....an exercise i did encorporating a variety of objects into a piece of writing...
She awakes abruptly at 6 am. Sophie has awoken at this time for as long as she can remember, since before her husband’s early death back in 1992, yet this morning is different to the last, and the one before. She puts the kettle on as normal and stares through the net curtains at a starling pecking at bits of fat on the feeder outside. In a T-shirt and shorts too cold for the current climate, that Mr Stephens opposite is cleaning his new Ford Something-or-other with great vigor. She frowns disapprovingly and watches his lascivious gaze follow a young mum, barely 15, as she pushes a tot past the house and disappears up the alleyway towards the shops. His attention is dragged back by his three year old son Gary running out with a message from mum and he yells back towards the house, “In a MINUTE!!”. The starling flies away though Sophie doesn’t notice. Her eyes lazily wander down towards the mouth of the cul-de-sac, but there she squints without her glasses.
She’s awoken from her trance by the sound of the whistling kettle coming to the boil. As she fills a pot of tea the steam rises up and clings to the old post-cards pinned to the wall above the stove. The corners of each card have over time, curled over to reveal a yellowing rear, and the beaches of France, Spain and Greece now carry the permanent matt finish left by the grease and steam of past good dinners. As usual she walks to the old mahogany bureau, but not for the jam-jar of sharp pencils or her notebook. Today she picks up her spectacles and a somewhat tatty business card, re-reading the information on the back.
Time passes by, as do her thoughts, which take her from breakfast, through a wave of excitement which slowly dissipates with the arrival of the postman, and returns her to the armchair to twiddle with the radio. As Woman’s Hour finishes, the doorbell rings and she is filled with a surge of energy. The kindness of her family! She answers the door and receives the laptop with the glee of a child at Christmas time. Setting it down on the bureau heavily, she stands back nervously looking at the box. She’s not sure whether to open it now or wait. She makes another cup of tea and stares a little longer at its angular form. Then decisively she slips a letter opener down each side and pulls up the lid, releasing the scent of newness with a puff; plastic, technology and polystyrene. It’s unfamiliar and daunting but she strokes her hand across the top of the laptop computer affectionately and purses her lips together in a smile. Her dark eyes sparkle for noone to see. With immediacy she resolves to contact her daughter to help her get going and reaches for the phone. After a few minutes there is an answer, it’s Susan’s secretary; “...she’s in a meeting and can’t come to the phone right now”.
“Please can you tell her I said thankyou so much for the computer, give her my love and tell her to call me?”
“Certainly”
“Bless you dear, goodbye”
Replacing the receiver Sophie picks up the jar of pencils and notepad from the bureau and makes her way back to the armchair.|
Written by Josie (2785 comments posted) 10th April 2008 | | Nobody really cares for Sophie. It's worse than dreadful isn't it? What good is it sending a present for somebody's birthday when you can't even spend time to say the words "Happy Birthday Mum - and how are you?" Do you think this is the way of the world today Emma? |
Written by emma777 (21 comments posted) 10th April 2008 | | there are many with kindness and love too. but sadly, i think there are a few too many lonely people out there, and a few too many busy ones... |
Written by Asferthecat (834 comments posted) 10th April 2008 | | An interesting exercise, you have managed to combine the variety of objects to make a poignant story. |
Written by stevetroster (1549 comments posted) 10th April 2008 | Hello Emma, you’re going to hate me, but…
There is a great deal of this that sounds like a list of events as opposed to a developing story and I must admit that, come the end, I was left thinking “so what”.
There are a few typos and grammatical errors that a proof read should be able to sort out.
The kettle may have boiled, but not my cup of tea. Sorry.
All the best,
Steve.
|
Written by Phil (6713 comments posted) 14th April 2008 | There's much I like about this - and as an exercise you probably did rather well. I love this line: and the beaches of France, Spain and Greece now carry the permanent matt finish left by the grease and steam of past good dinners
As a coherent piece, it does lack a little. There s power in her daughter's lack of interest - but the other sub plot - the writing - which you end on so well - could be introduced a little earlier.
Phil |
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