Writing Exercise- The Darker Path (2)

Posted on by April-Rose Appleby

Chapter Two

I can’t put my finger on what it is I’m missing. I know Eddy and Turner were hiding something. I just want to know what. A while after I finally manage to fall asleep I am woken up by some stupid idiot trying to call me, of course in the early hours of the morning who bothers to look at the caller I.D? I couldn’t recognize the voice “I’m tired, I’m so tired of hiding, you’re tired of hiding too. I could see it in your eyes.” Finally the fog lifted “Turner? What the hell? Do you even know what the time is?” He apologized for waking me and asked if we could meet to talk properly. Too tired to pay attention I told him to call me when I was awake and he was sober.

Here is the thing, every night for almost a year now, I have tossed and turned throughout the night, for one reason; the reoccurring nightmare. Every night he is standing in the hall; hurt and angry standing next  to the last box of his stuff. Lilly stood beside me, her arm around my shoulder as I tell him to leave, again, that I was never a possession, I was never his possession, that  never will be. I can see the hurt transform into rage. Cold, callous, angry screeching rage blaming Lilly for poisoning me, calling me a weak, spineless prude. Berating my values, for putting everyone, family and friends before him. For not sleeping with him. He stood vowing that the next man in my life will be the last, the moment that ring is off my finger; either on the dresser or another mans hand he will be coming back for me.

But that’s not just a dream or a nightmare. Its a memory of my last relationship with Mark. It is what made me get the courage to leave, to leave this house, the past and memories behind.

At about lunch time my phone started to leap into action. True to his word Turner had called back. “Talk damn it” it was Eddy’s voice hissing words at Turner, “whats the worst that could happen” he hissed. Had they actually forgotten I could hear them? “Oh, I don’t know I could go nuts and bite her.” Taking my cue I cleared my throat. “Sorry I got distracted, I just wondered, well, would you like to go for a drink tonight?”

“I’m meeting Lilly at the bar tonight, she’s dragging me to complain, I mean she wants to whinge, I mean sh wants to talk about her lunch date.”
“Oh, no worries maybe another-”
“That wasn’t a no, I mean, I couldn’t stop any knights in shining armour wishing to save me from Lilly’s dating woes, I would be eternally grateful.”
“An eternity is a long time.”
“I know”
“I am sure I could arrange that. Is the armour compulsory?” I couldn’t help but smile, even while the estate agent showed a weird looking couple around. “Depends if your brave enough?”

Chapter Three

By the time I arrived at the bar Lilly had snagged us a booth and a couple of menus. I just counted my blessings that I didn’t have to cook. Lilly is an absolute pain in the ass to cook for, only roasts and very plain, very simple, very dull cooking gets eaten other then that its tantrums and refusing to eat it. Lilly started on a monologue about how frustrating her boss was. Mainly because she wasn’t in his pants yet. Mean while I had begun singing soundtracks to myself, I just sat there nodding as she went on about the boy on front desk flirting with her and she dived into the ever so dull story of her date. Thankfully seconds later I sensed someone standing beside me, “mind if we join you?” Not waiting for an answer he told me to “budge up” I slid over as Turner sat beside me. Lilly reluctantly followed suit for Eddy while she pouted again. “What happened to the armour?”

“It was all tarnished”

“What a shame.” Eddy didn’t seem to be happy sat next to Lilly as she resumed dominating conversation as she complained continuously about her lunch date. Even after food arrived we suffered through the constant drama with no interlude, no break, no pause. Eddy rather foolishly decided to join a side, he was team “poor guy who dated her”, had he been wiser he would have kept it a secret thought. He was never going to be the firs to try shining a light on a different angle causing more frustration. Turner smiled “I see your ring is on the right, you haven’t touched it once. So, what is it you are hiding from?”

“Why are you so curious hmm? It’s just living on the right today, so what is it you are hiding from then?” I held my gaze until he spoke, “you have beautiful eyes” unimpressed I rolled my eyes, “flattery will get you no where.” He took a sip of his drink before we spoke again. “I’m not hiding anymore, I have learned that I can control myself. You surprise me, you see right through me, you call me on it, not many have the guts to do that. I am afraid, of you, that you will see the darkness in me and run away, I don’t want you to run, even though you should, I don’t deserve forgiveness, or reprieve, but I some how just want some kind of acceptance. I have done some truly terrible things, mistakes, but I have changed.” Momentarily petrified yet some how relaxed, I look over at Eddy and Lilly bickering about dating to busy to pay attention. Struggling to read Turner I finally speak, “we all have our demons you know. And hiding behind your mask won’t save you in the end.” He nodded and lent in slowly before kissing me gently. “you do realize I won’t keep calling you Turner?” He smiled, “really?”

