Tales From Fiction Writing Class

Tales from fiction writing class

Create a scene using details and imagery to convey a feeling without stating it directly, use like dialog.

"I'm just trying to help you. You ‘re going to go to Hell."

My throat dried out. It felt like those mornings after I had smoked a couple of Menthols 100s the night before while drunk at some bar. My nose was starting to burn as well, like when you're underwater and you breathe in. Caleb seemed to notice my discomfort after a moment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Just ... I'm sorry."

The lights in the restaurant seemed too bright all of a sudden. The other customers all seemed to be too happy to be real people. Even the glass of water next to me looks too pretty to drink. It's probably from the tap, filled with iron and rust particles. Drinking anything in this place sounded awful. 

Silence set in then. My eyes wandered over to the tables that surrounded us. There was a man in a suit with a bolo tie that didn’t like his salad but still eating it. A ceiling fixture on the opposite wall had an overlooked cobweb on it. A woman sitting a bit away wore a pretty summer dress with a pair of black and white Adidas sneakers, looking cute and quirky.

I heard Caleb start to talk again, but I continued to stare at her shoes." I think once you start going to worship with my family you'll really like it. The people there are so welcoming and nice. You know it kinda hurts my feelings that you won't even try to come just once." I wish I was cute and quirky.

The woman noticed me staring at her then and gave me a rude look. I slowly turned my body forward in the chair as my stomach contoured into a painful ball. Caleb was looking away now, but he felt my eyes on him. He took a deep breath and put on a forced smile before looking at me again.

“I got you something." He pulled a red jewelry box out of his pants pocket and slide it over to my side of the table. "Happy six months." The piano music was now very melancholy yet it hadn't changed keys. His hands started shaking a bit. He wanted me to explode into a smile and kiss him passionately, then he’d feel better.

"Uh… here." He reaches over and opens the box. It was a small heart pendant encrusted with three white diamonds. The one that’s super popular with many women right now. The one that his sister had flaunted at me two months ago over dinner and I had pretended to love out of politeness.

I should rub my eyes, but then I'll smear my makeup and it'll get in my contacts and it'll look like I'm crying and I'm not crying.

"Please say something."

“I don't feel well,” a hoarse voice says.

He has a look on his face. One I can't name, but I know it well. The one some old classmates I don't talk to anymore had. The one a street preacher had when he yelled at me for wearing a skirt. It seems a lot of people have this look. An old roommate had it. The cashier at Walmart. My mom. 

“You’ll feel better after you eat.”

Tales from Fiction writing class

Write a scene where a character has certain traits but those are never stated out but are made clear to through actions and dialog.

Traits: Jealousy, Ambition, and reflection 

Himmberton was not normal the type to give people much of a second glance, but he guessed today was different. It was probably because he had skipped lunch and his growling stomach was affecting his mood. 

The large crowds of people in the park were starting to make him feel little. The bench he was occupying was no longer comfortable but it seemed that there were too many eyes on him so he decided it would be better if he remained where he was. 

He scanned the crowd for anything that would capture his attention.

 There were two men dressed in suits, laughing while admiring their fancy watches as they gleamed in the sunshine. Himmberton didn't like those men. Sure, he loved shiny things as much as any creature, but they were being so showing about it. They were probably greedy and had gotten them by stepping on every bug that crossed their path for the fun of it. Bad men. They didn't deserve shiny things. He could afford one of those watches after a few months of working at the ice cream shop, but his money was suited for better things. He always served men like them in the store. Big, hoglike mounds of flesh, feasting away on the homemade ice cream. Then leaving a mess and no tip. 

After another moment, he couldn't take it anymore and looked back down at the grass. A Black Prickly Caterpillar towards his foot.

"Good Afternoon," Himmberton said in the most cheerful tone he could muster. " Is the weather being good to you?" The caterpillar continued its path towards his shoe.

"Oh! Allow me to help you up here." He picked up the little crawly awkwardly, trying his best not to scare it as he set it down on the other side of the bench. " There you go. We can't have you getting trampled now."

Himmberton looked away from his new comrade and back at the people in the park. 

"You know, the more time I spend here, I start to see why they prefer to be indoors," he said quietly. 

The caterpillar sat still in its spot.

"Oh, don't be like that! Look! At least the little ones are alright." Himmberton pointed to across the grass, where a group of little girls were chasing after a butterfly. 

He looked back down the caterpillar, hoping to see some reaction but the caterpillar remained at rest.

" I know you're right. Things can't stay this way. Say, I could use a hand with all this. Why don't you come with me? If you're so passionate, then you should do your part."

At that, the Caterpillar started to move again and crawl towards his lap.

" That's the spirit. Come on, we're burning daylight." In a quick swoop, Himmberton picked up the Caterpillar and dropped him into his front pocket. " I'm really glad I met you. I was having the worst day."

The two of them rushed out of the park and back towards the city to get started on Himmberton's plane. You see, Himmberton was no ordinary man. His body was actually a robotic human suit being piloted by a small bug. Soon all humans would pay for their misdeeds against his kind.

Just guys being dudes

Question for the fandom bc I need answers (we all do)

What the fuck is Diego shirtless for? Why is there a cat? And why is Luther looking like he is a retail manager?

