[stylist] creative non-fiction "Snapshot" no language, no adult content

[Priscilla McKinley]

I have embedded a few comments in your essay, just things to consider.
 Also, I think you might want to consider the organization.  You start
with the wedding photos and focus on one.  Then you move back to
looking around the room.  It seems as though it might be more natural
for your reading audience to come down to the basement and then to the
room, see everything in the room (closet, dresser, photos on walls,
etc.), and finally end with the girl in the middle of the room,
looking at the wedding photos.  Then she could look in the mirror at
the end, moving directly from one snapshot that captures her feelings,
true feelings, to seeing herself in the mirror.

Of course, this is just one opinion.  I like when stories/scenes move
from general to specific, from the room and the surroundings to one
specific photo, to one specific moment in time.  It seems as though
the specific photo reveals sadness that also comes out when looking at
yourself in the mirror.  Again, that’s just one opinion.

Thanks for sharing,

Priscilla


Snapshot

Reaching the bottom steps of the basement, an observer would notice
the following scene:  A naked lightbulb emanates a harsh yellow
brilliance stifled by the dark windowless, cinder-block walls and
open-rafter ceiling. [I would take out the first part of the previous
sentence and start with “A light…”.]   The grey painted floor
resembles hard, cold stone.  Separating the basement from the large
family-room-sized space, should be a plaster wall, but now just the
wall studs remain leaving a clear view into the large room converted
into a bedroom.  A skinny, blonde, young woman, Bridgit, sits in the
middle of the room surrounded by scattered piles of photographs.
Leaning against the wrought iron footboard of her bed, she studies a
picture.  With knees drawn up against her slender body, she stares at
the image of a young woman.  The small window above the bed shoots
sunlight like a spotlight onto the section of floor the young woman
sits upon. [Where the woman sits  to avoid ending in a preposition?]
Bits of light reflect off the pictures littering the beige carpet
around the young woman.Try using other words besides “young woman” so
much.  Plus, sometimes it is confusing if the scene is you or the
picture of you.  You might want to build up to the picture at the end
of the description of you sitting.]
The pictures relay a moment modern technology has frozen in time.  A
small-town family wedding snapped for the centuries.  Bridgit is
twenty-one in the pictures.  A single year ago.  She remembers the
day, she remembers the feelings.  Happiness that weddings evoke, but
sadness that the occasion is not her own to celebrate.  Joy to see
relatives gone for too long, but restlessness to explore the world
too.  It was a third cousin's wedding, but the whole clan showed up to
celebrate the nuptials.  A panoramic shot included a large portion of
family members gathered at a long table enjoying the home-cooked meal
of chicken-fried chicken and gravy with mashed potatoes and green bean
casserole topped with real onion-rings.  Bridgit smiled demurely,
picking at the food before her, while Uncle Lance, to her right,
intently shoveled mashed potatoes in his mouth, and Tami, her mother,
held a bit of chicken mid-air with her fork, talking, most likely
saying how, "Fried-chicken is not a very elegant choice for a wedding,
but I guess that is what you are use to in small towns."  Another
picture displays Bridgit in her black dress with a deep V in front
exposing a boney, but well tanned chest.  Bronzed arms connected with
another's, she stood next to her fourteen-year-old cousin, Colin,
already taller than her.  Her blue eyes gazed into the camera as she
flashed her one-dimpled smile.  The focus of the next photo captured
the wedding party and guest doing the Bunnyhop.  Clustered of to the
right, Uncle Doug and Aunt Becky grill her about college.  She smiled
quietly as, "What are you studying?"  "Still music?" and what are your
plans after graduation?" were fired at her.  Years of dance training
and etiquette school have taught her to stand erect with head held
high.  With her confident demeanor and three-inch heels, she appeared
taller than her average five-foot height.  Later in the evening, the
