DWP No. 033

FEBRUARY | WEEK ONE

Storytelling

Objective

Turn an idea into a short story with a beginning, middle and “end.”

Each day this week, you will be asked to write about a certain aspect of your idea. These writings will then become the filling for your pie. For DWP No. 038, you will finally write your story and share it in its entirety on that day. In the meantime, get to work on imagining the world in which you will tell your tale.

Days ONE thru SIX are all EXERCISES in story-making.

 

STORYTELLING | DAY TWO of SEVEN

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7 Comments

  1. Name: Dune
    Surname: Unknown
    Age: Unknown (more than 30 years)
    Height: 175-250cm (separate observations)
    Weight: Unknown (no detectable reading on platform scale)
    Skin Color: Byzantium/translucent
    Eye color: Yellow/Orange (Sclera occasionally spontaneously shifts to black)
    Race: Non-human humanoid (claims to be human)

    Calling himself (“him” due to his use of a predominantly male voice) by the name of “Dune”, there is known to be artistically represented evidence of him dating back over 100,000 years into human antiquity. Always appearing amid a slowly crawling cloud of soft, sandy fog, any living creature swept into the haze finds itself fast asleep, not to wake up until some hours after Dune and the dust haze have parted from the area.

    Similar representations of his dark, purpley skin and aura of sandy fog from the human record match closely with the growing volume of CCTV footage and satellite imagery now accumulating in the hands of various interested parties.

    Though at this point he has proven inaccessible for humans to converse with directly, there are thousands of reported cases in which people who have awoken in his wake have found notes that they claim to originate from Dune.

    From studying the content in the volume of such notes, it would appear that Dune himself cannot remember beyond thirty years in the past.

    Little else is known of his home or whereabouts.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The “Listmaker”

    Of course, the Listmaker LIVES on the Listmaker’s Ranch, for it is his ranch, after all. Oh, shit, do you know that he’s a he? Right, that’s right. Okay, we’re okay. So, yes, of course the Listmaker lives on his ranch, and this means that he would probably tell you that … wait. I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you about the Listmaker or the Ranch. Who are you again? Okay, and why are you inquiring here? The incident? What incident? KILLED? A man was KILLED in the Listmaker’s home? This cannot be right. Well, let’s see. Are you sure that the man wasn’t just left there for dead, somehow? What do you mean HOW would someone get there? You know as well as anyone that only a … oh, I mean, yes, of course, absolutely, um … that is quite unfortunate that a man was found dead there, but I can guarantee you that the Listmaker did not do this. How am I sure? How am I SURE? Uh … no I haven’t met him in person, but we correspond. You know, the old fashioned pen pal sort of communicado? We had plans to commune, but you know how things can be. Um, but yes, you know of his … certain … existential crisis? You’re not sure? Well, then, you go along now and just, you know, go. Right? I never spoke a word of this. You never heard a word of this!

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  3. Anton is a wiry built man, 78 going on 40. He constantly wears his beloved soiled baseball cap and beige canvas pants stained with oil in held up by a rickety brown belt with half the brown color coming off. On his face are Wire glasses smudged with snot and various closed wounds on his hands with blood scabs evident where the rooster bit him. Anton is a great gardener and he is responsible for the flowerbeds. This is a show/stopping front yard even though the house is ugly People stop to dmire Anton’s work. Anton is about 5’7” He wears paint stained brown brogan lace up shoes with the heels all scuffed up and the toes bashed in as if they were too big for him. Most days when the weather is nice he’s out in stained T-shirt working on his hands and knees with his beloved flower beds and cursing every time he thinks of Val and cussing him out under his breath. His Sweatshirt is navy blue and it to is spotted with dirt, the sleeves cruddy with dried snot when he couldn’t pull out his handkerchief in time.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Interesting. I love, “wire glasses smudged with snot and various closed wounds on his hand with blood scabs evident where the rooster bit him.”

      If you haven’t already, try to also develop the interior mind of Anton. You don’t necessarily need to share his thoughts with us, as the reader, but you need to know them as his creator.

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    1. I’m not sure if I want to give you a specific example, cause you really need to develop your own sense of self as a writer, but I’ll give you some more stuff to think about.

      What motivates Anton?
      If Anton were to write a diary entry, what would he write? Is he the type of person who keeps a diary? If not, then perhaps he intentionally lacks an inner dialogue. Why does he want the things he wants? What does he want?

      Things of this nature. Answering these types of questions about him might help flesh him out as a person…as a whole person…despite whatever flaws he might have…he can still be complete. Or maybe it will reveal his struggle, his flaws, his humanity…or inhumanity. Does that help?

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