The Writing Circle met on the June 27 to share their revisions of the Mindy and Ralph story. All stayed true to what each believed was the heart of the story. Patrick Caldwell kept it suspenseful. Ellen Cahill delved deeper into human psychology. Rita Simas cleaned out all the dark cobwebs and preserved her happy ending. She even found a picture of Mindy's house. (Check out the google street views of 8th and Kalamath.)
The Circle will meet again on July 11 at 6:30 p.m. We will have a potluck again. Call the store if you want to know what kind of food to bring. Your assignment for the next meeting is to create two characters and to flesh them out as much as possible. Answer as many questions as you can about your creations (what are their names, where were they born, do they have family, do they like ice cream, etc.). If you have a hard time coming up with a character, just sit and watch people. That man walking around with the gold chains on his wrist and the bathroom scale under his arm...what's his name and what the heck is he going to do with the scale? That pressed and starched lawyer crossing the 13th Street bridge near Speer...is he somehow related to the rumpled and dirty man flying a sign near the corner of 13th and Speer?
In subsequent meetings, we'll have the characters meet one another and see what happens.
Showing posts with label Writing Circle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing Circle. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
And they lived happily ever after?
The Writing Circle met last Friday to end the saga of Mindy the mindful code enforcement officer. The group had three very different endings to the tale. Ellen Cahill continued with the psychological approach. Mindy and fast fingered Wiley met. Although Mindy escaped without bodily injury, Wiley had his revenge. Patrick Caldwell brought Alexis back into the story. Could it be that Alexis died some time ago and Wiley (a.k.a Ralph) had something to do with that death? Rita Simas opted for the happy ending. Mindy bought 823 Santa Fe and remodeled it. Wiley the man found help for all the problems that kept him on the streets. Wiley the dog moved in with Mindy's cat, AND the two beasts actually got along.
The Writing Circle will meet again on June 27 at 6:30. (Yes, that's a Friday.) I asked the circle to do an individual rewrite of the story, find the story's core, then eliminate all of the extraneous bits that don't belong to the core. This means favorite characters may have to go. This means characters need to be consistent in their words, deeds, and actions.
No mention was made of potluck, but Miss Prothero's Books will probably put out a snack. If you come, you're welcome to bring something to share.
The Writing Circle will meet again on June 27 at 6:30. (Yes, that's a Friday.) I asked the circle to do an individual rewrite of the story, find the story's core, then eliminate all of the extraneous bits that don't belong to the core. This means favorite characters may have to go. This means characters need to be consistent in their words, deeds, and actions.
No mention was made of potluck, but Miss Prothero's Books will probably put out a snack. If you come, you're welcome to bring something to share.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Fast Fingered Wiley
The Writing Circle keeps cranking out episodes for the days of Mindy's life. Ellen Cahill won the lottery for segment 3. Her piece is pasted below. The circle's next meeting is June 13 at 6:30. (Yes, that's Friday the 13th.) We will once again attempt a potluck. Ellen was so excited about winning the lottery that she volunteered to bring a pasta entree. Miss Prothero's Books will provide cups, plates, eating utensils and a non-alcoholic drink. Call the store if you need to know what food to bring (303-572-2260). You should also bring your segment 4. Start where Ellen left off. You may write as many pages as you please, include a note on weather, include an end to the story, and include a new character or a character who has been forgotten. You should plan to have someone come out of the bookstore.
"Hey, Mindy, whassup!" Annie the receptionist said without looking up from the Internet site she was trolling. She was a cheerful sort, but given over to quick boredom and a lack of interest in her job responsibilities, even though they were minimal for the salary she earned. Her dad was Mindy’s boss, Sam. It was a case of nepotism, like so many city jobs. Friends and family made up eighty percent of the personnel in any division of Denver’s Public Works -- one big familia, from receptionist to sanitary worker.
"You watch too much TV," Mindy snapped, referring to Annie’s penchant for adopting the most recent vernacular. In this case it was that stupid beer commercial the won super Bowl fame. It you worked in city codes, you had to enter the Super Bowl pool by betting on a game spread and then generally talking about the event as if was the Second Coming. Mindy lacked the skill and interest for the social bonding required of football fanatics.
It was obvious that Mindy was out of sorts when she returned to the office. She was feeling foolish and scammed by Wiley P. downing. She hadn’t felt that way when she offered to get burgers after their meeting at 823. Now her naiveté brought up old wounds. It was exactly how she felt her first and only year of teaching at Cole Middle School. In reminded her of the cunning and sometimes ruthless ways the kids would flatter and the set her up as the butt of a new prank. She tried to laugh off the tricks like the time
Albie pretended to drop a pencil on the ground only to announce to the class the color of her underwear when he came up for air.
When she was that age herself, her mother would tell her "You’re too sensitive." because she complained that the boys called her "Skinny Minny" or "Giraffe Girl". She wanted motherly support. She wanted to know how to cope with cruelt jokes, but her mother lacked empathy. She was imperious and cowed others. She never understood how Mindy could be a victim.
When she left Wiley at the 823 Santa Fe earlier that day she drove to the local Burger King drive-in. She reached for her wallet to purchase the three lunch combos only to find it was missing. She managed to scrape enough change to purchase the meals from her glove compartment stash. The clerk rolled her eyes in annoyance making Mindy feel like a first year teacher all over again. Yes, teaching was not for the self-conscious.