camera snapped Bridgit laughing wildly as Uncle Brent whipped her
across the dance floor like Ginger Rogers.  Another moment captured
Bridgit and Uncle Brent posing for the camera as he dipped her low.
Another shot has Bridgit kicking her black strappy heels off as she
prepared for a new round of dancing.  Each photograph is handled with
care and placed in a tree creating a timeline beginning with a picture
of Bridgit's immediate family dressed in their wedding attire posing
for the first time in years, to a snapshot of straggling dancers
waltzing to the final song of the night, "I Will Always Love You."
Each picture displays a happy, smiling young woman, but one single
shot captured the truth.  One solitary picture alone shows her with
the mask off.  It is the photo she now sits and studies intently.
[Consider checking ofor present and past-tense verbs.  Sometimes it
seems as though you could use more present.]
Staring at the picture of herself, her expression is quizzical and
worn.  Her gaze is intent as though she will discover some truth about
herself.  A rare moment exposed displaying a part never meant for
public consumption, yet here it is for all to see.  She cradles the
picture in her thin hands as if breaking it will destroy some part of
her.  The camera revealed Bridgit resting her head on a propped arm.
Escaped tendrils of hair framed her tanned face, and her blue,
almond-shaped eyes looked off into the distance.  Her expression
contained longing, dreams and hopes unrealized, mingled with
restlessness and deep sadness. [Since this is captured in time,
consider present tense.]  Sitting alone, tucked away in a corner of
the reception hall, she believed herself unnoticed, but the camera
caught her.  An X-ray imprinting her soul lay bare.  Always so careful
to wear her mask.  Never letting her guard down, only to be trapped by
a modern marvel.
Placing this final picture in its proper spot in the visual timeline,
Bridgit looks around the room.  A blue "Happy-birthday" balloon hangs
deflated on the wall surrounded by pictures from high school and
college.  Bridgit, Tera and Jessica smiled in their red-and-white
cheerleading uniforms.  Bridgit standing at the grand piano in the
choir room, mouth opened as she belted "On My Own" from Les
Miserables.  Bridgit engulfed by Ryan, her boyfriend, the boy she
thought she would marry.  Bridgit and Tera, arms clasped around each
other's shoulders, grinning on graduation day.  Bridgit sitting on
Joe's knee during a cast party for Cinderella. [Consider being
consistent with verb tenses in the previous sentences, either present
with complete sentences or fragments with “ing” verbs.]   A letter
pokes out from behind the balloon, a love letter sent by a friend who
never forgot her, but that Bridgit could not muster the necessary
feelings for.  The letter is a reminder that some one in the world
thinks she is special.  A poster hangs on the opposite wall displaying
Kate and Leo at the bow of a ship, and next to this stands a tall
bookshelf lined with books from Little Women to I Know Why the Caged
Bird Sings.  Across the room a butter-colored dresser-drawer reflects
her image in its large mirror framed by carved flowers.  Quickly
adverting her eyes, she takes in the glass bottle of Miracle perfume
and the organized assortment of make-up compacts and brushes.  A
Shabby-chic-style jewelry box is arranged on a corner of the dresser
top, and necklaces hang on a pink heart-shape with tiny hooks
protruding from the lace-overlay front.  The open closet reveals
clothes hanging from shortest sleeve length to longest as well as
being color coordinated.  Directly to the left of the entrance into
her room, sits the thirty-two-inch TV purchased by Ryan, the ex,
disguised as a Christmas present, but intended for the use of video
games.  Taking in years of memories and keepsakes, Bridgit finally
turns back to the reflection in the mirror.  Her blonde hair is pulled
back in a long, wispy ponytail, an attempt to hide the sections of
hair that have fallen out with portions of scalp still attached.  Head
settled on boney knees, she wonders at her compactness.  Chest,
stomach and waist are hidden behind skinny legs, and rail-thin arms
wrap around just beneath the pale, gaunt face.  Her eyes haunt her as
they hold the longing and sadness grown deeper by another year.


