Friday, March 25, 2016

Sunnybrooke


SUNNYBROOKE NURSING HOME- MORNING
A sprawling sitting room filled with elderly people. Large couches, plush chairs, and round tables fill the area that, despite the amount of people, is oddly hushed. 
ALICE is sitting in a large chair, her grandfather CHUCK sitting opposite her. Several nurses are seen milling around the area, tending to the older patrons and a large TV is playing an old western program in the background. A glass cage filled with birds is seen in the corner. 
ALICE
(smiling, but with worry in her eyes)
Have you been outside yet today, grandpa?
CHUCK
(big, bright eyed smile)
Oh yeah. I went down to the lake this morning. Caught a fish this big!
Chuck holds his arms two feet apart to show the size of his fish.
ALICE
(nodding)
Wow! Too bad Ricky wasn’t with you. He would have loved that.
CHUCK
(Looking confused)
Your brother was there. How else do you think these old arms could reel in such a catch?
ALICE
(Her fist tightens against her leg)
Right, I forgot. 
CHUCK
(Smiling happily)
Got to take the fish to your grandmum. God, that woman sure knows how to fry up a catfish!
ALICE
(Voice strained and eyes sad)
Yeah, I-
A nurse wearing purple scrubs interrupts, a thin smile stretched across her face. 
NURSE
Alice, it’s so good to see you. Can I talk to you for just a moment?
Alice glances at her grandfather before nodding and standing from her chair to follow the nurse a few feet away. 
NURSE
(voice hushed, looking concerned)
He’s getting worse. 
ALICE
(voice also quiet, sad)
I can see that. Does he even know where he is?

Yacht At Sea

Setting: A large yacht at sea. It is the middle of the night and the waters are calm. The sound of water are heard lapping against the side of the boat and the occasional fish swimming up to the surface. 

Jack is sitting above deck on a small bench, a lumpy brown pillow case placed beside him. 

Jack (to himself): You’ve really done it now, man. (pause as he looks over the sea) Like stealing a boat is going to get you out of the trouble you’re already in. (the wind picks up, rattling the sail and he pats the lumpy pillowcase next to him) At least you got what you’ve always wanted. Even if, I give it a week, before I’m caught. Drug back to shore and thrown in prison for the rest of my pathetic life. It was worth it, though. 

A shuffling sound is heard below deck, followed by a loud bang and Jack leaps to his feet as MARY ascends the stairs. She is an older woman with white-grey hair curling around her shoulders and wrapped up in a light pink bathrobe, matching fluffy slippers on her feet. 

Mary (speech slightly slurred): What in the hell is going on? 

Jack (surprised): Wha- who are you?

Mary (scowling): Who am I? This is my boat you’re taking on a joyride, mister! (she glances around the boat, eyes falling on the sail) Good god, how you even managed it is a damn mystery, you don’t even know how to attach the sail to the mast track!

Mary sets about correcting the position of the sail as Jack watches her silently. When she is finished she moves across the deck to stand at the wheel before kneeling down beside it and opening a small hatch. She shuffles around for a moment before pulling out a large bottle.

Mary: As long as we’re out here, we might as well have a drink.

Jack: What? Are you crazy you old broad? 

Mary pauses.

Mary: I don’t think so. Now, this is some high class bourbon. Old Rip Van Winkle bourbon, mind you. 

Mary cracks the top of the bottle and fetches two glasses.

Jack (sighing exasperatedly and sitting back on the bench): I don’t want any bourbon, lady. What were you doing on this boat, anyway? I thought it was empty.

Mary (shoving a glass of bourbon into his hand): I live on this boat. Well, mostly. I have a house but (pause) There’s just something about the sea, I can’t get away from it. 

Jack: I hate the sea.

Mary: Good thing to escape to somewhere you hate. You’re not a very bright one, hm? 

Jack (laughs, knocks back his drink): Nope.

Mary (angry): That bourbon is meant to be sipped! Not sloughed down your gullet like some swine! 

Jack: Listen, lady. I wasn’t planning on you being on this boat. This complicates things. Is there any way I could, I don’t know, drop you off at some port? Make you walk the plank? Cause I really don’t think you wanna be around when I’m found. 

