Writing exercise #1

I'm not a very good writer.

Shh. It's ok. I understand my limitations and continue writing anyway, because I enjoy it. 

I started this blog to stretch my writing muscles. It's a low investment way for me to practice and put something on paper (you know what I mean). There are weeks when I don't feel creative/inspired or up to it, which are the ones when I don't post anything. I like that I'm under no obligation and that so few people read this. It takes a lot of the pressure off. 

But while the lack of deadline is freeing, it also takes away incentive to write something (anything!). So I also like projects that "force" me to work, like Novel in a Day, or the more recent Noella in a Day -"The District." They're small, time sensitive and very doable ventures. 

A friend who also enjoys writing has been suggesting a couple of us write together, just for the fun of it. We could be motivation for each other, since it's easier to carve out time when friends are "counting on you." We've been talking about it for a while and finally decided to give it a shot. We gave ourselves a week on this first project, planning to reconvene while socially distancing around a bonfire tonight. But alas the weather is such that we can't. Stupid storm and rain! 😣

Both friends have taken Neil Gaiman's Master Class, which includes many writing exercises. We decided to use one of them to kick off our writing endeavor. 

Choose a folk tale or fairy tale that you know well.
Select one of the characters from the story for the
following exercise and write a few pages about them,
using one of the following prompts: 

• Pretend you’re a therapist treating the character.
Write a scene in which you discuss the character’s
life and problems, then arrive at a diagnosis. 

• Write a newspaper article describing the events
of the story. For example, Snow White—Woman
Hiding in Woods for Ten Years Found by Wealthy
Hiker. Then write a story for that headline using
journalistic objectivity. 

• Have your character explain their actions to a jury.

We each chose a different option. I picked the first one, pretending to be a fairy tale character's therapist. 

My working title is "Damsel with the Tresses."

###

I’ve made the room intentionally cozy, with warm grey walls and plenty of natural light. I don’t want it to feel oppressive or overcrowded, so I furnished it on the sparse side. The bookcase is only about half full, the reading options varying from psychology related to a few contemporary fictions. My desk, adorned only by a laptop and notepad, has two chairs in front of it, facing a comfortable navy chesterfield couch. These are separated by a low coffee table, upon which sits a couple books and a vase with a single gerbera daisy.

The day begins as usual. Couples in conflict, angsty teens with concerned parents. A man who sees Satan out of the corner of his eye in every mirror he passes. A woman concerned that her cat has taken to wearing a tinfoil hat. I do my best to counsel, comfort and dispel fears.

The highlight of my day, though it feels unprofessional to consider it so, arrives at 5pm. I’ve only seen Rapunzel once, and the time was mostly spent talking about the mundane to allow her the space to feel comfortable so that she can trust me with the obviously bigger issues that caused her to seek professional help.

I open the door to my waiting room and see Rapunzel has arrived. I smile and beckon her inside. She rises carefully, sweeping her impossibly long blonde tresses behind her. She walks in and takes a seat on the couch.

“You have a new flower,” she said, noticing the pink daisy on the coffee table.

“I like to change it out every few days. Flowers brighten up a room, but there’s nothing joyful about one that’s wilting,” I explain.

“Especially roses,” she replied, nodding her head in agreement. “Watching as the petals begin to drift off is quite depressing...like a countdown to the end of the world as you know it.”

“You mentioned you lived in a garden. Was that difficult, watching the plants droop and the flowers fade?”

After pondering a moment, she said. “No, not really. It makes more sense in a garden or out in nature. There’s a progression from seedling to plant, growing flowers or fruit and then withering away. For flowers in a vase, they deteriorate so quickly. There were many lovely flowers surrounding my tower. Some vines even crept up, eventually reaching my window.”

“Your tower?”

“Yes. I suppose...I had better start at the beginning. I’m still piecing together parts of my history myself, but from what I’ve discovered so far, when I was a baby I was taken from my parents by a woman named Gothel. It was because of some pact between them over a plant being stolen from a garden? Something called rampion? It’s weird...I don’t know. That’s one of the things I’m still trying to get a clearer picture of as I figure out who I am exactly.”