“Really, I much prefer Sebastian” I saw him flinch, “at least shorten it to Seb.”

“well I suppose thats better then calling you Bass?” The conversation between Lilly and Eddy had fizzled out as they now started pulling kissing faces at us. After a while I turned to face Seb and spoke quietly. “I suppose, I should be afraid of you, but I’m not. I’m tired of being afraid of shadows. Whatever the secret is, keep it, we all have secrets. At some point we have to face our fears, whatever they are.”
“Hey Demi, their twat of a landlords selling the place out from under them, do you know any flats or anything?”
“I’ll keep an eye out, Lilly you have gravy down your top.” I laughed as she started a whole new drama on gravy.

Writing Exercise- The Darker Path (1)

Posted on by April-Rose Appleby

Chapter One

Sodding typical. The moment Lilly goes off to the bathroom I end up feeling like a sitting duck in the room full of wolves. Well of course I’m avoiding eye contact with everyone here.  Instead I am focusing my attention on my ring, my little plain silver band ring, also known as my man repellent if its on the left hand ring finger. Of course it occasionally lives on the right hand so that I can’t ever loose it, that’s just ore trouble then it could ever be worth. To be honest most of this evening has been spent smiling and nodding. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve known Lilly for years but there is only so much patience for her constant bids for attention. For the most part she has been sat bitching and complaining about her latest failure of her dating venture. Proving exactly why I don’t date.

The gaps in mind numbing boredom have been filled by mild people watching, mainly staring at the door watching people come and go. The only mildly interesting, and I am being very generous with that term, people that have entered in the time its taken Lilly to explain for the eighth time that she thinks men are stupid; has been a particularly goofy, kind of nice-sh looking guy. Unfortunately his choice of company was his friend, a guy who seemed to exude that stupid “I’m the unsafe brooding guy that your parents warned you about” thing, the whole dark, dangerous douche bag kind of guy. At least I am not the only one wearing a mask tonight.

Call me cautious but I like to be aware of my surroundings so of course I twigged them shooting glances our way. If I didn’t know any better I would assume they were staring. Probably trying to guess if Lilly’s long hair is real or extensions, or just how few drinks it would take to get her attention.

Of course now she’s in the bathroom I hate sitting here at the bar waiting for her to come back. The supposedly “dangerous” looking one had made his way to the bar standing beside me, lightly pressed against me in the crowd while I try to ignore him, at least he uses manners when he speaks to bar staff. Not as much of a dick as I thought he was. He practically looked right through me when he spoke “Turner”, I stared blankly, as you do. “I mean, my name is Turner and you are?” I paused smiling to myself, trying to select the least sarcastic response I could muster, “waiting for my friend.” Thankfully Lilly appeared from the bathroom.

Lilly however, true to form did the one thing I didn’t want her to do, engage in conversation. She clearly fancied the pants off of him, it was clear as day. She became that shameless flirt she becomes around any moderately attractive guy. Fine he’s attractive that’s undeniable but still. “I see you had some company while I went for a pee, I’m Lilly, Lillian Mae, and who are you handsome?” I answered before he could open his mouth, “he’s leaving” giving Lilly a warning look that she was clearly intent on ignoring.

Turner invited us to join him and his friend, before I could decline Lilly had accepted before he had even finished asking. His friend must have picked up on my reluctance, possibly because Lilly practically dragged me over to the table, he laughed “don’t worry, we don’t bite.” Turner gave his friend the exact warning look I had shot at Lilly who had now placed herself on either side of the men, leaving my only option to be sat opposite Lilly who now seemed completely determined to get Turners attention.

I couldn’t resist a smirk as I resumed fiddling with my ring while I watched Lilly flirt mercilessly with Turner, who had avoided or shut down nearly all of Lilly’s flirtatious and incredibly suggestive questions. I could feel him staring at me. Watching me play uncomfortably with the ring while I maintained a vague but polite conversation with his friend, resisting the urge not to burst out laughing at Lilly’s increased frustration.

Turns out Turner’s friend name was Edward Harrison, even though he insisted that we call him Eddy, he seemed nice enough. I couldn’t resist a smirk when Turner told us his name, well proper name, Sebastian Turner, what possessed him to go round using just his surname I have no idea. No thanks to Lilly they now knew my name. Eddy was sweet about it “aww your name is really pretty, why didn’t you just say? Demetria Rose, its like a flower.” I raised my eyebrows and smiled politely “call me Demi, everyone does. So I have to ask, why go round by the surname? Is it another facade, a mask a mystery? Ir is it just to pick up girls? I have to say its not all that impressive, mysterious or as intimidating as it seems. Quite frankly the bad boy facade is a bit see through.”