Mary (laughs): I’ve seen enough in my life not to be scared of you. This is my boat, and a captain always goes down with her vessel. I might not have been expecting this little escapade, but I can’t say it’s unwelcome. I can’t remember the last time I had an honest to god high seas adventure. 

Jack: This isn’t what I’d call adventure. I pretty much kidnapped you, you know? 

Mary: I’d like to see you try to kidnap me, boy. I may be old, but this body has still got some fight in it. 

Suddenly, the boat rocks heavily, sending Jack and Mary sprawling across the floor. 

Jack (scared): What was that?

Mary gets up and squints over the side of the boat, pulling a small flashlight out of her bathrobe and shining it on the water below. 

Mary: Shark.

Jack (loudly): A shark?!

Mary: Yup. Big one too if it’s able to send Big Betty rocking. 

Jack (nervous): What do we do?

Mary: Nothing, you idiot. It’s a shark, not a kangaroo. It’s not going to jump on deck with us and try to commandeer the boat. 

Mary (suddenly): Oh shoot, my fish tank!

Mary quickly disappears below deck. Jack, confused, follows her. 

Mary: Thank goodness, my babies are okay. Aren’t you, sweetums? (makes cooing noises at fish tank)

Jack (smiles): Really? You have fish, on a boat, in the sea? 


Mary: I’m heading to the galley to rustle up some grub. Feel free to continue to mope above deck. 

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Portfolio One






Creative Writing Portfolio
Avarie Groves
1111-01





















Page
1………………………………………………………………………………Note to Instructor

Page
2…………………………………………………………………………………Dock

Page
3-4………………………………………………………………………………Papa

Page
5-6………………………………………………………………………………Flashing Memories

Page
7-8………………………………………………………………………………Patchwork Man

Page
9-13…………………………………………………………………………….What Changes Us











Page 1
Note to Instructor
            In the revised versions of my poems I strived to make changes that eliminated unnecessary words or phrases and focused on concrete nouns. In my poem ‘Dock’ I eliminated some vague expressions and tried to center the feeling of the poem. When doing peer reviews the biggest feedback I got about this poem was that the imagery seemed a little vague, so I concentrated on bringing the feeling to life with more concrete imagery. In my poem ‘Papa’ I changed around the composition of the poem to give it a better flow. It is less choppy and I feel like it tells the story behind it much more efficiently with the changes I made. For the poem ‘Flashing Memories’ I got rid of a lot of unnecessary words. It my first draft of this poem I was focusing on trying to keep each line of each stanza within the same length, and I sacrificed a lot of imagery to do. So in my revised version I cut out a lot of redundancy and unneeded words, worked on adding in some alliteration to a few lines to give it a better flow, and overall tried to get my message across in a shorter, more refined way. My poem ‘Patchwork Man’ I tried to focus a lot on sound to draw it together. The first draft was lacking the flow that I really wanted, so I reworded a lot of it while keeping the same feeling story. I was really aiming for the way the words sound together, especially since it’s got a lot of quick, short lines. For my creative nonfiction piece I added a lot of sensory details tried to focus more on scene versus summary. My original draft felt too much like I was telling my story instead of showing it, so I expanded in a lot of places and tried to give a better feel to the story. I hope that my message comes across better and the sensory details are enough to give the reader an image of what is happening.

            My writing has definitely changed so far in this course. Reading poems out of our book and being given writing prompts from them really challenged me in my writing. It was useful to see how other authors incorporate different variations of sound in their writing and then trying to find a unique way to do it for myself. Being challenged to write nearly every day will make everyone a better writer, no matter what level they are on, and I feel like that has definitely pushed my writing skill to another level. In doing the creative nonfiction piece I really had to stop myself from telling and learn how to show with my writing, and this was something I had never considered before. I would love for my writing to continue to grow from this experience- I really have a passion for writing. Honestly, I would love to have something published one day. Maybe not a complete novel, but it is something that has interested me my entire life and I’ve had a lot of encouragement from past teachers and my family. So, I really hope that my writing grows in a way that I can learn how to incorporate all of the things you have taught us thus far in class into my own writing.

