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Printed from https://writing.com/main/newsletters/action/archives/id/3973-Is-it-me-Or-is-it-hot-in-here.html
Drama: September 15, 2010 Issue [#3973]

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Drama


 This week: Is it me? Or is it hot in here?
  Edited by: Fyn Author IconMail Icon
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Table of Contents

1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions

About This Newsletter

"I'm trying very hard to understand this generation. They have adjusted the timetable for childbearing so that menopause and teaching a sixteen-year-old how to drive a car will occur in the same week."~~Erma Bombeck

"Don't think of it as getting hot flashes. Think of it as your inner child playing with matches."~~annon

"There is no more creative force in the world than the menopausal woman with zest."~~ Margaret Mead

"The heyday of woman's life is the shady side of fifty.~~Elizabeth Cady Stanton



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Letter from the editor

Hubby wraps all four of the NY Strips together before putting them in the freezer. So there are two extra because there are only two of us. ("We might have guests and we'll have these waiting," he says) Hubby decides to thaw and cook the four NY Strips on the grill, so he''ll have left-overs for lunch. (Who brings steak to lunch at the shop in the first place?) The extras and the left over potatoes and vegies that, I, of course, cooked so there will be something to go with the steak at lunch are all on the counter.

Hubby's conveniently on the phone with his best buddy. His food is now cold. I finish my lonely dinner and decide to make some pudding. Temper wicks. (Someday they will figure out how to implant a cellphone inside his ear and he will be in 7th heaven!)

I'm trying to pour the 'cook on the stove' version of chocolate pudding into desert bowls before it hardens in the pot. Where are the ones I use specifically for pudding? On the very tip-top shelf, of course. Did I put them up where I can't reach? Of course not. I don't even know what else is up there! I can't reach it. I can't see it. It is a veritable no-woman's land up there. . .something like that cabinet on top of the fridge!

Hubby, who could reach it, is now on the phone with another buddy ranting about the unfair call during the football game. "Hang on a second, hon," he motions. The pudding is beginning to congeal in the pot. Temper flares.

So I'm stretching to r-e-a-c-h them. Fingers j-u-s-t gaining contact with one. SOMEONE (who shall remain nameless) stacked smaller ones inside the up-side-down bowls, and they come crashing down on the counter. Now, mind you, the counter is covered in left-overs. But those glass bowls manage to find the one square inch or so that isn't covered with food and shatter. Broken glass all over the food.

Hubby hears the string of unlady-like words spewing forth and asks, What happened, hon?" Then he tells his sister, "Oh, nothing. Robin broke a glass," and goes on talking.

MELTDOWN!

It is amazing that the sum of a glass bowl is not the pieces of its whole, as there were enough shards of glass to rebuild at least six of them! There I was, in bare feet and glass EVERYWHERE! Steaks, food, broken glass all in the trash. Gingerly stretch to reach the broom and sweep the floor. What a mess.

Hubby is now in the computer room giggling with someone (on the phone) about hearing words out of me he never hears. Hmmm Shouldn't that have been a clue?

Pudding has now adhered to the pot. I make him PB&J sandwiches for lunch, grab the can of whipped cream, the pot of chocolate pudding, and a spoon and repair to the living room where I squirt three times more whipped cream than is necessary into the pot (hubby hates whipped cream) and proceed to indulge. (All the while ignoring that this totally defeats my last week of dieting.)

Umpteen phone calls later, he wanders in to the living room and surveys the half-eaten pudding and innocently asks, "Where's mine?" As I stalk out of the room and down the hall, I hear from the kitchen, "Did you make my lunch? Oh yeah, you did. Peanut butter? I thought I was having steak?"

I went to bed.

Have I exaggerated this just a wee bit? Yes. But my point is that no relationship is perfect all the time. And people can get waaaay bent out of shape for ridiculous reasons. Add to that the vagaries of a woman of 'a certain age' who (in the winter) has turned the heat down to 40 degrees because "I'm hot," not really caring if everyone else is freezing to death (If you are cold, put on a sweater--do you expect me to run around the house naked?) and well, the results are not very pretty.

Let your characters fight. Let them release that pent up steam. Let them (intentionally) break something. Let them be real. Use women that are older (ahem:note I said older. . .not old!) in your writing. Life doesn't stop after 40. Or 50. Or 60. *grin*






Editor's Picks

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 My Garden of Peace (Now with audio) Open in new Window. (ASR)
A song I wrote while looking out of my window thinking about all the wars in the world.
#890989 by Ann Ticipation Author IconMail Icon


 Tangled Vines Open in new Window. (13+)
A meditative poem of mine ("The tangled vines that slither through my mind...")
#1707510 by Onyx Wolf Author IconMail Icon


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A new contest to check out!

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Ask & Answer

sarahreed writes in:It's a proven fact that most of our communication is non-verbal, which is why description is so important when writing a dramatic piece. Describing what someone is wearing and how they are acting gives meaning to what they say. It's like the difference between reading a play and going to see that play acted out across the stage. Often times, it's the latter that really moves us, even when the words touch, a performance can be so much more powerful.

{b:} And why in our writing, it is so important to really describe what is all around the characters, thus bringing in a sense of focus and enough detail to make it 'real.'

Joy Author IconMail Icon comments:Thanks, Fyn. *Smile* Surely, drama is everywhere once we learn how to spot it. *Wink*

Exactly! And then have the words to transport it to the page!

Fiona Hassan Author IconMail Icon says: When I read what you said about the raindrops, I tried to think of something to say but couldn't. What you said was so true though! Oh, and about the play where the people just sat there - it reminds me of when my friends and I are in class and our teachers are always telling us not to look at each other because it counts as talking. And it totally does! That's why my best friend and I can't sit next to each other in class. lol :)

Thank you! *imagines entire in-class conversations across the room*

Adriana Noir Author IconMail Icon adds: How very true! I bet that was an interesting scene to watch. So much can be said and done without ever saying a word!

and even in writing we CAN communicate this!

isshipen writes:It's the first real thing I've written that could be considered drama, but I think it turned out well and that people would be able to take from it. Thanks!

You are most welcome. It is an excellent piece!

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