January 2014 Issue of The Scribblers Newsletter

Welcome to the January 2014 issue of The Scribblers. We wish you a happy, healthy, prosperous, safe and creative 2014 and hope that your writing is moving in the direction that you want.  We also hope that you will submit some of your work to be included in the monthly newsletter.

This month we have the second segment of the progressive story, 'The Letter', writing prompts, and some writing quotes from famous authors.

January Writing Prompts

Each month we try to provide a couple of prompts for you to use. Pick one or more and write 750 to 1,000 words using the prompt/s as the basis of your story.  Most of all, have fun with it.

1.  Ben had lived in this tiny house when he was single.  Now he was moving back into it with his wife and his big black lab, Sadie.

2.  Susan was happy that her former employer called to offer her a temporary part time job, but the reality of doing that job was not what she had bargained for.

3.  Pat walked outside on Monday morning to find the car he had just bought from the used car dealer around the corner, sitting on cinder blocks missing its wheels.

Quotes About Writing from Well Known Authors

 1. E. M. Forster - “The historian records, but the novelist creates.”

 2.  Mark Twain -  “Substitute 'damn' every time you're inclined to write 'very;' your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.”

 3.  Douglas Adams - “I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.”

 4.  Maya Angelou - “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

 5.  Harper Lee - “Any writer worth his salt writes to please himself... It's a self-exploratory operation that is endless. An exorcism of not necessarily his    demon, but of his divine discontent.”

 6.  George Orwell - “Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout with some painful illness. One would never undertake such a      
thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”

 7.  Ernest Hemingway - “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

 8.  Virginia Woolf - “Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.”

 9.  Toni Morrison - “If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.”

10  Truman Capote - “To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music that words make.”

11.  Saul Bellow - “You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.”

12.  Oscar Wilde - “There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.” 

 
13.  Anais Nin - “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”

14.  Franz Kafka - “I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so
it all proceeds into deepest darkness.”

15.  Robert Frost - “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.”

16.  William Faulkner - “Read, read, read. Read everything - trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an   apprentice and studies the master. Read! You'll absorb it. Then write. If it's good, you'll find out. If it's not, throw it out of the window.”

17.  Kurt Vonnegut - “Here is a lesson in creative writing. First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing        absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college.”

18   Charles Dickens - “I have nothing else to tell; unless, indeed, I were to confess that no one can ever believe this narrative, in the reading, more than I have believed it in the writing.”

 
19.  Neil Gaiman - “Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.”

20.  Stephen King - “If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.” 

 The Letter

a progressive story by the Scribblers members (Continued)

Part 4 - Colleen Weikel

          The old guy behind the counter smiled at Tyler.  “Looking for a job, son?”  Tyler nodded and the man shook his head.  “Even jobs at Walmart are hard to get right now.  All the big companies are scared shitless of Obamacare because the insurance companies have been making it sound like it will put them out of business, so they’re cutting hours, laying off higher paid workers.  As if there are a lot of high paid workers at Walmart,” he said looking like he was truly sorry.

          Tyler dropped the pen on the glass topped counter, taking note of the older man for the first time.  “What are people supposed to do?  Christmas is coming.  My dad died a couple of years ago and Mom is doing the best she can, but with 5 younger kids, we can’t make ends meet if I don’t find work.”

          “Son, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but there’s not a decent job around right now.  Unless you want to work 10 hours a week or so.”

          Tyler shook his head sadly, “No sir, but thanks so much for your honesty.  I’ll just have to figure something out,” he said and walked out onto the street. 

           

At the small dining room table in The Residence, President Obama praised Malia for her vegetarian Sloppy Joes.  “I never thought I could like tofu Sloppy Joes, but those were delicious.  And the sweet potato fries” he put his hand over his heart, “were to die for.”  He smiled at his 15 year old daughter whose face flushed at her father’s praise.

          “Gee, Dad, no big deal.” 

          “No, Malia, not ‘gee Dad’.  They were really good.  Even Chef Comerford couldn’t have improved on them, and that is a big deal. ” He smiled and said, “You need to learn to accept compliments, honey.“

          Michelle loved watching the kids with their father.  They weren’t at all impressed that he was the President.  He was just Dad to them and that’s the way she thought it should be.

          “Daddy’s right, Sweetie.  You both do so many things so well that you will receive lots of compliments throughout your life.  A modest ‘thank you’ is all you need to say,” she patted her oldest daughter’s hand.  Looking to her left, she said, “Are you listening, Sasha?”