When she returned with the lunches Wiley One and Wiley Two were not there. She looked around and yoo-hooed, but there was no answer. In fact, even his sleeping bag and few personal items were gone. "I must have scared him," she thought. She ate her burger as she walked around the property looking for her wallet. Then she looked inside again, but she didn’t find it. That is when the paranoia set in. Could he have taken it? She tried to remember if she left her purse unguarded during the short conversation. She did place her purse on the floor when she was inspecting and making notes on her clipboard. Did she remember the dog sniffing around it? Did it fall out when she grabbed it to get her can of mace? All she knew for sure was that it was missing and she would need to contact the credit union and the credit company pronto.
"Annie, can you look up the 800 number for Capital One? I have to call them and report my card is missing. I lost my wallet when I was inspecting the building." She decided to omit the part where she met the vagrant and offered to buy him lunch. She was feeling too foolish to admit how wrong she was again with her trusting nature.
Just then Chester poked his head into her cubicle. Chester Slade was a fellow worker. He came with a past and a strong sense of street smarts but Mindy liked him. He had an air of confidence and ambition. She admired that too. He would never offer a bum a burger either, not that he was unfeeling; he just knew not to mix business with burgers.
"Whassup!" he said with a crooked smile. He made it sound like an inside joke between them. Somehow it wasn’t the same with Annie.
"I lost my wallet at the inspection site," she explained. "I also found evidence that someone was crashing there. On top of that, Sarajane Kowalski, the complainant, was a no show."
"I know why," Chester said, "She’s in Denver General with a vicious dog bite." She called and said some vagrant and his dog were coming out the back door when she went to meet you. He ran off at quite a clip. As you can guess Sarajane has a lot to say about it. She is even talking lawsuit. Lucky for you that you didn’t meet up with the guy when you were there."
Mindy took the news with her mouth agape. It reinforced her sense of poor judgment. She gathered her stuff and left work early. As she rode home she looked around at every street corner for Wiley P. again. Sympathy and compassion were no longer her feelings; wariness and suspicion had replaced them.
That night she made a list of all the items she needed to replace, including her driver’s license. Since gas prices rose to $4.00 a gallon she wasn’t driving much, but she still needed to have an ID. The phone rang. She answered distractedly because she was thinking about taking a half-day off to get control of the chaos that comes with the threat of identity theft.
"Hello, Mindy Halstead. Sorry I couldn’t wait for the tasty burger. Wiley Two and I appreciated your offer, but we needed to get out of Dodge." The voice was male, but coy and mildly dangerous.
Mindy was confused. Then it hit her. Wiley P. Downing was calling her. How did he get her phone number? Then it hit her like a bucket of cold water. He had her wallet.
Thinking on the spot was not her strong point, but she knew she couldn’t let him get the upper hand. She shook her hand to dissipate her growing anxiety.
"Well, I didn’t expect to hear from you, Wiley. Do you, by chance, have something that belongs to me?"
" I can be coy too," she thought.
"Well , as a matter of fact. I found your wallet. I thought you would come back for it, but since you didn’t , I thought I would just catch up with you later. Can I bring it up to you? I’m in the neighborhood. By the way, I needed to borrow fifty cents to make this call. I hope you don’t mind."
Now she panicked. Not only did he have her phone number, he had her address too. No one knew she had met him. If she let him in her apartment and he was a rapist or murderer, nothing would tie him to the crime.
"I am not comfortable with that," she said. "Why don’t we meet at the house tomorrow morning? Since you have my wallet, you can buy a McDonald’s breakfast each of us. What do you say to that?"
"Well, darlin’, one problem with that. Good ole Wiley Two took a chunk out of a snoopy gal when we were there. I don’t think we can meet you there. The city don’t take too kindly to dogs doin’ their protection thing. I know, we can meet at that bookstore. You know …the one across from Crown Liquors There’s a bus bench. We’ll hang out there until you come by. We’re in no hurry tomorrow…nothing on our schedule."
Mindy weighed her options and decided to chance it. After all, this might be better because it was a public area. She couldn’t see how he could sucker her into something else.
"Okay, I’ll meet you there around 7:00 am. I have a pretty busy schedule tomorrow. I am employed, you know."
She meant that to be a joke , but the long silence on the other end told her it had backfired. Had Wiley heard sarcasm? Yes. Was he thinking revenge? Probably. Was she regretting her impulse again.? Definitely.
"All right, I’ll see you there," he finally said in a voice devoid of any friendly banter.
Mindy double checked the locks. Pulled down the blinds, and went to bed with her cell phone next to her. It was al little blue beacon reflecting her fear and uneasiness. She wondered if she would get any sleep.
"You watch too much TV," Mindy snapped, referring to Annie’s penchant for adopting the most recent vernacular. In this case it was that stupid beer commercial the won super Bowl fame. It you worked in city codes, you had to enter the Super Bowl pool by betting on a game spread and then generally talking about the event as if was the Second Coming. Mindy lacked the skill and interest for the social bonding required of football fanatics.
It was obvious that Mindy was out of sorts when she returned to the office. She was feeling foolish and scammed by Wiley P. downing. She hadn’t felt that way when she offered to get burgers after their meeting at 823. Now her naiveté brought up old wounds. It was exactly how she felt her first and only year of teaching at Cole Middle School. In reminded her of the cunning and sometimes ruthless ways the kids would flatter and the set her up as the butt of a new prank. She tried to laugh off the tricks like the time
Albie pretended to drop a pencil on the ground only to announce to the class the color of her underwear when he came up for air.
