Day Eighteen: Hone Your Point of View
The neighbourhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, have come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.
Today’s prompt: write this story in first person, told by the twelve-year-old sitting on the stoop across the street. Today’s twist: For those of you who want an extra challenge, think about more than simply writing in first-person point of view — build this twelve-year-old as a character. Reveal at least one personality quirk, for example, either through spoken dialogue or inner monologue.
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Boy! that’s a long one!
I dropped my bike in the yard by the front steps and let out a long whoopee! It were Friday and I was goin’ fishin’ with my pa in the mornin’. We was gonna take the tent and pitch it down by the old fort at the south bend of the river. Gonna have fish fer lunch and dinner, and meybe breakfast if we caught enough trout.
I pulled the chewin’ gum wrapper outta my pants pocket and folded it the way pa showed me, this way and that to make a right angle. Then I got the gum wrapper rope from the pony express pouch on my handle bars and fit it through the end. Boy! That’s a long one! I whistled. Why it musta been all of four feet or more.
“I’m home, ma!” I spit my old gum inter the bushes and ran up the front steps screen door slammin’ behind me, through the parlor to the kitchen, draggin’ that rope all the way. I could smell them cookies ma was makin’ clear out in the yard. It wadn’t bakin’ day, though. And it weren’t cookies. It were a pound cake, she said. I wondered if she knew that ’cause she weighed it on the bathroom scales. “What’s it fer?”
“It’s for Mrs. Pauley.” Ma wiped her hands on her flowered apron and tucked her short brown hair behind her ears. She stetched a sticky sheet of bakin’ wrap over the cake so it wouldn’t get mussed up. “Rev. Davis is coming by to see her this afternoon and I thought it might be nice if she had something to offer him with her lemonade. I know she’s not doing much baking these days.”
Mrs. Pauley was the old lady what lived across the street from us. Her and her mister had lived there from way afore I were born. But her mister, he had up and died from what they call a new-mon-ya some three months ago. They’s always been nice to me. Mr. Pauley paid me a quarter fer mowin’ their lawn and helpin’ weed the vegetable garden. I’d even helped pa paint their house. All the houses on our street needed paintin’, and all the lawns needed cuttin’. But pa and I had our hands full with ours and theirs. And Mrs. Pauley, why she made the best dern lemonade on Council St.
I hadn’t seen Mrs. Pauley much since her mister died. I kept mowin’ the lawn and pa would weed the garden while ma sat with her on the porch swing and talked. Mrs. Pauley cried a lot. But it was pa that was payin’ me now, not her. “What’s he comin’ to see her fer?”
“He’s coming to see if she needs some help from the church. She hasn’t had money to pay the rent since her husband died. Everyone’s worried about her and wondering what she’s going to do.”
Seemed I was gonna be here fer a bit so I got a nuther stick of gum outta my pocket and wadded it up in my mouth. I folded the foil and the wrapper like usual and fastened them to the end of my rope. “Cain’t she go live with nun of them boys she gots?” Ma looked just plain ornery when I ast her that. Them ole boys of Mrs. Pauley’s, why they weren’t much good fer nothun. I’d heerd ma say so in a real loud voice. No one had seen hide ner hair of ’em since their pa’s funeral.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you. We’re not sure why they haven’t come to help her. Rev. Davis is going to ask her if he can call them.”
“That’s sad.” I liked old Mrs. Pauley. I thought meybe it was them ole boys that was makin’ her cry. “But she’s got us, right, ma?” Smilin’ she ruffled my carrot orange hair and took my rope.
“Boy! That’s a long one,” she said holdin’ it up beside me. “Why it’s nearly as tall as you!”
“Pert near,” I said.
That’s when we heerd the commotion cross the street. Someone was bangin’ on Mrs. Pauley’s door and shoutin’ loud fer her to come out. Ma and me ran out to the stoop to see what the ruckus was all about. There was some old geezer (pa said it was ok to use that word, it weren’t a cuss word) in a tight blue suit jist poundin’ and poundin’ on that door. And then a police car pulled up in front of Mrs. Pauley’s house. The copper got outta the car and hurried up the sidewalk to the porch like he was all important. He handed that loud old man a piece of paper.
“I’ve got it now,” that old blue sucker yelled, wavin’ that piece of paper over his head. “You gotta git out of my house right now, you hear, old woman!”
Ma sucked her breath in hard and I chewed that wad of gum even harder.
“What they gonna do to Mrs. Pauley, ma?”
“They’re trying to make her leave her home.”
“But why? She belongs there. She’s lived there longer than anyone else on this street. That’s not fair. Why they wanna do that to that nice old lady, ma?”
She didn’t answer me, just went back inside and got on the telephone. I heerd her call pa at the bike shop, then she dialed another number and asked fer the preacher. THEN, perty as you please, she came back out the screen door and marched herself across that street apron and all and ran right up on the porch. ‘Tweren’t long before pa and the preacher showed up, and Mrs. Pauley finally opened the door and let ’em all in.
