18. The earth has moved under your
feet, gloriously!--and nothing will ever be the same again
The Earth moved. Well, technically, the
van moved that I was sitting in, but it moved gloriously in spite of
its bedraggled and broken down appearance. My Senior League baseball
team had won the state tournament, and we were heading down to the
regional tournament in New Jersey. And we were going down not in a
team bus like other teams most likely were, but in a rented van and
the van of one of the player's fathers. We of course had chosen the
twelve year old van.
We regretted it really quickly, as it
had practically no air conditioning, while our gear in the other van
was kept nice and cool. The van actually seated thirteen passengers,
but we fortunately only had twelve players as one of our players took
enough space for probably two and a half. We kept the two windows
that opened wide open, but that did not assist us all too much. The
majority of the seatbelts worked, but were not used all that much.
The players predicted that we would be excited for an hour, then the
adrenaline and excitement for the drive would wear off once we hit
the highway, and everyone would sleep the rest of the way down.
Fortunately, that did not happen for the most part, as it would have
been a most boring ride down for me, as I definitely could not sleep.
The ride down was certainly highly
enjoyable, as a dozen bored sixteen year old boys can generally come
up with something interesting to occupy themselves with during a
thirteen hour van ride. Like holding signs up in the window. The
first sign that one of the players came up with said "F*g"
on it. That one only lasted for a little while. The people outside
probably could not see through the tinted glass windows, and
hopefully no one would have taken it personally anyhow. The next one
a player wrote said "Show me your titties." The other
players had a lot of fun holding it up at old fat black guys who we
were passing, and always thought it hilarious when someone looked.
The two adults who were driving, pretty
much let the players do whatever they wanted, but eventually after
probably eight hours or so told them not to use the sign anymore. We could not go above fifty because all the weight made the van sway back and forth and make it feel like it was about to tip over, or fall apart. Not to mention that the check engine light came on halfway down and stayed on for the duration of the trip.
After a few hours the van was a total
mess of food and things all over the floor and seats. I lived on
cinnamon gum. But altogether, I had much more fun riding down in that
way, with the rest of the team, even without air conditioning, then
it would have been otherwise. We took a 300 mile detour to avoid New
York City, got into New Jersey, then realized that we could not get
to where we needed to in New Jersey without going through NYC. It was
fun, but it was nice to get there finally. And play a game the next
day. Needless to say, we did rather poorly, and got to come back to
nice not humid Maine.
And we made sure we rode in the new
rented air conditioned van this time.
Here's where the difference between vignette (week 8) and narrative comes into play.
ReplyDeleteYou handle the road trip very nicely: offering us the van, the players hijinx (silly old word, sorry), your attitude and cinnamon gum, and so on.
This is a well-described sketch of a scene. But it doesn't do what narrative intends to do which is to force the reader into some concern or anxiety about the eternal question: 'What happens next?'
There has to be a stake at risk or a problem or a challenge or a struggle against long odds or something of that sort in a narrative.
I suppose that this is sort of like what Felicia did on a narrative one, where she had a trip to Frenchman Bay, but was mainly just describing a trip, it did not have anything that really concerned or drew the reader, none of the climax, or drama, or macguffin, or what's next part of it.
ReplyDeleteAfter my first two topics, I could not think of any others as obviously not many dramatic story type things have happened to me. I suppose that this one would not work for a narrative, as it is just getting on a bus and driving down. Would it help if I added us almost rear ending someone, or should I just try another topic?
I'm not asking for a rewrite. But stories don't necessarily come from dramatic, near death experiences.
ReplyDeleteIf the guy sitting next to you was farting a lot or the music on the radio annoyed you or you were sitting on the side of the van that got the sun and it gave you a headache--anything modest and quotidian like that could turn into a narrative. It's all in your attitude, approach, and framing. I wrote a short short this morning about the birches on the center strip north of Old Town, not a particularly prepossessing subject....