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

Mon Sep 6 23:51:50 UTC 2010

yes Lori,
I too was puzzled by the hair out in patches.  I 
guess because of my training and history and the 
bleak setting I thought it was one of those 
self-destructive personal habbits that she pulled out clumps of her own hair.
jc

At 04:24 PM 9/6/2010, you wrote:
>i gather from the last line that the person you 
>speak about has cancer?  A strange form, one that scalps her?
>I did some proofreading, interspersed with your 
>text, regarding punctuation and spelling, 
>etc.  Nothing really deep.  The purpose of the 
>piece is plain.  One can deduce from it that the 
>speaker is examining her life, noting fallen 
>dreams, and perhaps looking at the end of 
>it.  You used your own name, so I do wonder if it's based on a real situation.
>Lori
>On Sep 6, 2010, at 5:21:23 AM, "Bridgit 
>Pollpeter" <bpollpeter at hotmail.com> wrote:
>
>From:   "Bridgit Pollpeter" <bpollpeter at hotmail.com>
>Subject:    [stylist] creative non-fiction 
>"Snapshot" no language,  no adult content
>Date:   September 6, 2010 5:21:23 AM EDT
>To: "writers division" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
>
>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,
>(Don't need this comma)
>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,
>  I'd probably have written;  Bridgit, A young woman, skinny, blonde, sits...
>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.
>probably grammatically this period should be a colon.
>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
>why not just say home cooked meal of fried chicken and gravy...etc?
>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
>used--needs a 'd'
>to in small towns.¡ Another picture displays 
>Bridgit in her black dress with a deep V in front exposing a boney,
>bony is spelled b o n y.
>but well tanned chest. Bronzed arms connected 
>with another?s, she stood next to her 
>fourteen-year-old cousin, Colin, already taller than her.
>taller than she--would be a better choice
>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
>do you mean guests?
>doing the Bunnyhop. Clustered of
>clustered off (o f f, not o f)
>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
>I think you mean laid bare (l a i d)
>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
>This should be averting (a v e r t i n g)--no d.
>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
>There's that extra e again!
>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.
>
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