When she was that age herself, her mother would tell her "You’re too sensitive." because she complained that the boys called her "Skinny Minny" or "Giraffe Girl". She wanted motherly support. She wanted to know how to cope with cruelt jokes, but her mother lacked empathy. She was imperious and cowed others. She never understood how Mindy could be a victim.
When she left Wiley at the 823 Santa Fe earlier that day she drove to the local Burger King drive-in. She reached for her wallet to purchase the three lunch combos only to find it was missing. She managed to scrape enough change to purchase the meals from her glove compartment stash. The clerk rolled her eyes in annoyance making Mindy feel like a first year teacher all over again. Yes, teaching was not for the self-conscious.
When she returned with the lunches Wiley One and Wiley Two were not there. She looked around and yoo-hooed, but there was no answer. In fact, even his sleeping bag and few personal items were gone. "I must have scared him," she thought. She ate her burger as she walked around the property looking for her wallet. Then she looked inside again, but she didn’t find it. That is when the paranoia set in. Could he have taken it? She tried to remember if she left her purse unguarded during the short conversation. She did place her purse on the floor when she was inspecting and making notes on her clipboard. Did she remember the dog sniffing around it? Did it fall out when she grabbed it to get her can of mace? All she knew for sure was that it was missing and she would need to contact the credit union and the credit company pronto.
"Annie, can you look up the 800 number for Capital One? I have to call them and report my card is missing. I lost my wallet when I was inspecting the building." She decided to omit the part where she met the vagrant and offered to buy him lunch. She was feeling too foolish to admit how wrong she was again with her trusting nature.
Just then Chester poked his head into her cubicle. Chester Slade was a fellow worker. He came with a past and a strong sense of street smarts but Mindy liked him. He had an air of confidence and ambition. She admired that too. He would never offer a bum a burger either, not that he was unfeeling; he just knew not to mix business with burgers.
"Whassup!" he said with a crooked smile. He made it sound like an inside joke between them. Somehow it wasn’t the same with Annie.
"I lost my wallet at the inspection site," she explained. "I also found evidence that someone was crashing there. On top of that, Sarajane Kowalski, the complainant, was a no show."
"I know why," Chester said, "She’s in Denver General with a vicious dog bite." She called and said some vagrant and his dog were coming out the back door when she went to meet you. He ran off at quite a clip. As you can guess Sarajane has a lot to say about it. She is even talking lawsuit. Lucky for you that you didn’t meet up with the guy when you were there."
Mindy took the news with her mouth agape. It reinforced her sense of poor judgment. She gathered her stuff and left work early. As she rode home she looked around at every street corner for Wiley P. again. Sympathy and compassion were no longer her feelings; wariness and suspicion had replaced them.
That night she made a list of all the items she needed to replace, including her driver’s license. Since gas prices rose to $4.00 a gallon she wasn’t driving much, but she still needed to have an ID. The phone rang. She answered distractedly because she was thinking about taking a half-day off to get control of the chaos that comes with the threat of identity theft.
"Hello, Mindy Halstead. Sorry I couldn’t wait for the tasty burger. Wiley Two and I appreciated your offer, but we needed to get out of Dodge." The voice was male, but coy and mildly dangerous.
Mindy was confused. Then it hit her. Wiley P. Downing was calling her. How did he get her phone number? Then it hit her like a bucket of cold water. He had her wallet.
Thinking on the spot was not her strong point, but she knew she couldn’t let him get the upper hand. She shook her hand to dissipate her growing anxiety.
"Well, I didn’t expect to hear from you, Wiley. Do you, by chance, have something that belongs to me?"
" I can be coy too," she thought.
"Well , as a matter of fact. I found your wallet. I thought you would come back for it, but since you didn’t , I thought I would just catch up with you later. Can I bring it up to you? I’m in the neighborhood. By the way, I needed to borrow fifty cents to make this call. I hope you don’t mind."
Now she panicked. Not only did he have her phone number, he had her address too. No one knew she had met him. If she let him in her apartment and he was a rapist or murderer, nothing would tie him to the crime.
"I am not comfortable with that," she said. "Why don’t we meet at the house tomorrow morning? Since you have my wallet, you can buy a McDonald’s breakfast each of us. What do you say to that?"
"Well, darlin’, one problem with that. Good ole Wiley Two took a chunk out of a snoopy gal when we were there. I don’t think we can meet you there. The city don’t take too kindly to dogs doin’ their protection thing. I know, we can meet at that bookstore. You know …the one across from Crown Liquors There’s a bus bench. We’ll hang out there until you come by. We’re in no hurry tomorrow…nothing on our schedule."
Mindy weighed her options and decided to chance it. After all, this might be better because it was a public area. She couldn’t see how he could sucker her into something else.
"Okay, I’ll meet you there around 7:00 am. I have a pretty busy schedule tomorrow. I am employed, you know."
She meant that to be a joke , but the long silence on the other end told her it had backfired. Had Wiley heard sarcasm? Yes. Was he thinking revenge? Probably. Was she regretting her impulse again.? Definitely.
"All right, I’ll see you there," he finally said in a voice devoid of any friendly banter.
Mindy double checked the locks. Pulled down the blinds, and went to bed with her cell phone next to her. It was al little blue beacon reflecting her fear and uneasiness. She wondered if she would get any sleep.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Don't Chew Your Fingernails
The Writing Circle met last Friday and will meet again this Friday. (Oh, boy...Can I keep up?)