          Sasha nodded and took another bite.  She was very into tofu and  Sloppy Joes with sweet potato fries were her favorite.  She was enjoying them to the max.

          After dinner, the First Family remained at the table talking about their day just like many other families did every night.  Michelle was planning another garden for D.C. school kids to plant in the spring.  Malia had a math test tomorrow, but was sure she ‘had it covered’, and Sasha asked her dad to sign a permission slip to go on a school field trip to the Smithsonian.

          The President cleared his throat before anyone could ask about the shutdown.  It had been on his mind and kept him awake for weeks and he didn’t want to contaminate his family time with more talk of it.  It seemed never-ending, but the letter was important to him.   “I read a letter today that I would like to read to you and I’d like you all to tell me what you think I should do, ok?”

          Michelle and the girls had tears in their eyes by the time he was halfway through reading.  By the end, Malia and Sasha were sobbing and Michelle was wiping tears from her cheeks.

          “We have to do something for this family,” Michelle said, her voice thick. 

 

          “Daddy, please do something.  You can use the money in my bank account if you want,” Sasha offered.

          “Dad, whatever you were going to buy me for Christmas, use the money for these people.  We have everything.  We always have.  But this lady’s family has nothing.  It isn’t right for people to have to live that way,” said Malia, choking on her words.

Part 5: Alexis Faro

          On Day 60 of the government shutdown the situation was still in a deadlock.  President Obama cancelled dozens of international meetings to show his dedication to the country, while some senators went on a paid vacation back to their hometown.

Several communities and non-profits created events and fundraisers to help those in need.  The nationwide Wounded Warriors Project helped vets collect $500, but only 40,000 of the millions who relied on their monthly checks.  Starbucks improved their promotional marketing by providing customers with free fruit (ditching the old idea of buying a desert for the customer behind them for a cheap cup of coffee).  Food pantries quickly went dry and neighborhoods shared weekend potlucks on a weekly basis.  Bartering was at its peak since the Great Depression, and stocks fell for Walmart despite their 25% price cuts to lure more customers.  Produce became a gamble without the CDC inspecting amounts of pesticide used, especially with farmers trying to save money in a slow market.

  Glenn Beck’s $500 Doomsday kits sold and an IPO for his new company (Mavericks For America) launched almost overnight after Fox promoted it.  The only reason they became so popular was because Donald Trump was offering golden tickets to get onto his show.  The only reason Donald stayed profitable was for investing so heavily in China, who began flooding the market with cheap products in superstores.

An anonymous letter was leaked to the media with a comment at the bottom reading “This level of poverty and tragedy is an outrage for our people to face.  I’ve tried using my executive powers to initiate a committee to oversee these letters, and even propose a bill in congress called Santacare.  The Speaker has not brought this to the floor, despite the children and parents who ask for blankets, shoes, jobs, heat, and less fighting.  I need families to do what Congress cannot – work together to help those in need.  I’m calling on all of Santa’s helpers out there to come together and give our children a brighter future. – BO ”  

After the letter went viral, a new non-profit organization – Operation Santa – was created to help the children, mothers, fathers, veterans, and anyone writing letters addressed to Santa Claus.  People could go to their local post office to adopt a letter and fulfill it from their own generosity.

Part 6—Jamie Baker

(Note:  I’ve elected to modify Colleen’s development in part 4.  I’ve chosen to have Ty remain at home and take a seasonal job with Walmart instead of joining Richie on his job search out west.)

 

Ty unlocked his bike from the rack in front of the public library.  He’d used one of the libraries computers to check emails and his Career Link account.  Of course, there were no job offers but there was an email from Richie.  

Ty wheeled carefully out into the street.  It was only 6 PM, but already dark and the batteries on his bike light had died 2 weeks ago.  He hadn’t wanted to spend the money to replace them, so he learned to avoid blinds spots and the blocks where the street lights were burned out.  It was only a 15-minute ride to home and he watched his breath fogging in the cold night air while he thought about Richie’s email. 

 

The lights were on in the living room and kitchen as Ty pulled his bike up onto the front porch.  He knew his mother was home, she hardly went out since her part time job at Head Start had ended with the government shut down.  Ty did all the grocery shopping, using his 10% employee discount at Walmart.  Twice a week, Linda, the woman who rented the upstairs apartment, drove Ty over to the Walmart while his mother watched all the kids, including Linda’s 2 girls.  In exchange for the ride, Ty let Linda use his discount, even though he knew he could lose his job if anyone found out.  They were always careful to shop together and load everything into one cart.  At home they spread everything out on the kitchen table, split up the goods and Linda paid for her share. 

