LESSON 4 - THEME

Theme and what if

Lesson Four Exercise – What if. . .? Take out your initial vignette that you are basing your story for our class on. Sit back and take a look at it. Ask yourself what made that particular incident memorable for you. Fix that memory clear in your mind. Now start asking What If . . .? questions. Think up as many What If . . .? questions as you can and write them all down.

After you spend some time thinking up What If . . .? questions, pick four and write out a brief note on each one about what you think might or could happen if the IF did occur.



Original Writing Observation/Inspirations Notebook Entry: This morning I had to scrape sticky frost off the windshield and all windows. It took a good 3 minutes for the car to be warm enough to take the chill vapor off my breath in the car. That’s how I know that the person I saw on the way to work was just silly or careless. I was driving behind her long enough to tell she was not going to pull into any of the three gas stations in that vicinity. Her left rear tire was so low, I feared it would pop on the city street. But she made it to the freeway. I think the penny dropped because she stayed in the number 1 lane and kept the speed down. She must have heard the rubber flapping against the fender, but she kept going.



What if driving on the deflated tire was not an accident?

What if the woman driving the vehicle has more a checkered past that is coming back to haunt her?

What if the woman no longer cares? A. Bobby Ray was a Cajun and I met him back in the 80s. He was a widower for at least ten years. I asked him to tell me about his family. He and his wife were married when he was 16 and she 15 and then he was drafted for Vietnam. He had a love so strong that he made it back in one piece. He had a buddy who protected him from hacksaw surgeons. He must have only been 30 something, but he looked much older. He quit living when his wife was murdered 3 months after his return and he had to raise the kids by himself. I saw a man who was living, but there was no life in his eyes.

What if a mother has to choose between her son and the rest of the family?

What if the woman is lost?

What if the woman has an non-detected medical condition? A. Hello Dear friends, family, and community. It is with the absolute heaviest of hearts, shock, and still ultimate disbelief that I am posting tonight to let everyone officially know that my husband, age 28, very suddenly and unexpectedly passed away last night of what seemed to be a massive heart attack. We still have lots of questions and even as I type this I am waiting to wake from this "bad dream"...

Please know my son and I are doing as well as we can and are being immeasurably loved and supported by family and friends. We know you are and will be grieving right along with us and loving us, and we appreciate all the many ways that will look for everyone.

We will keep everyone posted as we get more details and arrange services.

The best way I can think of to honor his amazing loving spirit is to go love up on the people in your life and let them know how much they mean to you... He did that like a pro every day of his life and all I can say for now is I will do my best to never let the incredibly vibrant light that he was/is go out.

I got some pretty shocking news yesterday.... my good friend Ben passed away. A couple of my favorite things about Ben was he was always a yes, loved being of service, was maddly and deeply in love with his wife and was an extraordinary father. All my love and prayers goes out to the families.

What if the woman has something in the car that cannot get in the wrong hands?

What if the woman in the car is a lifeline for someone?

What if the deflated tire is just the trigger for a series of events that puts her life in danger?

What if this minor event is the one thing that causes the woman to snap?

What if this deflated tire now has the attention of some nasty people?

What if she knows the tire is low? A. What is going on in life that has her so distracted that she forgets to fix something so basic?

What if she just does not care what happens next?

What if she is driving this way on purpose?

What if she is late?

What if no one cares? A. Today, a client told us she pulled into her garage and just sat in her car and cried because people were stealing from her, she was facing bankruptcy, and she was just so sick of all the leeches. I felt bad for her, but I had to ask her to suck it up and face the battle like a woman and not a petulant child. It is so true that people may empathize, but they will still weigh it against their own selfish needs, wants and desires.

What if she is living out of her car?

What if the clock is ticking and the driver is late in a scavenger hunt?

What if the rewards for winning are the same as the consequences for losing?

What if the “woman” is not a woman, but rather something else?

What if the woman had an out of body experience?

What if the woman is a replacement and the replacement still has to do everything that the target would do?















Lesson Four Writing Assignment - What If? Scenarios For your writing assignment this week, select the best of your What If . . .? scenarios and write a 300 to 500 word scene for your story. Be sure your scene includes the initial IF and your answers to what happens as a result of it.







She heard that sound only once before. The telltale flapping of the rubber spinning it’s way off the tire rim. The only thought that drifted across her brain as she tugged on the steering wheel to pull over to stop the vehicle, was that she would be late. She managed to get the vehicle to a lopsided stop. Why did it have to be so blasted cold? Then again did she care? She thought of her options only for a moment before pulling the keys to gaze upon the smiling faces in the photos. Kristin barely noticed that the heat in the vehicle was slowly being replaced by the cold air drifting in from the vents. She should call her roadside assistance company, but what did it matter?

That hurt. She slammed her head against the headrest again. And again. Raising and dropping her head in rhythmic cadence, over and over. Pain seemed to be the only thing that got through the numbness.

The light taps on the window increased in urgency. Kristin recognized the man who had incessantly honked his horn. She did not care then, she did not care now. She deliberately turned her attention to the fog forming on the edges of the windshield and the cars slowly creeping by on the ice and snow covered freeway.

She felt the cold snap of the frigid temperature when he pulled the door open. “Ma’am, do you need help?”

Kristin turned her lifeless eyes upon him. “No.”

“You need the motor running to keep warm while you wait for help.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No.”

“You have a blown tire. Have you called for help?”

Kristin wanted to shut the door, but he would not go. With a quiet sigh, hands folded in her lap, her voice a monotonous string of rushed words. “I know. I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“Ma’am, I’m calling for help. Do you have anyone at home I should call?”

That’s when the tears fell. Slowly at first and then a continuous hiccupping weep. There was a time, a good cry made her feel better. For Kristin, tears only hardened her heart to hate those who murdered her husband, those horrible people who made and set IEDs. Those cowards. Those – those creatures – those monsters -- stole the happy, leaving her gazing on events occurring around her with eyes that had no longer had light left in them.