In last Friday's meeting, the group made some notes about place and character, took Mindy inside the building, left her wandering outside on the sidewalk, sent her back to the office, had her find a dead body, a ghost, a homeless person who chewed his fingernails and some German books. Rita Simas who helped Mindy find the homeless person won the lottery for the next two pages. I'm pasting her pages below. Her pages are followed by the group's character and place notes. If you'd like to join us this Friday(6/30), call Miss Prothero's Books to let us know you're coming. To help the story continue, write as little or as much as you please. You must, however, have something happen at the burger joint or on the way to the burger joint. Also, when Mindy returns to the house, Wiley is gone.
In last Friday's meeting, the group made some notes about place and character, took Mindy inside the building, left her wandering outside on the sidewalk, sent her back to the office, had her find a dead body, a ghost, a homeless person who chewed his fingernails and some German books. Rita Simas who helped Mindy find the homeless person won the lottery for the next two pages. I'm pasting her pages below. Her pages are followed by the group's character and place notes. If you'd like to join us this Friday(6/30), call Miss Prothero's Books to let us know you're coming. To help the story continue, write as little or as much as you please. You must, however, have something happen at the burger joint or on the way to the burger joint. Also, when Mindy returns to the house, Wiley is gone.
Rita's Installment
Mindy stared at the door and looked at the key in her hand. Now, how much good would the key do with no doorknob. There was a key hole in the original brass plate, but it looked like the type of key hole that needed a skeleton key, most likely an antique skeleton key; not a Schlage key like the one she presently held in her hand. Not one to give up so easy, Mindy pushed on the door, but it would not give. She pushed with her whole shoulder against the heavy, solid door, but it still did not move. She did not want to kick on the brass kickplate even though it was old and damaged, it was still showed evidence of being an antique and worthy of restoration. She stepped back and gave the portico an all encompassing look to see if there was another possible way to gain access. She then noticed the small, but classically framed front window. She walked over to it and peered down and to the left and looked back to the front door. That’s when she saw the rather decrepit, but solid looking couch wedged in front of the door.
Mindy stood back up, and thought about the situation. It appears that there may indeed be a transient camping out inside. What to do, what to do? Should she turn tail, go back to the office and admit defeat or continue the inspection of the rest of the house and see if there is another way to enter the house. Nothing ventured, nothing gained! Mindy walked back across the portico and walked into the front yard and around the side of the building taking more pictures as she went. On the south side of the house she noticed more evidence of deterioration, but she also noticed a number of high quality, well constructed features that only occur in homes of this age. Mindy figured the home was built in the early 1900’s during the early boom period in Denver’s history. She made a mental note to research the home’s original construction date.
Mindy arrived at the back door, and there she saw that the door was slightly ajar. Obviously, the transient had left the building and left a means to re-enter. Mindy pushed open the door and entered the house. She immediately stopped dead in her tracks. She was in the original kitchen; it was dirty and smelly, but it was just beautiful at the same time. The cabinets were vintage Victorian with layers and layers of intricate molding that seemed to jump out at you even with the obvious dirt and decay. Her mouth started to feel very, very dry; and she realized that during this visual inspection her mouth was wide open in stunned disbelief.
Mindy decided to inspect the rest of the house. She walked into hallway and towards the front of the house. She passed a small, but comfortable looking dining alcove with handsome, built-in cabinets. First impressions from the curb would led you to think that the only hope was to tear the house down and re-build, but with each room that Mindy traversed she felt that the house had such wonderful bones that a thorough cleaning and repair of the broken elements would turn this ugly duckling into a beautiful swan. Why the whole house is an remembrance of years past with all of the intricate architecture that was common in the early 1900’s. What she wouldn’t give to have the funds to buy this house and make it her own. She would absolutely love cleaning, sanding, staining, and repairing, and in general applying a year or two (maybe three) of sweat equity to make this home an historic artifact of early American architecture in the old west.
She got to the front living room and observed the missing doorknob on the floor next to the decrepit, but solid looking couch. Mindy thought to herself, ‘Now, if I put that doorknob back on, I bet it will be functional, and I can use the key that the property owner provided. I can also, lock up the door in the back. This house, even with its outward homely demeanor, is a diamond in the rough.”
So, Mindy lifted and moved the couch away from the front door, and then she pulled out her handy-dandy, ten-in-one tool, and proceeded to re-install the doorknob. Just as she was finishing up testing the newly installed doorknob, she heard and felt movement in the back of the house by the kitchen. Oh shit, she thought, the transient must be back. Mindy opened her purse and looked for her mace canister. As she pulled her mace canister out, in walked a dirty, ill-kempt and decidedly mal-nourished middle-aged man and his equally lean dog. The dog reacted first and a small but decided fierce guttural growl began. The transient noticed the canister and quickly quieted his dog, and began walking backwards with his hand on the dog’s collar. Mindy was torn. The best solution was to stay quiet and let the transient leave the building and find new digs; however, he looked safe enough and he appeared to have his dog well in control. She was such softy at heart, and she felt such empathy for their plight. Besides, she had never met an animal that she didn’t like. Well, maybe one or two. But this dog melted her heart; it looked so sweet, and it really looked like it could use a meal. Matter of fact, both of them looked like they hadn’t eaten in days, and a meal would be greatly appreciated.
