[stylist] One more go at "the heart of it" chapter 1.
Alan
awheeler at neb.rr.com
Tue Oct 6 18:14:34 UTC 2009
Okay, Jim, I'll remember to call you that from now on. Thanks for the
compliments.
----- Original Message -----
From: "James H. "Jim" Canaday M.A. N6YR" <n6yr at sunflower.com>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Tuesday, October 06, 2009 11:40 AM
Subject: Re: [stylist] One more go at "the heart of it" chapter 1.
> Alan,
> please call me Jim, otherwise I think I'm in trouble.
>
> wow, your work here is very good. needs some spellcheck and there's a
> little repetition about their work. I feel so much closer to these two
> characters and their relationship issue. tenderness from a callused hand,
> nice touch if you forgive the pun.
> very good Alan!
> jc
> Jim Canaday M.A.
> Lawrence, KS
>
> At 08:14 AM 10/6/2009, you wrote:
>>Hi everyone,
>>I was thinking about what James said, and I knew I had to fit a
>>description of Michael and Anna's work into the first chapter. So, I have
>>given that a go. Let me know what you think. I also have chapter 2
>>almost ready.
>>
>>The heart of it
>>
>>By: Alan Wheeler
>>
>>
>>
>>chapter one
>>
>>Heart Break
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>BUMP!!
>>
>>Michael looked up from his section of the Sunday Chicago Sun Times as he
>>and Anna sat in the front of the first class section of the airplane. The
>>jolt of turbulence brought Michael back to his distracted thoughts. He and
>>Anna weren't moving, no real "turbulence" for them, they were
>>stagnating, standing still, and it drove him mad.
>>
>>
>>
>>Oh, they loved each other, that wasn't the problem. It was communicating;
>>communicating their love for each other to each other, communicating
>>without putting the other on the defensive all the time. Those were the
>>problem areas for them. They both knew it. Yet, neither Michael or Anna
>>took steps to remedy the problem. It had become akin to that proverbial
>>elephant in the living room that no one speaks of, but rather walks a wide
>>circle around, simply to avoid it.
>>
>>
>>
>>Michael had hoped their trip to South America would nudge them out of this
>>routine, cause them to break down barriers, but it didn't happen that way.
>>No change occurred at all, in fact.
>>
>>
>>
>>He looked over at her as she read her Stephen King novel, and his heart
>>seemed to stutter in his chest, as if beating every other beat. He loved
>>her so much, and yet felt so far away. It hurt him; hurt him deeply. He
>>caught her looking at him out of the corner of her eye, and the look on
>>her face told him in no uncertain terms she was thinking about the very
>>same things. He saw the love in her eyes, but he also saw a seemingly
>>bottomless sadness and loneliness there, too.
>>
>>
>>
>>He wanted to throw down his newspaper, tell her just how unreservedly he
>>loved her and demand she say what she was thinking. It was futile. It
>>was futile because Michael knew that he would balk if she made the same
>>demand of him. She was no magazine model, no cover girl, but that didn't
>>matter to Michael. Anna's inner beauty, her sense of happiness and peace
>>manifested itself in her glowing skin, bright smile, lush black hair and
>>made her outshine any model on any magazine. He had tried to open up,
>>tried to get past the barriers he felt between them. To Michael it was
>>like body-slamming a brick wall.
>>
>>
>>
>>All he could bring himself to do was brush a lock of her long, black hair
>>out of her soft slightly rounded face. It was a gesture of affection, to
>>him, anyway, but she just vaguely glanced at him out of the corner of her
>>eye, and continued to read.
>>
>>
>>
>>***
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>Anna felt Michael's lightly callused hand brush the loose lock of hair.
>>She really did love him. He was like no man she had ever known, let alone
>>loved. Even now, looking at him made her heart stop for a moment, her
>>breath silently hitching. So many female friends of hers had commented on
>>how, if his reddish hair was just a slightly different color, he could
>>pass for Brad Pitt. He, of course, had laughed this off. Brad Pitt wasn't
>>thick around the middle was Michael's argument. He also didn't have brown
>>hair. Anna always thought that Michael could put any matinee idol to
>>shame, especially Brad Pitt. That is how much she loved him, inside and
>>out.
>>
>>Yet, for her it seemed like her head was extroverted and her heart
>>introverted. She could talk with him about their work in South America,
>>the impact that work would have back in the states, and do so for hours.
>>They both had found a job that was tied to their deepest compassion for
>>people in need. It fed people in the remotest villages in Sot America,
>>and shamed the United States government, what with the current
>>administration making rhetoric-filled promises to help these villages
>>devistated by bad weather starvation and disease. The organization they
>>worked for did more in one week than the U.S. did in a four-year
>>presidential term. Anna loved seeing Michael work with his hands as he
>>did handyman-style jobs around the village.
>>
>>
>>
>>On the other hand, ask her to express her love for him, and it as if she
>>were pathologically shy, or mute.
>>
>>
>>
>>Ask her to talk about some way, big or small in which Michael may have
>>hurt her, even just with a unintended sleight, and her emotional throat
>>closed up and her voice was silent.
>>
>>
>>
>>She hated herself for it but she kept waiting on Michael to be the one to
>>open up. She knew she should take the first step since it seemed Michael
>>never would. Unfortunately, she seemed too mired in it all to take that
>>step. She recalled how she once thought being a better housewife would
>>tilt the balance, and cause them to open up to each other. But, it was
>>like the lyric she had heard in a song by the band Wilco says, "keeping
>>things clean doesn't change anything."
>>
>>
>>
>>They both had found a job that was tied to their deepest compassion for
>>people in need. It fed people in the remotest villages in South America,
>>and shamed the United States government, what with the current
>>administration making rhetoric-filled promises to help these villages
>>devistated by bad weather starvation and disease. The organization they
>>worked for did more in one week than the U.S. did in a four-year
>>presidential term. They both loved watching the other work. Anna often
>>just sat and adored Michael as he did various handyman chores around the
>>village. Michael caught himself pausing, quite often, in his work to
>>admire Anna from afar as she sat under a tree, teaching children from the
>>village how to read English. For both of them, the key word was "afar."
>>They were like two islands that depended on each other with no bridge
>>between them, and no open shipping lanes.
>>
>>They both sat, mutely gazing at each other. They both knew something had
>>to break, and both silently wondered if it ever would.
>>
>>
>>
>>***
>>
>>
>>
>>abruptly, for Michael, something did. It had nothing whatsoever to do
>>with their relationship. It was pain, starting from the left side of his
>>chest and slowly radiating down his arm. For the love of everything holy,
>>was he having a heart attack? Here? On this airplane? He squeezed
>>Anna's small, silky hand, almost violently. His eyes registered her shock
>>and horror as she realized something was wrong, then everything faded to
>>black.
>>_______________________________________________
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>>
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>
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