 

It was working out pretty well, the bills were getting paid and everyone was eating.  Until today that is.  At the end of his shift, Ty’s supervisor told him his job status was changing. 

“We not getting all our deliveries and the warehouse surpluses are just about gone.  Until the government puts the customs officials back to work at the air and sea ports, the trucks have nothing to deliver and there isn’t any work for you.”

He went on to explain that Walmart had to control labor costs while the economy was so uncertain and that even if deliveries should pick up again, Walmart wasn’t going to call anyone back this season.  So that was the end of his job and his 10% discount. 

  

Instead of going into his own apartment, he took the back stairs up to Linda’s apartment.  He could see her, stirring something in a pot on the stove.  She was slim and blond and not that much older than he was.  He’d had a crush on her ever since she moved in last summer.   Her husband, Nick, was in the Army and stationed in Afghanistan.   His pay had been suspended a month ago. 

Ty tapped on the door.  Linda looked over her shoulder at him, smiled and gestured him in. 

“Howdy neighbor.  Coffee’s fresh, help yourself.  I’ve got the grocery list ready for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why I came up.  There’s a problem.  We’re gonna have to do our shopping at the food pantries and Dollar General.”

“What?  Did someone rat on us?  Shit!  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“No, it wasn’t that.  I got laid off because there’s no truck deliveries coming in.”

“Crap.  No deliveries?  If Walmart can’t get any deliveries, who can?”

“I don’t know, but let’s go out tomorrow just like normal and see what we can scrounge up.”

“Okay, sounds good to me.  Casey, Dakota, wash up and get in for dinner.  Ty, we’ve got chili here and lots of it.  Why don’t you eat dinner with us?”

“No, my mom’s got dinner waiting for me, but listen, I got an email from Richie.”

“What’s he say?  Where is he?”

“He’s in Truckee, California.  He got a lead on work on a Christmas tree farm.  Anyway, he says he was trying to hitch a ride and he noticed this big commotion in a car that was parked behind a convenience store.  He went over to see if there was a problem and there was a fucking bear in the car, rocking the car and ripping up the door panels trying to get out.”

“A bear?  A wild bear?  In a car?”

“Yeah, turns out the bears out there have learned how to get into cars looking for picnic baskets and such, but not so good at getting back out if the door closes.  But Richie didn’t know that yet.  Anyway, he opens the door and the bear busts out of the car and runs into the woods just as a truck is pulling into the lot and this woman gets out.  Richie says she was dressed like she was on safari and she tells him she’s a wildlife wrangler; she’d been called to get the bear out of the car and she offers Richie a job because her husband, who was also her business partner, had just run off to Vegas with some bimbo.    So now Richie is dressing like a big game hunter and learning how to wrangle bothersome moose and raccoons and I’m here, wondering where I’m gonna get the next week’s groceries”

Part 7 – John Matthews

“Well, my friends it is happening.  Just as I predicted   Our good President Obama, unwilling to compromise to end the shutdown, has turned to a “feel good” program to build up his image.  He claims his “Santacare” project, which congress has wisely refused to pass, will run as a distinctly voluntary project by concerned citizens to help the poor. “ The voice of Rush Limbaugh rumbled over the radio.

“But make no mistake, my friends, this just means that the money for this project will come directly from your pockets, while the President gets credit for the program. 

 

“What a shameless act to subvert the wishes congress has voted on.  The poor of this country will be better off if you ignore the “Santacare” program and force the democrats to take action to allow the poor to help themselves, instead of taking your money.”

Malia Obama listened to Rush Limbaugh's radio program.  Her dad thought she deserved to hear the opposition and didn't try to censor what she was exposed to.

“Oh, Daddy,” she said,” Now he's blaming you for trying to help the poor.  How can a man be so hateful?”

“He believes what he's saying, even though it's wrong,” said the President.  “In our country, everyone gets to talk.”

“I know, Dad, but I wish I could think of a way to counter his accusations.”

Malia wasn't being truthful with her dad.  She'd already thought of a way.

Ty didn't have the resources of Malia Obama, but he decided to do his best.   He returned to Walmart and took a job that provided only 5 hours of work per week.  The pay was minimal, but still gave him the 10% discount.  The manager figured he couldn't afford to buy much anyway.   Ty recruited some neighbors and offered to buy them discount groceries with his discount.  But the real payoff would come from his ability to pilfer toys and small appliances and sell them to other down and outers who couldn't afford to pay retail.