            In the next units I am really nervous about playwriting. I took a creative writing class in high school where we had to write a play and I feel like I did not do particularly well at it. But I am hoping that we will learn some techniques to make it fun and to better myself in it. Short fiction is always fun, but I have a horrible tendency of letting my writing run away with me and taking things a little past the definition of ‘short’. So hopefully I can learn to rein myself in and focus just on the details I need to in my writing, instead of going off onto tangents that tend to grow into something entirely different.



Page 2

Dock

He called me, fire dancing just behind his words.
A tangled-up love pulling his strings
And a brimming desperation to him
That echoed through me.
How could I say no?
We met at the muddy side of a dock,
The waters beneath it shimmering quietly.
Night filled it with muted colors,
But was unable to quell the noise of creaking boards under our feet.
Wild gestures painted smoke,
Slowly spiraling from the tip of a grape flavored cigar.
My eyes transfixed at the gap of rough, thick fingers.
Wide and strong and kind.
And then my world tilted,
Focused solely on his earthy smile
On his open, earnest face
On his hands, shoulders, jaw-line.
And then it straightened again-
Pulled forward, stuttering, and crashing to a halt
In his eyes filled up with pain
For someone else.




Page 3

Papa

Thick and sticky red sugar
Covers my plump face.
Popsicle situated in my left hand as
A wide and innocent smile
Stretches across young skin.
Little fingers rest on papa’s knee
As he beams at the top of my head.
His grey sweatshirt is covered in dark paint stains
And so are my palms,
But not my bright pink watermelon jacket.
We painted the deck beneath us,
Red juices now running down my chin
Plopping softy on the wood
As nana snaps our picture
And fusses around to clean my face.
When she walks away,
To grab a new washcloth,
Papa leans down to me;
Wraps his large, rough fingers around mine-
“You done good.”
My teeth show as my lips stretch over them
All stained red.
The expression dies quickly
When I see my mom’s car.
Friday nights were always spent here,
Page 4
Letting nana clean my messes
And falling asleep on papa at night.
“Not tonight.”
Is all she says
Her words cropped and short.
As she drags me away
Papa calls goodbye,
Holding his sadness behind large glasses and scratchy cheeks.

It wasn’t until much later in life
I realized my grandparents were always better parents.

















Page 5

Flashing Memories

I remember memories of my past in brief seconds-
Fleeting like the grand flash of a firework
And I watch them trickle away just the same.

I remember papa asking to help plant his garden
He made a perfect little hole in the ground
And I packed it with green pepper seeds, covered it with dirt.
It stops.

I remember Elaine and me; barefoot in my grandma’s kitchen
Flipping pancakes with a plastic spatula
Halfway through belting out Sweet Caroline
It stops.

I remember watching documentaries with my dad
Stupid things about snakes and Noah’s ark
And when they’re explaining the mechanics of poisonous fangs
It stops.

I remember my roommates yelling at me, again
As we stand in the puddle of our flooded basement
And when I open my mouth to respond
It stops.

I remember getting drunk with Gunnar in our apartment
Page 6
His friend so flexible with his fake ID
And when I go to give him a whiskey-laced kiss
It stops.

I remember Water Street, Egret Court, Pine Street, Sunset Trail, Tripp Street
My grandparents, parents, friends and husband
Each place filled with those brief, flashing moments.





















Page 7

Patchwork Man

My mother would pull up my covers,
Kiss me good bye as she tuned my tiny radio and
Leave me in my island of blankets to let the light die.
Soft music would glide through the room-
Ariel and Belle singing me to sleep.

In my dreams
I would wake
Drenched in fright.
A figure with
fiery eyes
And bright, red hair
Made of twine thread
Perched at my side.
Lying on the blanket
My mother made me.
His body of
Spliced patches
A crude sight;
Little red stripes
On white cloth
And yellow stars
Sown into blue.
His mouth would open to
A garish smile,
Page 8
And he’d whisper
The sweet
Childish lyrics
Sliding through my radio.
I would clench my blanket
My mother made me
tight around my neck.
I would close my eyes
Will the sight of him away.
Patch by patch
He would comply
Slowly disappearing.
My mother
Would run to my side
And I would
Close
My
Eyes
And she would disappear.