Mindy made a decision. She was not responsible for the house; she was only responsible for inspecting it and documenting its condition in terms of city housing regulations. She said, “Hello, my name is Mindy, and I am here to inspect this house for Denver Code Enforcement regulation purposes. Who are you?” The transient looked at Mindy and you could see indecision and confusion flash across his face. He stopped his retreat, and finally said, “Name’s Wiley P. Downing”. Mindy walked over and shook his hand, and extended her hand, palm up, to the dog, “And who is your friend?” Wiley smiled and simply said, “His names Wiley, too. It keeps it simple and easy to remember.” Mindy started laughing and gave Wiley II as pat on the head. Mindy realized that she had not eaten lunch yet, so she asked, “I need to grab some lunch, would both of you like a couple of burgers and maybe a vanilla shake?” “For sure, we would” the human Wiley responded. “You guys stay here, and I will be back before you know it with the grub”, Mindy replied. Just as Mindy was leaving, she cast another look at the two Wiley’s and she noticed that Wiley I had nubs for fingernails, and it brought back a flashback to 20 years ago. Why did she just think of Ralph, Alexis’s long ago, old live-in boyfriend? She quickly dismissed the thought and gathered up her purse and began to leave. She told Wiley I, “I put the doorknob back on and I have a key, so I will let myself back in when I have the burgers and shakes. Okay?”
Mindy stood back up, and thought about the situation. It appears that there may indeed be a transient camping out inside. What to do, what to do? Should she turn tail, go back to the office and admit defeat or continue the inspection of the rest of the house and see if there is another way to enter the house. Nothing ventured, nothing gained! Mindy walked back across the portico and walked into the front yard and around the side of the building taking more pictures as she went. On the south side of the house she noticed more evidence of deterioration, but she also noticed a number of high quality, well constructed features that only occur in homes of this age. Mindy figured the home was built in the early 1900’s during the early boom period in Denver’s history. She made a mental note to research the home’s original construction date.
Mindy arrived at the back door, and there she saw that the door was slightly ajar. Obviously, the transient had left the building and left a means to re-enter. Mindy pushed open the door and entered the house. She immediately stopped dead in her tracks. She was in the original kitchen; it was dirty and smelly, but it was just beautiful at the same time. The cabinets were vintage Victorian with layers and layers of intricate molding that seemed to jump out at you even with the obvious dirt and decay. Her mouth started to feel very, very dry; and she realized that during this visual inspection her mouth was wide open in stunned disbelief.
Mindy decided to inspect the rest of the house. She walked into hallway and towards the front of the house. She passed a small, but comfortable looking dining alcove with handsome, built-in cabinets. First impressions from the curb would led you to think that the only hope was to tear the house down and re-build, but with each room that Mindy traversed she felt that the house had such wonderful bones that a thorough cleaning and repair of the broken elements would turn this ugly duckling into a beautiful swan. Why the whole house is an remembrance of years past with all of the intricate architecture that was common in the early 1900’s. What she wouldn’t give to have the funds to buy this house and make it her own. She would absolutely love cleaning, sanding, staining, and repairing, and in general applying a year or two (maybe three) of sweat equity to make this home an historic artifact of early American architecture in the old west.
She got to the front living room and observed the missing doorknob on the floor next to the decrepit, but solid looking couch. Mindy thought to herself, ‘Now, if I put that doorknob back on, I bet it will be functional, and I can use the key that the property owner provided. I can also, lock up the door in the back. This house, even with its outward homely demeanor, is a diamond in the rough.”
So, Mindy lifted and moved the couch away from the front door, and then she pulled out her handy-dandy, ten-in-one tool, and proceeded to re-install the doorknob. Just as she was finishing up testing the newly installed doorknob, she heard and felt movement in the back of the house by the kitchen. Oh shit, she thought, the transient must be back. Mindy opened her purse and looked for her mace canister. As she pulled her mace canister out, in walked a dirty, ill-kempt and decidedly mal-nourished middle-aged man and his equally lean dog. The dog reacted first and a small but decided fierce guttural growl began. The transient noticed the canister and quickly quieted his dog, and began walking backwards with his hand on the dog’s collar. Mindy was torn. The best solution was to stay quiet and let the transient leave the building and find new digs; however, he looked safe enough and he appeared to have his dog well in control. She was such softy at heart, and she felt such empathy for their plight. Besides, she had never met an animal that she didn’t like. Well, maybe one or two. But this dog melted her heart; it looked so sweet, and it really looked like it could use a meal. Matter of fact, both of them looked like they hadn’t eaten in days, and a meal would be greatly appreciated.
Mindy made a decision. She was not responsible for the house; she was only responsible for inspecting it and documenting its condition in terms of city housing regulations. She said, “Hello, my name is Mindy, and I am here to inspect this house for Denver Code Enforcement regulation purposes. Who are you?” The transient looked at Mindy and you could see indecision and confusion flash across his face. He stopped his retreat, and finally said, “Name’s Wiley P. Downing”. Mindy walked over and shook his hand, and extended her hand, palm up, to the dog, “And who is your friend?” Wiley smiled and simply said, “His names Wiley, too. It keeps it simple and easy to remember.” Mindy started laughing and gave Wiley II as pat on the head. Mindy realized that she had not eaten lunch yet, so she asked, “I need to grab some lunch, would both of you like a couple of burgers and maybe a vanilla shake?” “For sure, we would” the human Wiley responded. “You guys stay here, and I will be back before you know it with the grub”, Mindy replied. Just as Mindy was leaving, she cast another look at the two Wiley’s and she noticed that Wiley I had nubs for fingernails, and it brought back a flashback to 20 years ago. Why did she just think of Ralph, Alexis’s long ago, old live-in boyfriend? She quickly dismissed the thought and gathered up her purse and began to leave. She told Wiley I, “I put the doorknob back on and I have a key, so I will let myself back in when I have the burgers and shakes. Okay?”