One day he was working in the stockroom, opening cartons of Mr. Coffeemakers  and stowing one out of every twelve in his secret place where he could remove them later without going through security.

“Ty!” He froze at the voice of his manager.  Was he caught?

But no.  The manager stood there beside an attractive young girl with light chocolate skin, who was smiling at him.  

“Ty,” said the manager, “ I want you to teach this girl, I mean this young lady, how to stock shelves.  Do a good teaching job and I might give you an extra 5 hours of work.”

The manager left and Ty just stood there staring at this beautiful girl whose face was very familiar. He'd seen it on TV and in the papers.  

“Yes, it's me,” said Malia Obama.  “I can tell you recognize me.  Everybody does.  But please don't blow my cover.  It was hard enough getting my secret service guy to go along with this plan.  He's over there, dressed as a homeless person, and opening cartons of Buzz Lightyear figures.”

Part 7 – Colleen Weikel

“Do your parents…” Ty stammered.

Malia grinned, “No, they think I’m out shopping.  And tomorrow they’ll think I’m at the library and the day after they’ll think…well, you get the idea.”

“B-but why?”  Ty was dumbfounded.  Of all the people in the world to find in a Walmart store, Malia Obama wasn’t one of them.  She was smart, she was cute, she was the President’s daughter.  And she was stocking shelves at Walmart? 

“I’ll tell you, but you should start my training so your boss doesn’t catch us doing nothing.”

Ty nodded and instructed her on the fine points of shelf stocking.  Between instructions, Malia explained what she was doing and why it was so important that Ty keep her confidence.

“After dinner last Wednesday, my dad read us all a letter he had received from a woman who has six children and no job.  She said there was no money for anything but the bare necessities.  No money for Christmas gifts for her children.  No money to keep the heat on in her apartment while the children are at school.  Barely enough money for food.  She wouldn’t have that if one of her kids wasn’t working part time.”

Ty thought of his own mom and how similar the woman’s story was to hers, with the exception of turning off the heat while the kids were away.

“Yeah, things are tough for a lot of people, I guess,” he said, “but that doesn’t tell me why you’re here.”

“I’m here to experience first-hand how that family is working and struggling to keep a roof over their head and provide for each other.”  She shuffled her feet nervously.  “My sister and I have always had everything.  We have no idea what it’s like to be in a position of needing or wanting anything. “

The envious half-sneer on Ty’s face made her pause.  “I know,” she said, “I know that sounds naïve.  But Ty, both of my parents are lawyers.  They always made good money.  In fact, my dad has made less money since he’s been president than he has since he worked for my mom in his first job.  Weird, huh?”

 “Did you just say your dad worked for your mom?” 

“Yep!  His first job was in a law firm, Sidley and Austin in Chicago, as a civil rights lawyer and he taught constitutional law there, too.  He was assigned a personal mentor, Michelle Robinson, who later married him and became Michelle Obama, my mom.

”But what I’m trying to say is that neither Sasha or I have ever had to do real work for anything.  Not like you do, like your parents do.”

“My dad died a few years ago, so it’s just my mom and us kids.  I’m the oldest, so I was working here full time until the shutdown furloughed the customs officials, so very little in the way of stock is coming in anymore.  I was laid off, but then they needed someone for 5 hours a week, which was better than nothing.  So I took it.  At least it gives me a 10% discount on groceries.  And every little bit helps.”

“Oh, Ty, I’m so sorry.“

She looked so sad that it made Ty laugh.  He patted her shoulder, sighed and said, “I guess it’s just the luck of the draw.  It is what it is and we all do the best we can.”  “The best we can,” he thought, “the best we can shouldn’t include stealing from my employer.  It’s needed money, but it’s wrong on so many levels…”

“…do you?” Ty was brought back from his thoughts, but not soon enough to hear what Malia had asked.

“Sorry, my mind was somewhere else.  What did you say?”

“Do you think I’m ready to do this by myself?  I know you have other stuff to do.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I think so.  I’ll be over in aisle 13 if you need me.  But, um, what should I call you?”

“Annie, Annie O’Brian.  Ann is my middle name and O’Brian is as close to my name as I can get.  Do I look Irish?” she laughed.

“Um… not so Irish, but a good name.  I better get to work.”  He walked away, back to his secret place to be sure everything was still there, then to aisle 13.

   And Finally...

We are always looking for articles and short stories to publish, as well as suggestions for the newsletter.  Please send any ideas, stories, etc. to colleen.  We'd love to see any contributions you'd like to make to The Scribblers.
 

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