Page 9
What Changes Us

            “I know you like him.”

            Her words sunk into me like a poison, racing through my body to ignite that sick feeling of anxiety in my stomach. I took a moment to notice how her words were doing that to me more and more often lately, before I glanced up to meet her eyes.
            It was a Saturday night; a busy time for any restaurant, but most especially for a sports bar. Jessica was standing in front of me, her tiny frame drawing a foreboding aura stemming from the coldness lurking beyond her large, brown eyes.
            I met Jessica six months ago- a year after I finished high-school- when she started working at the bar, the same one we were both fixed in the middle of as she held me with her gaze. We became friends easily, mostly due to the fact that I had become estranged from my only two friends from school. The fact that we worked in a fast-paced environment where people weren’t too keen to help each other might have had something to do with it as well. It was nice to know a couple of people would have your back. Unless, of course, you ended up finding out those people were their own special brands of crazy. But since high school I had started losing myself- I had no idea where my life was going and I wasn’t going to college, just stuck at the same bar I had been working at since I was a Junior. I felt like I was in a limbo, and Jessica at least gave me something to do to occupy my mind- smoking cigarettes, dancing in clubs, and dating too many guys. It was far from safe, but it was fun in a reckless kind of way that you can only get behind when you are young and stupid.
            Her words were echoing through me. I know you like him. I shifted uneasily, the three Cokes I was balancing in my left hand sloshing over the sides of their glasses and trickling down my wrist.
            “Parker?” I questioned hesitantly. I had gathered that Jessica was a self-conscious person and maybe a little jealous of my relationship with her boyfriend. To be fair, we had known each other for two years before they even met. We were never more than strictly platonic though, and I’m sure I had reassured Jessica of that more than a few times. “Wha-”
            “I really don’t care.” Her voice was flat. My hands were getting sticky from the soda. “We’ve only been together for a few months, I’d rather have it end now than be drug out. You guys should just be together. I’m really not going to be upset about it.”
            She had inflicted a calm tone in her words. The kind of calm a crazy person inflicts to convince people they’re sane.
            “Parker and I are not like that. You know that, Jess. We’re just close friends.”
            Her eyes narrowed, frown deepened, and when she spoke next her voice was wavering.
            “I don’t understand why if you’re really just “close friends” that I’ve had to hear that so many times from both of you.” I could feel my face melting into a look of confusion. I wanted to say, ‘because
Page10
you have to bring it up so many times?’, but held my tongue, and she was barreling on. “You stay at his house all the time, and I know you’ve slept in his bed.”
            Table five-eighteen need their Cokes and I had drinks waiting at the bar for table five-eleven. Having this kind of conversation in the middle of the restaurant, in the middle of a rush no less, was certainly not ideal. Jessica didn’t seem keen on letting me go anywhere though so I sighed, feeling my anxiety build as I tried to filter everything through my mind. I had drank a little too much and Parker, trying to ‘protect my virtue’ -his words, not mine- from his friend Tony, told me to just sleep in his bed. If anything it was the work of a slightly overbearing older brother than a secret affair.
            Apparently this wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Or, she just really liked to find a reason to be dramatic. Or maybe I really was in the wrong. I couldn’t find the room in my mind to focus on it all so I pushed it aside as she stormed away and I threw myself back into my work.
            The night drug on impossibly slow. On more than one occasion I happened to stumble into the break room only to find the occupants deathly silent and watching me with expressions ranging from curious to appalled. With Jessica at the center of them, wiping thick tears from her cheeks. I felt tension uncoiling from my muscles as I watched her collect her tips for the night and head home; only to bubble back up slightly when Parker walked in not half an hour later.
            I nearly ran to him, ignoring the odd stares everyone was giving us. He gave me a quick smile and launched into what he and Jessica had talked about before he got there. He had worked everything out, of course. He was so much better at that kind of stuff than me- better with words and feelings and, quite frankly, emotional girls.
            Everything was great after that, for a while- people forgot about our gossip after a few days and Jessica and I returned to normal. It was a little frustrating when she would continue to mention things off-handedly about Parker and I. But she knew that we had helped each other through some thick times, and I understood her feeling left out sometimes. I tucked away the incident that night as her just being self-conscious. What I should have done was taken it as a warning.
            We moved in together after a few months; Jessica and me and another mutual friend from work. There were a couple incidents over those few months where Jessica had found a reason to become upset and emotional again, mainly a huge fight with her and Parker over him not spending enough time with her, but other than that things were okay. I was young and impulsive and the notion of moving out of my dad’s place and into my own house was irresistible. Too bad it rapidly turned into the most toxic situation I had ever put myself into. It was nothing but underage drinking in a run-down section eight house filled with crappy furniture and emotional women.
            It was late one night, and we had invited some friends from work over after we had finishing closing the restaurant down. We were sitting around a beat up piece of wood we called our kitchen table, music blaring from the corner and empty bottles of Captain Morgan lining the countertops, when someone mentioned something that made Jessica go ballistic.
            “A bunch of us were out last weekend,” Amanda was a sweet, red-headed girl a few years older than us, falling into the category of co-workers that could drink. “We were at Tap on Fifth. It was fun, I think a couple of people might have had a bit too much fun.” Her voice was light and joking as she glanced at Jessica. “Erin and Parker were dancing together, it was pretty funny. I think they both had a bit too much to drink.”