I nod, not wanting to break her flow, though I want to say “whoa, back up. You were taken from your parents over what now?” But I’m a professional, so I just make a quick note to circle back to it later.

“I grew up in a lovely meadow in the woods, part way up the side of a mountain. It was quite a solitary existence, with Gothel as my only companion. She told me we lived this way because the world was full of terrors and that she was protecting me from them. Then, for my twelfth birthday, she built a high tower, with no stairs or door, and placed me in a room at the top. She said it was to keep me safe, since she couldn’t be with me at all times. I lived this way for years, the changing seasons my only real calendar, until one morning this small black metal monster flew in my window. I was so scared, I hit it with a frying pan. Obviously I had no way of knowing it was a drone. That’s how I was rescued. The two college students who’d been flying it around the mountain showed up to retrieve it...and they found a bit more than they were expecting,” she finished, with a little chuckle.

“That is a truly incredible story. How have you been managing since?” I asked, wanting to get a broader picture of her situation, before diving into the specifics, such as she’d been living alone for years in a tower!

“Some days are better than others. I’ve reconnected with my parents, which has been good, but also weird. They aren’t very forthcoming about what happened, but I think it’s just because they feel guilty. My mother is the one who suggested I speak with someone, a doctor. I have flashbacks to being left alone in the tower and have had a lot of trouble sleeping since being rescued. The world is so loud and most everything is confusing or scary. That’s why I decided to see someone, to make sense of all this and find a way to make things better. Because I need to sleep...and eat...and acclimate. Meet people and make friends. I want to not be afraid anymore.”

I take a moment and then ask, “What is it that you’re afraid of?”

“Everything?” she said, smiling sadly. “As angry as I am for being taken away from my family and isolated on the side of a mountain, Gothel was right about one thing...the world is a terrifying place! I’d never seen a car before, or a cell phone or more than one other person. You can imagine how traumatizing it was having a giant metal beast charge at me as I crossed the road, or disconcerting to see people walking around seeming to talk to themselves. Also people! There are just so many! A couple times now I have found it very overwhelming. My heart was pounding, I had trouble breathing and felt like running away as far and fast as I could.”

“That is completely understandable,” I reassured her. “From the sound of it, you’re struggling with anxiety and have experienced some panic attacks. When we are overwhelmed, either by emotions or exterior stimulus...sounds, sights, people...it can cause a panic attack. And all these new things, even the good ones, like finding your parents and no longer being alone in a tower, are huge changes in your life. It’s natural to feel unsettled, confused, uneasy and even distressed.”

A chime quietly tinked from my laptop on the desk.

“That hour went by quickly,” Rapunzel remarked, surprised.

I nodded in agreement. “Very quickly. Rapunzel, I hope you find talking about these things helpful - what you went through and what you’re experiencing now - and that you are willing to continue. You mentioned several things I would like to discuss with you in more detail, if you’d like to come back on Friday.”

I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I gave a sigh of relief when Rapunzel said, after briefly pondering, that she would come back for another appointment. I made a few suggestions, recommending some deep breathing techniques that might help ease some of her anxiety when life becomes overwhelming. I escorted her back out to the waiting room, where she made an appointment with my scheduler to return on Friday.

I walked back into my office and woke up the laptop, quickly Googling “drone girl found in forest tower” and began reading the accounts of Rapunzel’s rescue, oblivious to the hours ticking by, as a I went further down the rabbit hole...or up the impossible tower, sort to speak...

###


I'm reasonably pleased with it, though my ability to judge is not to be trusted today. I didn't turn my light off til 2:50am...and then Joey (the Chiwennie) decided to show up outside my bedroom door at 3:15am. Did I mention my alarm went off at 6:20am? So, yeah...

Hope everyone has a great Memorial Day weekend. Have fun and stay safe!



~ Katie Q. 🐧



I've seen a lot of these memes floating around Facebook, but this one is my favorite so far.