A Short Drama Bearing Good and Bad Karma:
“Let me put it in terms you might get…” She yelled, pushing him back in the seat with all her might with a spiteful wipe of an arm over the lips he’d trespassed against, “You’re being a piece of shit,”
She growled audibly as the rage rose up in the form of all the factors suddenly bearing down on their shared space, “You idiot! I know your wife, and seriously?”
She motioned up and down against her seated jeaned and sweater body, “Get a life, I can do better than a scum bag who’d cheat someone he’d already promised his life too, shows how much holding your heart means,”
She resisted the urge to slap him as he stabbed a knife into her ideas of romance, once again killing Darcy, “No thanks, bad blood ass hole, secrets breed shit like your pulling, I suggest you get rid of them before they ruin your whole.”
She waved her hand in circles suggesting all of him. “… Life, or whatever you call this…”
He sat in stunned silence, blinking finally thinking clearly, before she flinched forward threateningly, suddenly seeming bigger than the little skin she lived within. “Get the F*** out! Now!”
He didn’t take another moment as he began fumbling with the door lock.
It’s stories like this that engage me as both the writer and reader. Before I can write a darn thing, a plot has to suck me in and motivate me to stick it to the keyboard in order to bust out the word count to account for the story that unfolds from it.
The best drama fiction, in my opinion, will remind me fondly not to lose integrity. Not to back down when I know what’s right by me or my characters standards, and being able to separate the two? That is a key ingredient to the special creative sauce I love to write in.
*kissing bunched fingers into an open hand* “Muah!” A Magnificant skill worth developing, because it ends up enveloping life as you know it too.
When you write, there’s this period where the story is just yours before you decide it’s ready for an audience there’s a moment, it’s just you and your characters breeding a romance, sizing each other up and searching for clues of similar purpose before a story is fully extended, it usually starts with persistence as a writer to prove your pudding to amuse, a higher being, the cosmos, call it what you want, but it looks like hard work, faith, trust, and a neverending push toward the stories birth in my experience.
The result that begins to manifest comes, at best, in an understanding and sharing space in your mind with an intelligence different from the one you normally find.
Writing a story is an opportunity to experience a reality completely outside of your own, and with the best characters, solitude never leaves you feeling alone, in fact, I’ve found myself craving those moments on my own to digest another bite of a story that’s been sent for translation.
As a writer, I feel this gift is extended after time and again watching story bubbles popping and disappearing into disappointed direction. Maybe it’s lost in too many inconsistencies and research topics that don’t tickle my fancy. It could be that I’m just not ready as a writer to delve in. In those cases, the magic leaves about 400 words in, just enough along to make me feel a minor commitment to finishing it, thus leaving a story for another day.