            Page 11
Jessica’s face flipped instantly from slightly tipsy to thoroughly pissed. “What?”
            Amanda flinched at her harsh tone. “Uh, yeah. It was no big deal, I mean they were getting a little, uh, close, but they were just tipsy and having fun. It wasn’t even for that long- just one song and then we were all back at our table.”
            I knew Jessica was self-conscious, that much had become obvious to me during our time spent together. The full extent and ramifications of it I had not had the pleasure of fully exploring yet however. So, when she proceeded to spend the entire night bawling hysterically into her frozen margarita, threatening to kill herself, and throwing a vase across the room with hulk-like strength, it really did shock me.
            After that, I lived like I was strapped to a live bomb for three months. And every time something went slightly wrong, it exploded; our basement flooded, and she stomped around in the water, tears in her eyes and screaming about what a mess her life was. I forgot to pick up my bowl of cereal from the living room and she told me I was a horrible roommate; messy and inconsiderate. Parker went to a bar after work and I had to hug her while she cried for hours about how he didn’t really care about her and listen to veiled comments that suggested it was my fault. I’ve had anxiety my whole life, but I can’t remember a time that it was worse than when I was living with Jessica. Fortunately, after three months I was gone, because I met Gunnar.
            Gunnar was sweet and innocent, and kind of a dork. He became an escape and even though I was yelled at most of the time for sneaking out of the house to go see him- being accused of not caring about Jessica because I spent so much time with him- he helped me gain perspective. He showed me love and what true friendship was at a time in my life when I had almost completely lost my grasp on both. I think Jessica hated it. I know she hated him.
            “Gunnar! If you park that stupid truck in the drive way one more time, I’m going to run you over with it!” Jessica slammed the front door behind her, face tinted purple behind her tan skin from anger.
            Gunnar had an archaic Chevy truck that he made a habit out of parking in the drive way at our place. Not to be rude, but because he tended to be a little oblivious.
            “Sorry, Jess. I’ll go move it.” Gunnar made to get up from the living room couch and I sighed. Who cared if he parked in the drive way? She had only come home to get ready for work and would be gone again in an hour.
            “Don’t worry about it, I parked in the street.” She spat, eyes narrowing as she watched him leave to go move it anyway. “Why is he so inconsiderate?”
            I flinched as she rounded on me. “I really don’t think he means to-“
            “I know he does it on purpose, just to piss me off!” She cut me off, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. “And you don’t even care! God, you’ve changed so much since you started dating him. I don’t understand why people have to change so much.”
            She retreated to her room and I did the same, curling up in my bed as I waited for Gunnar to come back in. He found me under my comforter and pulled my back against his chest. I was breathing deeply, trying to calm myself. This definitely wasn’t the worst of Jessica’s outbursts, but it was becoming harder for me to control my anxiety as it was. Having Gunnar there helped, his large body enveloping me, scratchy cheek resting against mine.