Character and Place Notes
Mindy Hulsted
• Is 39-years old
• Has short, mousey brown hair
• Is an underachiever
• Wears glasses and has hazel eyes
• She was born November 2
• She is in a rut.
• Likes to ride her bike furiously around and around Washington Park.
• Her mother is a social-climber and disappointed by most everything – including herself and her children.
• The father is absent and has been absent for many years. He is a “quitter” who bailed out on law school, student loans, and joined “Mother Jones”.
• She has an unnamed brother who is a carpenter
• She is 5’8” and size 8.
• She took some time to finish her degree (6 years). Unlike her father, she is not a quitter.
• She did witness an assault while working in a middle school and decided teaching wasn’t for her. Okay, she has quit a few things.
• She has an unnamed cat.
• She is a code enforcement officer.
Mindy works with
• Sam, her boss
• Annie, a receptionist
• Chester Slade, a co-worker with a great work ethic. He has lived on the edge and had some brushes with the law.
The Neighborhood where the action takes place
• Much like the current Santa Fe District
• There are architects and gentrifiers in the neighborhood.
• The Vallenzuelas are an influential family in the area.
• There are signs of entrenched poverty – a convenience store, a liquor store, a seedy luncheonette.
• There are at least two church buildings in the area. One has been turned into residential property. The other is St. Elizabeth’s.
The Building
• A two story Victorian without a porch
• The front yard is dusty, weedy, and has a preponderance of wind-driven trash.
• The building was once owned by a Vallenzuela
• Is 39-years old
• Has short, mousey brown hair
• Is an underachiever
• Wears glasses and has hazel eyes
• She was born November 2
• She is in a rut.
• Likes to ride her bike furiously around and around Washington Park.
• Her mother is a social-climber and disappointed by most everything – including herself and her children.
• The father is absent and has been absent for many years. He is a “quitter” who bailed out on law school, student loans, and joined “Mother Jones”.
• She has an unnamed brother who is a carpenter
• She is 5’8” and size 8.
• She took some time to finish her degree (6 years). Unlike her father, she is not a quitter.
• She did witness an assault while working in a middle school and decided teaching wasn’t for her. Okay, she has quit a few things.
• She has an unnamed cat.
• She is a code enforcement officer.
Mindy works with
• Sam, her boss
• Annie, a receptionist
• Chester Slade, a co-worker with a great work ethic. He has lived on the edge and had some brushes with the law.
The Neighborhood where the action takes place
• Much like the current Santa Fe District
• There are architects and gentrifiers in the neighborhood.
• The Vallenzuelas are an influential family in the area.
• There are signs of entrenched poverty – a convenience store, a liquor store, a seedy luncheonette.
• There are at least two church buildings in the area. One has been turned into residential property. The other is St. Elizabeth’s.
The Building
• A two story Victorian without a porch
• The front yard is dusty, weedy, and has a preponderance of wind-driven trash.
• The building was once owned by a Vallenzuela
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Throwing Stones at Cracked Houses
I know. I know. I promised the first two pages of Miss Prothero's Writing Circle story a long, long time ago. I've had the stomach flu. Patrick's home computer has had the PC flu. I'm better. It's better. The first two pages are pasted below. Try not to edit. Just add. 2 more pages is all you need. Get Mindy or Marta or Matilda or Matthew inside the house. Have her or him find a person and an artifact. Remember, the next Writing Circle meeting is May 23 at 6:30. We're having a potluck dinner. Call Miss Prothero's Books at 303-572-2260 if you want to know what to bring or just surprise us or just bring yourself and your two pages.
Mindy loved these cracked houses. Her Auntie lived in a big one on the parkway. Her Mother always drew it out to say T-H-E-E-E-E parkway to be sure everyone knew that her Auntie had some wealth. And she remembered her Mother would smile a laugh when she called them cracked houses. When she was three or so she had become aware of the stucco in the eaves of these houses and so she called them cracked. Only as a teenager did she see that they had cracked from settling and weathering in the extremes of the arid Front Range weather. Mindy’s memory was that her Mother always corrected her and said “These are Tudors dear”, and for years Mindy looked for two doors and usually only found the front door.
Standing here today Mindy still loved the cracks and now the doors were in fact her primary interest and love in these cracked houses. Doors on Tudor style houses have strong features. The rounded curved tops, panels, vertical battens, iron forged hardware and other unique details characterize these doors. Mindy’s friend Alexis had once rented a Tudor style house that had an off center window in the front door that was 7 inches by 10 inches. Mindy had measured out of curiosity. The window was hinged at the side and opened to an ornate hand forged grille that was mounted on the exterior of the door. The glass in the window was green bottle glass and each of the six panels was a slightly different shade of faded green.
