NPR Contest--Finished with a Video! 2/26 update

[Ryan]

2/26 Update


Thanks for the little bit of feedback Wallflower and Calliopenjo. I tried deleting a few of the suggested words and sentences, but when I spoke into the mic those words and sentences just came out and sounded right. Maybe I'm not letting go...but as everyone knows this writing thing is pretty subjective.

This project was a great two-day sidetrack. I couldn't help but add a few images into the video reading (playing with new FLIP camera). Sit back and have a watch-listen.
http://thechinproject.wordpress.com/201 ... est-entry/

Cheers

Now. If I don't get some real "work" done on the baby room, my wife is going to kill me!

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I posted this in the Procrastination forum but thought I'd repost here in case anyone needs a healthy sidetrack from &%$&%@ querying! Not sure how to get a picture into the actual post so here's the link.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/stor ... =105660765

The paper and reflection made me think of a depressed old guy looking at personal ads. It was actually a HUGE relief writing fiction instead of memoir/personal essay. There's a few more days so any feedback would be cool. It's a long shot but having a story read on All Things Considered would be awesome. If anyone else enters post here. Cheers.

Hug this Man
By Ryan Chin

Brown haired Becky likes staying in bed until noon. Short but cute Carey likes cooking and long walks. Holly? Could this be the same Holly who told me she found someone? I exhale. The air grabs at my throat and my heart settles into an expanding void. It is her; she was just being nice.

I flip to the next page finding solace in the newsprint’s aroma. I roll the corner of the paper between my thumb and index finger while scanning the next few personals ads. My kneading of the paper quickens and it softens between my fingers. I turn another page, and then another. These pages turn like blind corners. Maybe one day I will crash into someone: She will replace my blessed Karen, she will walk and laugh with me, she will hold me. How long has Karen been gone now? If any more air leaves me, no one will know I’m here.

I tip my mug and power through a slug of cold coffee. Normally, I’m done ‘looking’ before I need a refill, but not today. My reflection catches me as I stand and dig in my pockets for some change. I lean towards the glass rubbing and twisting my two-week old beard. The salt and pepper strands remind me of newsprint, smells like it too. After thirty years as a newspaper editor, ink runs in my veins. Karen used to tell me to shower as soon as I came home; ink was an odor to her, not an aroma. My reflection ages with each twist of my beard--my reflection will not smile. Karen would tell me to shave; she hated facial hair.

I cut in line and flip a quarter and three dimes onto the counter. The barista nods and slides the change into the tip jar. As I make my way back to my seat, a man picks up my paper, frowns, and sets it back down. I check the date on the paper. Over two weeks old! That explains why Holly’s ad seemed so familiar. I step back and tip my mug; the coffee burns going down and I wince at the pain. There’s a newspaper stand and a bar down the street. The pain will be gone soon.

[Calliopenjo]

Hug this Man
By Ryan Chin

Brown haired Becky likes staying in bed until noon. Short but cute Carey likes cooking and long walks. Holly? Could this be the same Holly who told me she found someone? I exhale. The air grabs at my throat and my heart settles into an expanding void. It is her; she wasjustbeing nice.

I flip to the next page finding solace in the newsprint’s aroma. I roll the corner of the paper between my thumb and index finger while scanning the next few personals ads. My kneading of the paper quickens and it softens between my fingers. I turn another page, and then another. These pages turn like blind corners. Maybe one day I will crash into someone: She will replace my blessed Karen, she will walk and laugh with me, she will hold me. How long has Karen been gone now? If any more air leaves me, no one will know I’m here.

I tip my mug and power through a slug of cold coffee. Normally, I’m done ‘looking’ before I need a refill, but not today. My reflection catches me as I stand and dig in my pockets for some change. I lean towards the glass rubbing and twisting my two-week old beard. The salt and pepper strands remind me of newsprint, smells like it too. After thirty years as a newspaper editor, ink runs in my veins. Karen used to tell me to shower as soon as I came home; ink was an odor to her, not an aroma. My reflection ages with each twist of my beard--my reflection will not smile. Karen would tell me to shave; she hated facial hair.