            Page 12
He held my hand, stroking his calloused thumb over my palm.
            “You don’t need to put up with this. Why don’t you just leave?”
            So I did. Gunnar started school in Iowa two months later and I went with him. We lived together for almost a year when I got pregnant and we had to move back home. It was still two years before I saw Jessica again.
            I was with Parker’s sister, Alexis, at an event she had won tickets for on the radio. It was on a big boat on the lake with food and dancing, but Alexis and I spent most of our time on the top deck, sipping our Jack and Coke’s and using the time to catch up with each other. Having a one-year-old son gives you a lot less time to see your friends, especially when they were in school full time, like Alexis was.
            Alexis also loved to gossip about her brother, especially to me since I knew him so well and could keep up with all the crazy stories she told about him. She was recounting the story, from her point of view, of why Parker and Jessica broke up. Given, they had broken up nearly a year ago, but were still somewhat on-again off-again until just a few months prior. I knew all of this from Parker; we kept in touch but it was never quite like those years when we were both lost, helping each other through relationships and spending late nights at his place watching sappy rom coms together. Things changed when you had a kid.
            We had moved on to discussing Alexis’ classes, she was studying to become a civil engineer, when we saw her. We had joked about it before we got there, how funny and awkward it would be if, by some strange chance, we ran into Jessica. Somehow it wasn’t as funny and three times as awkward when it actually happened.
            “I have to say hi.” Alexis sighed, watching her move through the crowd a few yards away from us.
            “You really don’t.” I replied flatly, chewing on the end of the neon pink straw in my drink.
            It didn’t matter because Jessica saw us and rushed over. Her eyes were glazed and her cheeks flushed, indicating she had maybe drank just a little too much.
            I gave her a brief hug as she sat with us, launching into a story about her new boyfriend- Jared or James or something like that.
            “How is Parker?” She asked cheerfully, like she didn’t know that they had broken up because she slept with his brother Mike and sent him down a familiar path of depression.
            “He’s really good.” I replied, voice tight with a protective edge. As much as Parker could play the overbearing older brother, I found my times to reciprocate. “He has a new job from his degree, living in a new place. He’s doing really well.”
            She looked up at me, eyes large and glassy and face open. “Are you in love with him?”
            The question hit me hard, and I’m sure I froze for more than a few seconds. Anger, confusion, and a huge chunk of anxiety that I had left with her were crashing over me. I felt small and nervous again, in the blink of an eye. I reminded myself of Gunnar and my son, pulling away sharply from the emotions of my past and grounding myself firmly in the present.
            Page 13
Alexis scoffed into her drink. “I’m pretty sure she’s engaged.”
            Jessica shrugged, no trace of embarrassment readable in her expression. It was as if she was hoping for it- hoping to be right after all this time despite the fact that I had a kid and, practically, a husband.
            “Gunnar is great.” I started after a minute, moving the conversation on. I was past justifying myself to her. “He starts a new job in a couple weeks. And I’m starting school again in the fall.”
            The conversation veered away from Parker and we only talked for a bit longer before running out of things to say. Jessica excused herself and went back to her sister, who she had come with.
            Alexis and I let out a breath at the same time and my eyes locked on her.
            “Not much has changed there, huh?” Alexis shook her head at my words, a small smile in her eyes.
            Though not much had changed for her, thankfully everything had changed for me. All that time I had spent taking her verbal abuse, making me feel useless and stupid, had been repaired. That worry of what I was going to do with my life after high school, of having no direction or purpose, had been stitched together with my new family and really, if it wasn’t for her I’m not sure if it ever would have happened. You can’t have the good without your fair share of bad, and I don’t think I would have appreciated my new life without my old one.

            I wasn’t hit with this realization until later that night, sitting at home with my son curled in my lap and Gunnar sprawled across our large couch next to me. Maybe I held my son a little tighter. Maybe I kissed Gunnar a little longer, and let him soothe away the last of my worries.