And now that Mindy recollected her friend from more than 20 years past, she winced at the memory that she really wasn't much of a friend of Alexis. She had a schoolgirl fixation and lust for Alexis’ live in boyfriend Ralph. Once Alexis threw him out for reasons long forgotten, she lost contact with Alexis. And now that she thought about Ralph she could not recall much about him except his chewed to the nub fingernails.
The wind and the dust stirred by the traffic returned her reality to this sidewalk on South Santa Fe Drive and the reason she was standing here at 2:37 on a Thursday afternoon in April. She was here to do an inspection of this building based on a complaint from neighbors in this gentrifying part of town.
The architecture firm three doors away, Mabry and Associates, had registered two official complaints on the unsafe condition of the fence. To use your name when you could remain anonymous meant you were a very serious complainant and that you had nothing to fear and also it usually meant that you knew a member of the City Council. Ms. Allison Mabry had a bit of a Kansas City slur in her diction and when Mindy had returned her phone call, just to make small talk she had asked her if she was from the Midwest, and this had led to a too long drawn out story from Ms. Mabry of her life and how she had struggled for years, etc. to finally open her own firm and then to watch this grand building go to pieces in just a “short time”. Mindy did not like Ms. Mabry’s dramatics and knew just standing on the sidewalk that it had taken at least 50 years of neglect for this building to deteriorate to this point. Not so short a time!
The manager of the just occupied townhouse redevelopment on the next block was also on the list of complainants and her complaint was always expected from these gentrifiers. “I can’t rent these to my kind of tenants if that place is allowed to present itself as a place for transients” she had said in her message. She had left her name as Sarajane (all one word she had barked) Golowski. Mindy wondered why she thought her transients as high cost renters deserved more than the transients she perceived to inhabit this neglected building. Mindy knew, too, that Sarajane Golowski had most likely been required to make the call and complaint official as part of her management contract with the developer. And Mindy was aware that the developer of those new apartments was tied in with Arturro Valenzuella, the Council person from this district for the past 5 years. Arturro’s family had been active politically in this neighborhood since they arrived from Central America at the turn of the century. There is the Manuel Valenzuella plaza at St. Thomas Catholic Church, the Angela Valenzuella memorial garden in the Dante Valenzuella Park, the Bartolo Valenzuella Alley and other public spaces that honor Valenzuella family members. The alley is named for Bartolo Valenzuella who ran a garage on the alley for many years starting in the 1920’s and became the first elected Hispanic State Representative, State Senator and finally Lieutenant Governor before dying tragically in a plane crash while testing an airplane engine that he had designed in his garage. The irony is that that airplane engine patent in 1954 was the beginning of the succeeding financial empire of the Valenzuellas. The patent was sold to Boeing in 1959 and since then the Valenzuellas have branched out, even internationally.
Yesterday two more complaints had come in with concern for the safety of pedestrians near this building. One was a nasty quick call with no name. There was a goofy bass tone to the voice, but the words were clear. “Worthless, puissant code enforcement you need to get rid of that building at 823 Santa Fe. It stinks like hell”. It sounded like it was from a cellphone and maybe it was actually made as this person was walking by. Mindy found it odd that the caller had the Code Enforcement phone number handy. The other complaint was actually a letter. It was an odd letter, brief, but sort of menacing, and it wasn’t signed. The author knew enough to address it to Mr. Samuel Barnes, Manager of Code Enforcement, City and County of Denver, and Mindy’s boss. Sam had passed these two new complaints on to Mindy and she rearranged her calendar so she could do a site visit today rather than wait until next Monday when she had scheduled a time to check it out with Ms. Mabry and with one word Sarajane, if Ms. One word could actually leave her post at the rental office to get a personal tour of 823 Santa Fe from the caretaker of the property, a Mr. Ellis Jansen who was this week vacationing in CanCun, Mexico, for his health he said.
As Mindy stood on the sidewalk she pulled her digital camera from her bag and began to take photos of the building. Mostly she was focused on the main door. A grand lintel she noted and then admired the Corinthian columns that flanked both sides of the covered portico. The transom over the front door looked to be of stained glass and maybe if cleaned the numbers 823 would be visible from the street. The door knob was missing, but the original brass plate was intact as was the brass kick plate at the bottom of the door.
Mindy loved these cracked houses. Her Auntie lived in a big one on the parkway. Her Mother always drew it out to say T-H-E-E-E-E parkway to be sure everyone knew that her Auntie had some wealth. And she remembered her Mother would smile a laugh when she called them cracked houses. When she was three or so she had become aware of the stucco in the eaves of these houses and so she called them cracked. Only as a teenager did she see that they had cracked from settling and weathering in the extremes of the arid Front Range weather. Mindy’s memory was that her Mother always corrected her and said “These are Tudors dear”, and for years Mindy looked for two doors and usually only found the front door.
Standing here today Mindy still loved the cracks and now the doors were in fact her primary interest and love in these cracked houses. Doors on Tudor style houses have strong features. The rounded curved tops, panels, vertical battens, iron forged hardware and other unique details characterize these doors. Mindy’s friend Alexis had once rented a Tudor style house that had an off center window in the front door that was 7 inches by 10 inches. Mindy had measured out of curiosity. The window was hinged at the side and opened to an ornate hand forged grille that was mounted on the exterior of the door. The glass in the window was green bottle glass and each of the six panels was a slightly different shade of faded green.
