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How to Write a Story
How to Write a Story
By Arvin W.
Begin with an idea. It doesn’t have to be good, but it’ll seem ingenious at the time. Scramble to y our desk while the idea is still fresh in your mind. Fumble through the mess of papers, whiskey, and Chinese takeout boxes in search of a pen and a clean sheet of paper. Find a pen with its tip exposed. Attempt to write before realizing that the pen is empty. Lick the tip, trying to revive the pen. When that fails, curse and toss the pen at the wall. Search through your room for another pen. Find one in a takeout box.
Begin writing your story. Initially, the words should flow freely; you may even complete a page in a few minutes. Slowly notice the flaws in your writing. Convince yourself to continue, everyone says it is better to revise after. Find a huge flaw in your story. Let it stop you. Contemplate various ways to rework the story. Fail and let your mind wander. Wonder how that stain got on the wall. Look out the window and count the cars passing by. Think about other things you could be doing: the friends you could be annoying, the TV you’re missing, the whiskey you’re not drinking. Take a swig. Take another, and another.
Wake up in a puddle, with paper stuck to your face. Crumple the paper and toss it near the trash bin. Try to remember what you were doing. Head to the bathroom. Vaguely recall your story idea. Adjust your aim. Flush the toilet. Look in the mirror. Ignore the mirror. Flop down in the front of your desk. Recalled a failed idea form the past. Confuse it with the story you’re working on. Shuffle through the papers on your desk, looking for your recent story. Eventually give up and search for a clean sheet. Grab the pen on the side of your desk.
Begin writing your story.
Trading Places
Trading Places
By Fabio P.
We would meet at home after work drink Campari and go to the sauna. Religiously we would sit in the sauna, until the sweat dripped down our chest. He would tell me about Sweden, how they loved the sauna. Then we would jump in the pool, then the hot tub. After that the pool again, then the sauna and the pool once more. “It helps the immune system”, he told me, “In Sweden they go to sauna then they jump in the lake”. “I read about that when researching Finland back in high school” I told him once, “Sometimes they even have sauna out in the middle of the lake”. “Every building has a sauna. Usually on the top floor”, he would say, “and they love vodka and strawberry juice”. He was so much cooler than I ever was he traveled the world, alone.
He would talk about his journey. How he ended up with a son and a full time job surprised me sometimes. He told me how it all happened, but it never seemed like those were his intensions. He wanted to go to Australia. No wife, no kid. But shit happened. We started living together when I was twenty. I got the living room he got the bedroom. He still seemed like the seventeen year old kid he was in his stories.
We would drink together, a beer at dinner or a few beers at a club. Once we got drunk at home, it was the night before he went to Italy. We were taking shots in our kitchen that was the size of a large cubicle, except we had the gold-flaked black granite counter tops. On the sixth shot I mentioned that I might need to slow down, I will never forget what he said.”Slow down, what are you? A pussy?” Poking me in the chest, “You will get this shot! Don’t be fucking pussy!” I took the shot and many more after, without throwing up. I felt comfortable being with my dad, sturdy not wobbly. I would have thrown up with any one else. Before he went to sleep that night he told me. “Tomorrow my son, I will be in Italy, drinking with my dad, and tomorrow I will the son and he will be the father”.