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

Mon Sep 6 20:32:28 UTC 2010

well you are welcome.
one of the reasons I hesitated in posting is that "advert" is a verb 
and not just a noun for something  put up to advertise something.
I did wish for a little more plot but I also do not know what your 
assignment was.
jc

At 01:23 PM 9/6/2010, you wrote:

>JC,
>
>You are right, I meant averting.  I have gone through the piece 
>about 20 times, and I can't believe I missed that!  *smile*  Glad I 
>posted it here first.  Thanks.
>
>Bridgit
>
> > From: stylist-request at nfbnet.org
> > Subject: stylist Digest, Vol 77, Issue 5
> > To: stylist at nfbnet.org
> > Date: Mon, 6 Sep 2010 12:00:08 -0500
> >
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> > Today's Topics:
> >
> > 1. creative non-fiction "Snapshot" no language, no adult content
> > (Bridgit Pollpeter)
> > 2. Re: creative non-fiction "Snapshot" no language, no adult
> > content (James H. "Jim" Canaday M.A. N6YR)
> >
> >
> > ----------------------------------------------------------------------
> >
> > Message: 1
> > Date: Mon, 6 Sep 2010 04:21:23 -0500
> > From: Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com>
> > To: writers division <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> > Subject: [stylist] creative non-fiction "Snapshot" no language, no
> > adult content
> > Message-ID: <SNT136-w646C2D35961CF77A0F5FAC4700 at phx.gbl>
> > Content-Type: text/plain; charset="Windows-1252"
> >
> >
> > 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 Unc
>le 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 att
>ached. 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.
> >
> >
> > ------------------------------
> >
> > Message: 2
> > Date: Mon, 06 Sep 2010 09:10:39 -0500
> > From: "James H. \"Jim\" Canaday M.A. N6YR" <n6yr at sunflower.com>
> > To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> > Subject: Re: [stylist] creative non-fiction "Snapshot" no language, no
> > adult content
> > Message-ID: <201009061410.o86EAjd3005661 at smtp.sunflower.com>
> > Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"; format=flowed
> >
> > 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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> >
> >
> >
> > ------------------------------
> >
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> >
> > End of stylist Digest, Vol 77, Issue 5
> > **************************************
>
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