Turner stared at me for a few seconds, “your ring, you hide behind it, I have seen you fiddle and play with it all night, I watched you swap hands to make yourself look taken when ever some poor guy even came close. If i had to guess, the only reason it’s not there right now is because its too late to change hands. Your hiding behind it, why? To avoid getting hurt? Drama, men or is it because you are hiding from something or someone? What’s made you so afraid that you hide in a room full of people? You only relaxed when you sat with us, when you watched your friend flirt shamelessly. Hell when you noticed that I wasn’t responding to her pathetic bids for attention you struggled not to smile, like now. You smiled your way through her frustration as she tried to raise her game. There’s a big difference between you and her, she demands attention and you run from it. Why? Lilly struggled to get my focus from you but you pay Eddy and I equal respect. You are different, a mystery never fully explained, you are different, not like her, this bar or this town. There’s something different about you, its in your eyes. You are hiding, why?”

Stunned trying to find the least insulting response I looked into his eyes for a moment. “You have hunger in your eyes. Not a normal hunger, not like the hunger I have seen, its like the ravaged hunger if a hunter. A dark hunger that you are trying to suppress, and hide.”  I sensed the quiet at the table as I watched and waited for Turners response. Lilly clearly in need of attention struck up a conversation with Eddy.  I gave up waiting for his response and watched Eddy as he tried to follow Lilly and her favorite topic of choice, men, particularly how messed up they all were, I smiled and rolled my eyes, letting myself relax a little.

Finally Turner spoke softer, “hiding seems to be a shared hobby, perhaps we have something in common.” His eyes dropped to my hands as I pushed the ring up securely on my right hand. “There is something strange about you, you aren’t like most men, what is it that I cant put my finger on?” He looked into my eyes as though he was attempting to read me, his beautiful eyes seemed to mirror my own, only for a moment. I could feel my heart racing, before I could speak Lilly handed Turner a piece of paper. I recognized the number scribbled on it, my own. Utterly mortified by her audacity I made our excuses , bidding them good night I dragged Lilly with me. Somehow our girls night had turned into an evening over taken by strangers.

 

Writing Exercises

Posted on by April-Rose Appleby

Okay, well, honestly I find writing, regularly, purposefully a struggle. I figured that perhaps adding some writing exercises to my routine may help. Then I figured if I do start the exercises, perhaps putting them on here wouldn’t do too much harm. After all the harmless fun of weightlifting words could be amusing for not only myself but if anyone crosses the page here.

Suggestions and prompts will be welcomed within reason.

The first task or exercise is to work on openings, fast paced or memorable, so perhaps the first few chapters of something. So I will be going wild… or not. This is perhaps moderation or restriction but I have a general idea of how I want the first one to look, the construction of the character, the shortness, the pace the productivity. It is about the tests I suppose of introduction, realism in an unrealistic world.

While I am here, I have to ask, as a reader it can be easy to fall in love with a character, as a writer it can be hard, you can write a character you don’t love but you need, when it comes to the time when you kill them off, has that love grown?

Personally, I had the experience recently of writing a character who had a purpose but had he been aside of the story and not a catalyst through choices, would I have loved him no? By the time it came to working it out hashing his death, I honestly shed a few tears. Possibly the result of characters I did love being devastated and partly because he had grown from acquaintance and insignificant to the bringer of the most radical changes to the characters. Through the path that took me as a writer from looking at this character as a useful being to help where I could not, to make the circumstance that bit better or that bit worse, when it comes to the death of such a character it became more then just a love for his usefulness. Like all characters he had taken a life of his own, he lived for a period of time in my head, and will do if I choose to unwind time to before “the incident” but as you finish a story, like when a character finishes his or her own journey there is a sense of loss and morning.

There will always be that moment or that day where things just seem sadder, at the closing lines to a moment you can let it all sink in and devour you. But there will be moments that make you so happy; unexpected moments or scenes of pure inspiration, those words you have heard time and time again in the recesses of your mind making an escape. Those moments where passion and inspiration takes over and the words that you write, are not just words they are this image inside your head, the colour of the sky, the setting sun, that moment of bliss when you can feel that same rush of joy or heartache as the character, you share in them completely, dissolving from being seperated by the unseen barrier and just being one with them. That moment that wonderful moment of complete understanding, that is what grew my passion for writing, that is where it all began.

Writing to me is so much more then just telling a story, it is deeply personal, especially in “Breathing Smog” it is the most personal honest thing I have written in my life. It has been the catalyst for everything, all the writing I currently do, the passion and excitement that gets poured into writing.

