Friday Writing Response for August 28, 2009

Okay, so I didn't do as much work as I intended for this week's prompt, but I did do some, so I consider it an accomplishment!

I went back and read a story I'd started in high school, titled Generations. Great title, I know, but I was 17, so give me a break. The basic plot of the story was that a son moves back in with his aging father after his mother's death, bringing his 17-year-old daughter with him. Together the three of them learn what it is that they're supposed to get out of this life, overcoming their personal struggles. I still like the general idea of the story, if I could ever get it out on paper. Rereading it, though, I was surprised at how many adverbs I used, especially attached to dialogue tags. Everything was "Riley injected quickly," "Brad said sullenly," etc. For me, most of this was remembering what I liked about the plot, though I could tell my writing had improved in the years since I'd written it.

So, taking a stab in the dark, I attempted to rewrite the beginning. This isn't perfect by any means, and in revision I probably wouldn't keep it, but it's a start.


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At 37, I did not expect to be attending my mother's funeral.

It was always a possibility. Of course, someday your parents pass on and you're sad and you miss them. But you're never ready for it.

And I didn't expect it to come so soon after losing my wife. Becky. My high school sweetheart, the mother of my daughter, Riley.

Mom loved her to pieces. She'd held my hand throughout the funeral, Riley tucked against my other side. She'd cried with me, when i sat there in the emergency room and had the doctor tell me there was nothing more he could do.

Now Mom was gone, too.

I glanced over at the passenger seat. Riley stared out the window, hands playing with her charm bracelet. She'd grown so much in the year since Becky died. I could see traces of the gawky girl with too-long legs, but that was fading more and more by the day. Some days it seemed like I didn't know this woman she'd become, even though I saw her every day.