vs. society, man vs. man. I suppose I knew this before on some level but never saw it outlined before.

The second reading was an essay on plot and story from the Kung Fu Monkey Blog. Though it examines TV and movie scripts, it’s also applicable to fiction. It gives a nice breakdown of the plot of the movie The Incredibles. While most books and movies have three acts, the author writes that this film has seven.

I was looking forward to reading Poe. I lived in Baltimore for a while and visited  his grave site and one of the houses he lived in. Unfortunately, I had a tough time reading “The Purloined Letter” by Edgar Allan Poe.” What can I say? I find mid-nineteenth century language cumbersome. I did find it interesting when the professor told us in class that the story launched the mystery genre.

I first read “To Build A Fire” by Jack London in high school. It was good to read it again. It’s about a man in Alaska a hundred years ago or so. He is hiking to meet up with friends, presumably to find work at a logging camp. He is accompanied by a dog. The walk will take the entire day. The man was warned not to go out into the wilderness alone. He dismissed the advice.  The man runs into trouble when his feet get wet after breaking through the ice. The man needs to build a fire to dry so he doesn’t freeze to death. It was getting close to class time when I began reading the story so I read it fast. That heightened the sense of danger the man was in, at least for me. In the end, the man dies of course.

The professor asked the class if we liked the man. I hadn’t thought of that before. I looked at it more as a difficult situation a person was in and his life was at risk. Most people apparently don’t like the man in the story because he doesn’t head the advice not to hike alone and because he treats the dogs poorly and tries to kill the dog in an attempt to use the dog’s body and fur to stay warm. Stan asked if the dog is the protagonist of the story. What if the conflict is between the dog and the man in addition to or instead of the man vs. nature. It hadn’t occurred to me but it made sense. The dog does survive. The man certainly could be the antagonist from the dog’s point of view.

We had a could exercise in class–to put together a scene where two character come into conflict. We ended up with a former professor who lost his job because of drinking problems. To support himself, he finds a job driving a cab. One night he picks up the man who fired him, the department head, who is inebriated. This is his opportunity to take revenge. Does he?