He gave me hope I wouldn’t be alone forever; Being involved with him made me feel more alone than I felt before.
A voice, a non existent mystery; facial features, a 2D image viewed on a cell phone; height and build, not a way to tell.
Typed font on a little blue lit screen. Two weeks of build up – life, family, careers, Manhattan – day in, day out, for 14 days.
“Are you on the train?”
“How was your day today?”
“How is your night going?”
“Have any fun plans for the weekend?”
Face-to-face with a live human being who moves, speaks, breathes – a sly smile here, intense eye contact, lively hand gestures engrossed in conversation.
Two strangers connect to one another with senses that experience real things.
Thoughts buzz – Did I talk too much? Did I bore him, do we “get” one another?, What does he think of me? Do I smell? Am I annoying? Does he find me as attractive in person as he did when he liked the 2D photo of me?
Have I told him far too many intimate details of my day to day life, nothing left to say and nothing left to guess, no mystery, no interest, no spark, nothing in common, defunct attraction …
The fleshy realness of another human being. An alcohol infused evening, in bed by midnight on a Thursday. The night ends. Silence from the other end.
Time, effort, suspense – a lovely evening puffs into thin air like it never happened.
When Tricia goes out with boys, they smother her inside (or against) parked cars in parking lots. No matter which way she meets them: at bars, through friends, at work, online; the dates always felt the same. The lavish attention caused her lips to twitch, eyes to wander, mind to freeze. Each interaction linked together into an endless stream of empty romantic moments, and yet she could not stop, not even if she wanted to
In mid-October I decided I needed a positive outlet to release all of the thoughts racing in my mind. I put my monthly commuter pass to good use and added another Manhattan travel day to my week – 5 days for work, 1 Sunday for a Creative Writing 101 course at Gotham Writer’s workshop.
The first class was a bit awkward. Nobody spoke to one another. Our teacher had a Southern twang, a white ponytail and a hint of eccentricity. Each week we learned a new topic: OIL, non-fiction, fiction, genre, getting better; and after each class we would complete a homework assignment using concepts we learned from each topic. At the start of every Sunday, we would get a writing prompt, read our pieces aloud, and give feedback/constructive criticism. It was a lot of fun.
Since the course has ended I’ve written more short stories. I enjoyed the things i produced in class as well. I’m proud of it. I also noticed places where I can improve I switch up tenses often, I didn’t notice that was one of my habits. I also am obsessed with filler words – just, like, he, she – also i use tons of “was.” Writing comes somewhat easily to me but it really isn’t so easy. It’s all about shaping and molding sentences to make it sound attractive, to keep a reader’s attention, it’s all about making the reader like you.
I also learned about my ability to paint a picture of the world through observation. I enjoyed the comments my teacher contributed regarding my performance in the class.I found it to be a great experience all around.
To get better at a writer, you need to write. When things get negative – write, when your mind starts to wander – write, when you feel empty inside – write, when you try and look for outside distractions to make you happy – – write!!! When you’re looking to feel loved and supported – write. Keep it moving, keep on going. Do what you’re good at.
We live in the age of information with conveniences such as e-readers and the Internet. Personally, I get overwhelmed with how much is available to us. For me there is nothing better than the feel of a real book in my hands. I adore books because they contain specific information. When you read a physical book there is no aimlessly wandering around to the next webpage, no staring at bright screens. You can’t text and read a book (you could but if you are I bet you’re not paying much attention). Books have beautiful art on the cover, they take time to be produced. They aren’t so quick, simple and easy like everything else in our world today. Reading requires an effort.