But writing has also been the most damaging thing in my life; as much joy and passion and excitement it has brought, it has also brought great pain, sorrow and heartache. Without mentioning the sleepless nights to their true extent, writing has helped me endure more pain then I thought possible. It has made me relive moments of pure hell and hatred, it has plagued my sleep, encouraged my darkest ideas and created the uncontrolled imagination just before bed when everything is quiet, there are two options; one being the spark of a brilliant idea for fixing something or making something completely new, or two that there is a monster or something in the darkness that I cannot see waiting to destroy me. Sometimes I think that monster is me. Writing is consuming, it takes your soul, it destroys your search engine, because you search the strangest of things, and it destroys how you see people at times.

What is their motivation? What is it they want or want to achieve? Why are they being kind? Is this really them or a pretense? Who are they? Who am I? Who am I when I am with them? Who do I want to be? Where do I want to be? What about them? What is their journey?

The perfect moments we write in the stories never happen to us, they are the dreams of our perfect moments, some of those tiny things we wish someone would say to us. While we ruin our readers expectations, we ruin our own, we can love unrealistically and live in the same way. Our hearts yearn for the impossible because the impossible is something we don’t understand or have never had but perfection is impossible.

Through writing, I have discovered the thing I love most about real life, its imperfections, our character flaws, the things that stop us from living in a world where we are the best we can be, perfection is failure. The great love I have is the things that stop us getting what we really want in life, love, and everything else. Through writing I learnt to analyse and read characters, their flaws and what will stop them getting what they want, I have learned to look through the writers eyes at my friends, I see their flaws and they are beautiful. Their beauty comes from their flaws and their mistakes, the things that hold them back, their challenges. Although sometimes I forget this, I judge them too harshly or I live in my own head too much and expect too much, I can fail to remind myself of what is stopping them from giving into what they want or what I think they want. Because I will always want to know more. I pry into my friends lives, a lot, I want to know everything about them, their perspectives, everything literally. It is what drives them mad, and me mad, but it also what helps them understand I care, I want to know how I can help them, or just a stranger who feels the same way. I want to do everything I can to help those I love but I want to extend that and help others.

Breathing smog was more then just the story of a couple of girls life, it was more then a story with an over-active opinionated narrator, it was more then a story about a rape, to me it was a story of survival, and challenge and it repeatedly made me ask myself, “who are you?”  and “what is it you hope to achieve?” The answer could be as simple as, everyone has a struggle even if things look perfect to the outside world, or it could be infinitely complicated.

That’s the thing, with writing there is the simple motivation and the complex which branches out into every world, every tiny detail or insignificant thing a connection with ourselves and our reality translated into our faults, failings, desires.

Exploring all of this using writing exercises and prompts is going to be the challenge, its a way of determining different echos of a voice and styles and characters and adventures that we love.

Breathing Smog

Posted on by April-Rose Appleby

So here’s some bonus information for Breathing Smog.

This was the first time I had taken the time to write, really write, sit down and type up something, it was the first time I had finished something. Complete follow through.

During this time I experienced and discovered a lot about myself I struggled honestly to write with clarity and understanding. It was a struggle to maintain an impartial narrative, at which point I must make it clear that the idea of being impartial failed. I used this as my first experience to experiment with the voice of an author.

It was a sincere struggle throughout to deliver the sensitivity of the subject with tact.

The characters however were hard to accomplish with integrity or lack of. The hidden unseen possibilities and motivations were a struggle to understand the complexity but it was the first true piece that I could be proud of.

My author page.

The truth of unemployment

Posted on by April-Rose Appleby

Unemployment. So many youths face it. It is depressing and demoralizing. It appears that it is assumed that people who are unemployed are too lazy to look for work. For some that is clearly untrue, there are some (myself included) who have regularly applied for over 50 or more jobs each week, rarely do we hear back, get called to interview or even for a trial shift or two.

There are some who have explored avenues such as temp work and the falsely advertised apprenticeships which in reality are little more than a slave labor with such a low wage it is almost impossible to support living.  But for some, the unheard, they face tough choices between existing  responsibilities for caring for relatives or children and working, or a career. There is little support for those stuck in a loose loose situation, if they work full time to be able to support themselves and grow a career they carry the burden of guilt that they are unable to help loved ones. Yet if they do not work they feel the guilt and shame of being unemployed struggling to support themselves.

The government is raging a war here. It has become for them something the next person in power can deal with, no action just talk. However, voting has taken a nose dive. Voters and those soon to be eligible to vote have lost confidence in the system. Who can blame them?  Politicians, MPs and so on are voted as representatives and leaders but often it seems, they are unwilling to really make the difference and help the next generations of voters. Those leaving school, those in their homes or libraries applying for days on end to endless jobs, those that the government fails on a daily basis, it is concerning.

There is a widespread issue that covers across every board and every age group that requires incredible balancing, but it seems, that the rich are becoming richer while those that are suffering at their hands, their own ignorance and blind-shortsightedness are barely living.

There is a knock on effect of unemployment, depression, which takes many forms and behaviors.