I cut in line and flip a quarter and three dimes onto the counter. The barista nods and slides the change into the tip jar. As I make my way back to my seat, a man picks up my paper, frowns, and sets it back down. I check the date on the paper. Over two weeks old! That explains why Holly’s ad seemed so familiar. I step back and tip my mug; the coffee burns going down and I wince at the pain. There’s a newspaper stand and a bar down the street. The pain will be gone soon.

There wasn't much to crit. I could see him. I could feel him. This was a nice story.

[theWallflower]

Brown haired Becky likes staying in bed until noon. Short but cute Carey likes cooking and long walks. Holly? Could this be the same Holly who told me she found someone? I exhale. The air grabs at my throat and my heart settles into an expanding void. It is her; she was just being nice.

-I am not really seeing what's happening here. I have no mental image to latch on to.
-Now that I've read through, I see what this is. But you need to make it clearer from word 1. I need A) where he is. B) what he's doing. This way my brain has something to latch onto.
-I don't like the "The air grabs..." sentence. Purple prose. Kill it.

I flip to the next page finding solace in the newsprint’s aroma. I roll the corner of the paper between my thumb and index finger while scanning the next few personals ads. My kneading of the paper quickens and it softens between my fingers. I turn another page, and then another. These pages turn like blind corners. Maybe one day I will crash into someone: She will replace my blessed Karen, she will walk and laugh with me, she will hold me. How long has Karen been gone now? If any more air leaves me, no one will know I’m here.

-Combine second and third sentences
-Eliminate fourth.
-I don't like the last sentence.

I tip my mug and power through a slug of cold coffee. Normally, I’m done ‘looking’ before I need a refill, but not today. My reflection catches me as I stand and dig in my pockets for some change. I lean towards the glass rubbing and twisting my two-week old beard. The salt and pepper strands remind me of newsprint, smells like it too. After thirty years as a newspaper editor, ink runs in my veins. Karen used to tell me to shower as soon as I came home; ink was an odor to her, not an aroma. My reflection ages with each twist of my beard--my reflection will not smile. Karen would tell me to shave; she hated facial hair.

-Glass? You mean a mirror? Is he reading the paper in the bathroom?
-Is the newspaper thing really necessary? What does it add to the story?

I cut in line and flip a quarter and three dimes onto the counter. The barista nods and slides the change into the tip jar. As I make my way back to my seat, a man picks up my paper, frowns, and sets it back down. I check the date on the paper. Over two weeks old! That explains why Holly’s ad seemed so familiar. I step back and tip my mug; the coffee burns going down and I wince at the pain. There’s a newspaper stand and a bar down the street. The pain will be gone soon.

-No plot. No conclusion. No events. No beginning middle or end. Even 600 words have that. I wouldn't mind if the story centered around Holly. That would be interesting. Focus your story on that singular theme.

[Ryan]

-Glass? You mean a mirror? Is he reading the paper in the bathroom?
-Is the newspaper thing really necessary? What does it add to the story?

Um...yeah the "paper thing" is necessary. This story goes along with this picture.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/stor ... =105660765

I wrote it with the idea that the picture will be available to the readers so it's sort of like a long caption.

[Ryan]

2/26 Update

Thanks for the little bit of feedback Wallflower and Calliopenjo. I tried deleting a few of the suggested words and sentences, but when I spoke into the mic those words and sentences just came out and sounded right. Maybe I'm not letting go...but as everyone knows this writing thing is pretty subjective.

This project was a great two-day sidetrack. I couldn't help but add a few images into the video reading (playing with new FLIP camera). Sit back and have a watch-listen.
http://thechinproject.wordpress.com/201 ... est-entry/

Cheers

Now. If I don't get some real "work" done on the baby room, my wife is going to kill me!

[Ryan]

For any of you who wrote something or plan on writing something for the 4th installment, there is a Facebook page to post your past entries. Might as well post it for sharing and feedback. I'm surprised it took this long for a Facebook page to get started. It's fun to see how the picture inspired other people.
http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/ThreeM ... 669?ref=ts