And now that Mindy recollected her friend from more than 20 years past, she winced at the memory that she really wasn't much of a friend of Alexis. She had a schoolgirl fixation and lust for Alexis’ live in boyfriend Ralph. Once Alexis threw him out for reasons long forgotten, she lost contact with Alexis. And now that she thought about Ralph she could not recall much about him except his chewed to the nub fingernails.
The wind and the dust stirred by the traffic returned her reality to this sidewalk on South Santa Fe Drive and the reason she was standing here at 2:37 on a Thursday afternoon in April. She was here to do an inspection of this building based on a complaint from neighbors in this gentrifying part of town.
The architecture firm three doors away, Mabry and Associates, had registered two official complaints on the unsafe condition of the fence. To use your name when you could remain anonymous meant you were a very serious complainant and that you had nothing to fear and also it usually meant that you knew a member of the City Council. Ms. Allison Mabry had a bit of a Kansas City slur in her diction and when Mindy had returned her phone call, just to make small talk she had asked her if she was from the Midwest, and this had led to a too long drawn out story from Ms. Mabry of her life and how she had struggled for years, etc. to finally open her own firm and then to watch this grand building go to pieces in just a “short time”. Mindy did not like Ms. Mabry’s dramatics and knew just standing on the sidewalk that it had taken at least 50 years of neglect for this building to deteriorate to this point. Not so short a time!
The manager of the just occupied townhouse redevelopment on the next block was also on the list of complainants and her complaint was always expected from these gentrifiers. “I can’t rent these to my kind of tenants if that place is allowed to present itself as a place for transients” she had said in her message. She had left her name as Sarajane (all one word she had barked) Golowski. Mindy wondered why she thought her transients as high cost renters deserved more than the transients she perceived to inhabit this neglected building. Mindy knew, too, that Sarajane Golowski had most likely been required to make the call and complaint official as part of her management contract with the developer. And Mindy was aware that the developer of those new apartments was tied in with Arturro Valenzuella, the Council person from this district for the past 5 years. Arturro’s family had been active politically in this neighborhood since they arrived from Central America at the turn of the century. There is the Manuel Valenzuella plaza at St. Thomas Catholic Church, the Angela Valenzuella memorial garden in the Dante Valenzuella Park, the Bartolo Valenzuella Alley and other public spaces that honor Valenzuella family members. The alley is named for Bartolo Valenzuella who ran a garage on the alley for many years starting in the 1920’s and became the first elected Hispanic State Representative, State Senator and finally Lieutenant Governor before dying tragically in a plane crash while testing an airplane engine that he had designed in his garage. The irony is that that airplane engine patent in 1954 was the beginning of the succeeding financial empire of the Valenzuellas. The patent was sold to Boeing in 1959 and since then the Valenzuellas have branched out, even internationally.
Yesterday two more complaints had come in with concern for the safety of pedestrians near this building. One was a nasty quick call with no name. There was a goofy bass tone to the voice, but the words were clear. “Worthless, puissant code enforcement you need to get rid of that building at 823 Santa Fe. It stinks like hell”. It sounded like it was from a cellphone and maybe it was actually made as this person was walking by. Mindy found it odd that the caller had the Code Enforcement phone number handy. The other complaint was actually a letter. It was an odd letter, brief, but sort of menacing, and it wasn’t signed. The author knew enough to address it to Mr. Samuel Barnes, Manager of Code Enforcement, City and County of Denver, and Mindy’s boss. Sam had passed these two new complaints on to Mindy and she rearranged her calendar so she could do a site visit today rather than wait until next Monday when she had scheduled a time to check it out with Ms. Mabry and with one word Sarajane, if Ms. One word could actually leave her post at the rental office to get a personal tour of 823 Santa Fe from the caretaker of the property, a Mr. Ellis Jansen who was this week vacationing in CanCun, Mexico, for his health he said.
As Mindy stood on the sidewalk she pulled her digital camera from her bag and began to take photos of the building. Mostly she was focused on the main door. A grand lintel she noted and then admired the Corinthian columns that flanked both sides of the covered portico. The transom over the front door looked to be of stained glass and maybe if cleaned the numbers 823 would be visible from the street. The door knob was missing, but the original brass plate was intact as was the brass kick plate at the bottom of the door.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
It starts with a pebble in a pond...
It starts with a small circle that widens and ripples to the edges of the shore. The small circle becomes large. (Unless, of course, you have a very small pond or a quickly evaporating puddle. In which case the circle remains small.)
The writing circle met at Miss Prothero's Books last Saturday. There were only three of us, but we were enthusiastic. We're hoping the enthusiasm radiates out. Patrick Caldwell's two pages of the door-obsessed city planner won the lottery. We'll build our story from there. I'll post the two pages as soon as I get the official copy from Patrick. At this point, no editing will be allowed. (Okay, if you can't help yourself, we might let you edit a little bit.)
Our next circle meeting is May 23 at 6:30 p.m. We're having potluck. Call the store at 303-572-2260 if you want to come and need to know what to bring.
The writing circle met at Miss Prothero's Books last Saturday. There were only three of us, but we were enthusiastic. We're hoping the enthusiasm radiates out. Patrick Caldwell's two pages of the door-obsessed city planner won the lottery. We'll build our story from there. I'll post the two pages as soon as I get the official copy from Patrick. At this point, no editing will be allowed. (Okay, if you can't help yourself, we might let you edit a little bit.)
Our next circle meeting is May 23 at 6:30 p.m. We're having potluck. Call the store at 303-572-2260 if you want to come and need to know what to bring.
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