Tales from fiction writing class

Write a scene where the characters are talking about an issue without actually stating it.  

We stood outside the bar, my mother and I. It was starting to rain, but she was smoking, so we couldn't go inside yet. I was slowly becoming miserable. 

"Can I go inside?"

"Gimme a minute. I'm almost done."

I didn't speak and she took another drag.

"How'd you start smoking anyway?"

"Your grandma."

Silence and a drag followed.

"Are you done yet?"

"Just wait… Jesus," she answered, angrily.

Silence. Drag.

"I really don't like this… you know," I said.

"What? Me smoking?"

"No."

The rain was still lightning falling. It reminded me of the end of a garden hose. How even when you stand under it, you never feel wet.

My mother finally spoke."Well, I do."

"I can't see why."

She took a last drag and threw the cigarette down without fully putting it out first. "You're too young to understand."

"Or maybe you didn't teach me well enough to understand."

Silence. No drag. "If you don't like it, then don't come next time."

I felt like crying. "If you're unhappy, I understand. But you can stop and do the right thing. We can do something and try to fix it. It's like when you remodeled the kitchen. You…".

She cut me off then. "The problem isn't in the kitchen, it lies in the foundation. Once the foundation's cracked, there isn't much you can do."

I wish I hadn't brought the topic up. "I don't think the foundation is cracked. I love our house. I want to save it."

Before she could say anything, the door to the bar opened. The bartender walked outside and came towards us. "My shift's over. Imma head out."

My mom turned towards him, happily saying, "Are you sure you can't stay?"

I turned away from them. I heard him say, "Yeah, but I'll see you around."

The joy in her voice died. "Around?"

"Yeah. So… bye."

They were quiet for a moment. 

He got into his car and turned on the engine. The radio started blasting some profane rap song. Once he was gone, we looked back at each other and I decided that it was time to head home. I walked to the passenger door of our car. My mother didn't say anything and walked slowly to the driver's door.

We started on the fifteen-minute drive back home still in complete silence. I decided to finally speak. "You know, even if the foundation of our home is cracked, you can't move into one of the fake room sets at IKEA."

She didn't say anything. Perhaps I had gotten to her. We pulled into the driveway and saw that my dad was already here.

For J

I'm not asking you to love

To be honest I don't know if I could return the feeling 

But if I could ask something of you 

I would ask that you pine after me

That you think about me when you look out over the rolling hills as you drive to work

Or that you can still feel my kisses long after I have left you 

The way I giggled when your nose touched my neck for the first time

That you swear my perfume is still on your clothes no matter how many times they go through the wash

I want you to sit alone and overhear a conversation and remember something that I said and then you laugh to yourself but get embarrassed because the people who see are judging you and really try to transport me there with you 

That sometimes you can feel the ghost of my hand against your palm. 

Then it grows and covers the rest of your skin, like an itch that's odd yet comforting 

You rub your fingers together, wondering if you're going crazy 

And as your day goes by, you notice sexual innuendos in everything, like who many times can a person hears the words " climax" and " erupt" and natural grunts and sighs in an English class and not think about them coming out of my mouth and how good it feels that you're the reason why 

That you sit in your car and think about the excitement and fear and warmth and shivers that wouldn't stop expelling from your body as we dove on the highway and you prayed that I wouldn't notice 

That you pass by people and places and think that you see me or that you can magic me coming around the corner into your arms but you are not that lucky 

That you get jealous whenever you just see a Hispanic woman with another man 

That your fist clenched with bitterness and unshed tears because why can't you have that 

That you think about getting in your car and driving 3 and a half hours to come to my town and you will find me and spend every moment after in my dorm on my twin bed

Singing hymns and love songs into each other's skin

But then you realize that's way out of line and just end up wondering what color my comforter is 

Then you start to look at my Instagram a lot 

An unsettling amount and feel gross doing it but…

There's only like three photos and they're old 

You hope that I'll post anything just to be sure I'm not a figment of your imagination

That you can see me and hear me and feel me

You find my Facebook that hasn't been touched in months 

Other posts with me in them from other peoples accounts from long before you knew me

You wish we'd known each other forever

And sometimes 

In those really early hours of the morning when you can't sleep and feel like the only person in the world 

You dream while you're awake, you let your mind go far

More than you would ever tell anyone 

Things that you would never dare tell anyone, not even me 

But ohhhhh 

You wish you could 

The next spring and summer and autumn and winter all lay at your feet like a Tralfamadorian novel

" No beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love are the depths of the many marvelous moments seen all at once."

It's all as clear as it ever could be 

Laughter, pillow talk, fights, forgiveness, drives, farmers markets, late nights, dive bars, kickbacks, no contact, all day conversations, lust, apocalypses, new days, never-ending light.

Meeting my mother and hoping she’ll like you but I already know it will go bad but you're here to stay and she warms up to you soon 

Ifs, whats, yeses, nos, maybes, thens, nevers, always.

All more and more petrifying yet alluring 

I'm not asking you to love me 

I'm too afraid that it'd scare you off

But I want at least one of these to go through your mind

Because they seem to never leave mine.

Oh J

Even when I try to leave

You pull me back. 

Perhaps if I was a better poet, you’d like me for.