Day 1

 

I didn't wake up especially early.  I needed to be in Durham Hall by 9 am to start the conference, but that didn't mean I had to be up until 8:30 am.  I assumed that I'd be missing breakfast, but food seemed almost laughable when measured against the importance of all-mighty sleep. 

And boy did I sleep hard.  I woke up with my contacts so glued to my eyes, that it took a couple yawns (with the consequential eye-watering) before I could even see decently.  My throat felt like I had gargled with a cheese grater.  I made a note to apologize profusely for my neighbors who had to listen to me all night.

The rooms, by the way, are pretty decent.  Well, that's a lie.  They're actually quite crappy.  But I was expecting to have a roommate, and so when I discovered that we all had our own rooms (the bootcamp people, anyway) I was so damned giddy.  That had meant no awkward greetings, no uncomfortable fumbling around in the dark – hoping to not wake the roommate.  They're made almost entirely out of wood.  Walking in, one immediately smells the scent of an old house.  Virginia is hot and muggy, and the wood seems all too aware of it.

Each room has it's own air conditioner, which is nice.  I would HATE having to enter into negotiations over what temperature to set it at.  My only complaint?  My mom's laptop doesn't have a network connection for me to plug in with.  Then again, I'd probably be very much less productive anyway.  It is already taking all of my strength to ignore Spider Solitare, which is calling my name.

The first day of bootcamp itself was pretty cool.  Largely, what I've noticed, is that Card (remember him?  He's the one who is running this shindig) basically covers his book, Characters and Viewpoint, with a few added bonuses.  I'm not going to bore you with all of those details, since I'm sure if you're at all interested, you've already read the book.  I will include some of the things that I thought were interesting, that I hadn't thought of before.  But, I'll do that later.

One of the truly dreadful (and thrilling) things that he did was examine some of the bootcamp application entries.  Basically in order to get into bootcamp, one had to submit an application along with the first page of a short story.  Thus, he'd be able to see if there was potential in what someone was writing – or if they were a hopeless goober.  Well, he handed them all out (anonymous, of course) had us read them all, and then opened them for discussion.  Mine was among the six discussed.  I have never had a piece of mine workshopped before, and it was a terrifying experience.  Several obvious and helpful things were pointed out to me, along with some very encouraging comments.  Most gleefully, however, was when Card said, "So far, I'd keep going with this one.  The writer made a promise I'd like to see fulfilled."  Needless to say, I peed a little bit.  Now granted, since I know how the rest of the story goes, I know that it doesn't fulfill anything and that he'd actually think me quite a hack if he were to see it – but he didn't, and that's all that matters.

We have several sessions, interrupted with a break and refreshments or a meal.  I meet several interesting people.  I find that several of the bootcampers are already published and some with work I've even read and admired.  That was quite thrilling. 

At the end, Card hands out the homework.  He gives us five notecards, a partner, and tells us to go out into the world, with our new found techniques, and come up with five stories.  Write their bare-bone sinews on the notecards for presentation tomorrow.  The idea was to do an interview, get two ideas from books, and two ideas from everyday life.  My partner and I, Jackie from Dallas, drove to Lexington (an adjacent town) only to discover that life in hicktown Virginia closes up at about 5:30pm.  Nothing is open.  Nothing.  I'm surprised they didn't padlock the streets.

It wouldn't have helped anyway, I suspect.  I've never been good with coming up with stories on the fly.  So, I did my best.  I wrung my brain with both hands, and the distilled drops of a single story fell out onto a notecard.  At that point, I figured one story was better than nothing.

There was another, and final, assignment.  Write 250 words, in 3^rd person, of an hour in the recent life of myself.  I picked an hour while I was driving.  It isn't even all that interesting, but I'll post it just because I can:

 

Oliver flipped on his turn signal and made for the exit.  He had been driving for nearly eight hours and needed to refuel, and not just the car.  He pulled into Chico's gas station (nearly two cents cheaper than the SA on the corner), a small store with just two pumps.

            The gas pumped, and he washed his bug-smattered windshield, dreading having to get back into the car.  The gas handle clicked, and a quick glance at the price meter confirmed that he now owed two first-born sons for his purchase.  He muttered something unsavory.

            Inside, Oliver meandered to a pizza stand with a sign that read "Pizza Express" over it.  There was a lamp-warmed tray with pre-made boxed pizza sitting on it, a cash register, and no one standing behind it.  He stood quietly, eyeing the last remaining box labeled "cheese".  The attendant standing behind the gas station counter watched him with apparent disinterest.  After a moment, Oliver spoke.

            "Excuse me.  Where do I pay for the pizza?" He picked up the box.  A little neon-orange sticker said it was $3.69.  A steal compared to the molten gold he had just pumped into his car.

            "They're closed," the attendant said.

            "Oh," said Oliver.  He put the box back and took a step away from the stand, slightly nonplussed and largely annoyed.

            "I can ring that up over here, though.  If you want."

            Oliver took a deep breath.  No sense insulting the man's questionable parentage.  Not until after the pizza is eaten, anyway.  He was hungry, after all, and one did remarkable things when necessary.

            Money exchanged hands, and Oliver left the store.

 

There you have it.  It isn't that pretty, but it got the job done and convinced everyone that I did indeed know how to write in POV.  Writing this took all of about 3 minutes.  The writing I have no difficulty with.  What I find hard is coming up with a story that I don't instantly hate and despise myself for having thought up.

Oh well.  Perhaps I shall improve!

I think the best part is that I could imagine myself in your shoes in that last 250-word story. Maybe it is because I know you and how you are but the story was very nicely written and I can feel the characters discontent with the world on the road of course also the character's discontent for everything...ALTHOUGH...I know that person Haha Overall I really liked it and you know it has the beginnings of a story that could be very interesting! I know you are thinking but so much could happen that never actaully did happen, you kow what I mean

Yep, I could also picture myself in your shoes, but I think it is because I know you

Yep, I could also picture myself in your shoes, but I think it is because I know you.

Also, at least I know an experianced writer like yourself has a hard time coming up with ideas on the fly. Then again I probably should not talk...