On 9/6/10, James H. "Jim" Canaday M.A. N6YR <n6yr at sunflower.com> wrote:
> Hi Bridgit,
> descriptions are very good in this.
>
> I could be wrong but I think "adverting" you meant "averting."
> jc
>
>
> At 04:21 AM 9/6/2010, you wrote:
>
>>Dear List,
>>
>>Happy Labor Day to all.  I am posting a piece I just worked on for a
>>class.  Before it is workshopped, I thought I would let you lot
>>deconstruct it, and let me know what you think.
>>
>>Bridgit
>>
>>Snapshot
>>
>>Reaching the bottom steps of the basement, an observer would notice
>>the following scene:  A naked lightbulb emanates a harsh yellow
>>brilliance stifled by the dark windowless, cinder-block walls and
>>open-rafter ceiling.  The grey painted floor resembles hard, cold
>>stone.  Separating the basement from the large family-room-sized
>>space, should be a plaster wall, but now just the wall studs remain
>>leaving a clear view into the large room converted into a
>>bedroom.  A skinny, blonde, young woman, Bridgit, sits in the middle
>>of the room surrounded by scattered piles of photographs.  Leaning
>>against the wrought iron footboard of her bed, she studies a
>>picture.  With knees drawn up against her slender body, she stares
>>at the image of a young woman.  The small window above the bed
>>shoots sunlight like a spotlight onto the section of floor the young
>>woman sits upon.  Bits of light reflect off the pictures littering
>>the beige carpet around the young woman.
>>The pictures relay a moment modern technology has frozen in time.  A
>>small-town family wedding snapped for the centuries.  Bridgit is
>>twenty-one in the pictures.  A single year ago.  She remembers the
>>day, she remembers the feelings.  Happiness that weddings evoke, but
>>sadness that the occasion is not her own to celebrate.  Joy to see
>>relatives gone for too long, but restlessness to explore the world
>>too.  It was a third cousin's wedding, but the whole clan showed up
>>to celebrate the nuptials.  A panoramic shot included a large
>>portion of family members gathered at a long table enjoying the
>>home-cooked meal of chicken-fried chicken and gravy with mashed
>>potatoes and green bean casserole topped with real
>>onion-rings.  Bridgit smiled demurely, picking at the food before
>>her, while Uncle Lance, to her right, intently shoveled mashed
>>potatoes in his mouth, and Tami, her mother, held a bit of chicken
>>mid-air with her fork, talking, most likely saying how,
>>"Fried-chicken is not a very elegant choice for a wedding, but I
>>guess that is what you are use to in small towns."  Another picture
>>displays Bridgit in her black dress with a deep V in front exposing
>>a boney, but well tanned chest.  Bronzed arms connected with
>>another's, she stood next to her fourteen-year-old cousin, Colin,
>>already taller than her.  Her blue eyes gazed into the camera as she
>>flashed her one-dimpled smile.  The focus of the next photo captured
>>the wedding party and guest doing the Bunnyhop.  Clustered of to the
>>right, Uncle Doug and Aunt Becky grill her about college.  She
>>smiled quietly as, "What are you studying?"  "Still music?" and what
>>are your plans after graduation?" were fired at her.  Years of dance
>>training and etiquette school have taught her to stand erect with
>>head held high.  With her confident demeanor and three-inch heels,
>>she appeared taller than her average five-foot height.  Later in the
>>evening, the camera snapped Bridgit laughing wildly as Uncle Brent
>>whipped her across the dance floor like Ginger Rogers.  Another
>>moment captured Bridgit and Uncle Brent posing for the camera as he
>>dipped her low.  Another shot has Bridgit kicking her black strappy
>>heels off as she prepared for a new round of dancing.  Each
>>photograph is handled with care and placed in a tree creating a
>>timeline beginning with a picture of Bridgit's immediate family
>>dressed in their wedding attire posing for the first time in years,
>>to a snapshot of straggling dancers waltzing to the final song of
>>the night, "I Will Always Love You."  Each picture displays a happy,
>>smiling young woman, but one single shot captured the truth.  One
>>solitary picture alone shows her with the mask off.  It is the photo
>>she now sits and studies intently.
>>Staring at the picture of herself, her expression is quizzical and
>>worn.  Her gaze is intent as though she will discover some truth
>>about herself.  A rare moment exposed displaying a part never meant
>>for public consumption, yet here it is for all to see.  She cradles
>>the picture in her thin hands as if breaking it will destroy some
>>part of her.  The camera revealed Bridgit resting her head on a
>>propped arm.  Escaped tendrils of hair framed her tanned face, and
>>her blue, almond-shaped eyes looked off into the distance.  Her
>>expression contained longing, dreams and hopes unrealized, mingled
>>with restlessness and deep sadness.  Sitting alone, tucked away in a
>>corner of the reception hall, she believed herself unnoticed, but
>>the camera caught her.  An X-ray imprinting her soul lay
>>bare.  Always so careful to wear her mask.  Never letting her guard
>>down, only to be trapped by a modern marvel.
>>Placing this final picture in its proper spot in the visual
>>timeline, Bridgit looks around the room.  A blue "Happy-birthday"
>>balloon hangs deflated on the wall surrounded by pictures from high
>>school and college.  Bridgit, Tera and Jessica smiled in their
>>red-and-white cheerleading uniforms.  Bridgit standing at the grand
>>piano in the choir room, mouth opened as she belted "On My Own" from
>>Les Miserables.  Bridgit engulfed by Ryan, her boyfriend, the boy
>>she thought she would marry.  Bridgit and Tera, arms clasped around
>>each other's shoulders, grinning on graduation day.  Bridgit sitting
>>on Joe's knee during a cast party for Cinderella.  A letter pokes
>>out from behind the balloon, a love letter sent by a friend who
>>never forgot her, but that Bridgit could not muster the necessary
>>feelings for.  The letter is a reminder that some one in the world
>>thinks she is special.  A poster hangs on the opposite wall
>>displaying Kate and Leo at the bow of a ship, and next to this
>>stands a tall bookshelf lined with books from Little Women to I Know
>>Why the Caged Bird Sings.  Across the room a butter-colored
>>dresser-drawer reflects her image in its large mirror framed by
>>carved flowers.  Quickly adverting her eyes, she takes in the glass
>>bottle of Miracle perfume and the organized assortment of make-up
>>compacts and brushes.  A Shabby-chic-style jewelry box is arranged
>>on a corner of the dresser top, and necklaces hang on a pink
>>heart-shape with tiny hooks protruding from the lace-overlay
>>front.  The open closet reveals clothes hanging from shortest sleeve
>>length to longest as well as being color coordinated.  Directly to
>>the left of the entrance into her room, sits the thirty-two-inch TV
>>purchased by Ryan, the ex, disguised as a Christmas present, but
>>intended for the use of video games.  Taking in years of memories
>>and keepsakes, Bridgit finally turns back to the reflection in the
>>mirror.  Her blonde hair is pulled back in a long, wispy ponytail,
>>an attempt to hide the sections of hair that have fallen out with
>>portions of scalp still attached.  Head settled on boney knees, she
>>wonders at her compactness.  Chest, stomach and waist are hidden
>>behind skinny legs, and rail-thin arms wrap around just beneath the
>>pale, gaunt face.  Her eyes haunt her as they hold the longing and
>>sadness grown deeper by another year.
>>
>>_______________________________________________
>>Writers Division web site:
>>http://www.nfb-writers-division.org <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>>
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