I guessed the show was over so I wandered back in the house. I hoped Mrs. Pauley wouldn’t have ter leave. I unwrapped another stick of gum and shoved it in my mouth with the other one. Two more wrappers fer my chain. Yep. Perty soon that sucker was gonna be as tall as me. I looked at ma’s cake on the table and wondered if they’d be needin’ it after all. I had a thought about takin’ a piece, but I reckoned it’d weigh less than a pound then, so got me a orange soda outta the ice box instead and ran out back to add the two gum wrappers to my rope. Yep! It was gonna be a long one!
wonderful!!! LOVE how you kept consistency with the accent throughout. Must have been really hard! That piece was, “that was a long one.” 😀 But really great POV!
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Thanks, Fim, dear. It was interesting to figure out how to misspell words! 😀
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Ooh, this is great! You certainly turned that 12yo into a character. Loved the accent 🙂
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I kind of think I was paying more attention to that than to the story. (Lordy! Look at all those t’s!) It was kind of fun to write. I’ve been reading a lot of other ones on the W101 commons. Man! There’s a lot of ways to tell that story! Thanks for stopping by, Sonya. I’ll have to check your blog out later this evening.
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wish I would have read yours first then I might have done something else yours is a great story thoroughly enjoyed it.
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Well you know what they say about great minds! 😀
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Very interesting – the way you used consistency in his language. Excellent. Really loved it.
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Thanks, friend. I was going to leave you a note somewhere and thank you again for the comment you left on the blog about Sophie. I’ve had occasion in the last couple days to think back on that. Guess you were being an obedient messenger…
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Love this one GF! You have a good voice to writing from this point of view. I’d really like to see you get back to Glencara’s Bane. Tweaking Clare to be a stronger character might be a good place to start, then move on the descriptive stuff.
Writing description type things is harder then I thought it would be. So I know how that feels! I’m kind of stuck on the love/lust/sex scene between Taylor and Devon. I think it’s the descriptive stuff between them that’s tripping me up. I never realized what a prude I was! LOL
Anyway…Great job! You really should make a binder, print all your writings, and but then in as hard copies.
Luv Ya GF!
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If you’re gettin’ bogged down in the love scenes, leave them blank for now and move on with the story proper. Especially if that’s what’s holding you back in the writing. The story is excellent with or without the bedroom stuff. Why not try putting that on the back burner for awhile and move ahead?
I’m okay with all the scenes in GB. It’s just Clare. I don’t feel like I know her. Plato is going to give me a hand. Maybe he can profile her for me. I can’t get a handle on her. Gave her a limp! That didn’t help! LOL
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I could of sworn, I was typing a comment and must have hit enter when I typed, “you captured the attention span of a 12 year old,” before I hit delete by mistake. What a garbled mess of a comment this is. I like your story and the length of it too. It seems fine. You couldn’t pay me to fake an accent in writing. I think it was mighty fine.
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LOL I suck at it. But once they mentioned To Kill A Mockingbird in the instructions I couldn’t get it out of my head. That’s my favorite book of all time. It was interesting to write. Not fun. I don’t do well with description. But hey, it’s a learning experience, right? Nice to see you, friend. Hope all is well in your neck of the woods?
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I thought your voice was consistent. I didn’t see the need for more detail from a 12 year old boy. Having had three 12 year old boys they are not very in depth about the details unless they are attached to them or done to them directly. It was fine, very fine actually. Take a look at my last three/four posts that will clue you in to the status of things on https://metalflowermaker.wordpress.com
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I will do that post haste!
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Thank you!
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Calen Twain. 🙂 Great job sugar. You do that so well!
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I’m finding I kind of don’t have the patience to describe scenes. Like you. But that accent was so stuck in my head after watching TV last night. And I suppose the reference to TKAM in the instructions sent me in that direction since that’s my favorite book of all time. I laughed right out loud at yon PP’s comment. She’s gotta me from the south, too. 😀 Still, I liked the way you did yours. I think it was more to the spirit of the prompt. I was just trying to give the boy some tags. Made it too long and involved.
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You do it very well. I come and go with it depending on my mood. If i’m distracted or not into it, its just work.
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That whole description thing is part of the reason Glencara’s Bane is still sitting here waiting to be edited. Well, that and that I hate the main character. Whiny little simp. I listened to yours twice and let HL listen to it. Heck, I could listen to you read all day, even if it was just the phone book. Especially if you did it with your customary attitude! 😀 ❤
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That is how home sounds. I’m not quite that bad generally. 🙂 But there is a certain music to that language. I could introduce you to folks who talk just like that. (likegat)
What does she need? Why is she whinny?
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😀 loved that likegat! You’re right about there being a certain music to that language. I think the same thing when I hear folks from Appalachia. I love their kind of blue grass music as well. I know there’s a name for it ’cause B listen’s to it all the time. I sound TOTALLY different after spending two weeks at home. I get a real hybrid accent.
I don’t know what she needs. I should send you a description of her and tell you where the story goes. Maybe you’d have some insights into how she’d be. Wanna do that when you have time?
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Yes very much!
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K. I’ll write it up and send it to you. Be excited about the great day that’s ahead of you, boyo…
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This is reeely good, Mizz C! ! I was imagin’ your li’l boy lookin’ kinda like Opie from Mayberry. I reckon’ they didn’t live too far apart. Betcha they knew oneanutter.. It’d make sense those two being pals. And ya know what else Mizz C? If I be thinkin’ all that, your story gotta be reeel good. Gettin’ my imageenation goin’ and all. I reeely liked it! You be a good wrider lady!
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LROL! I couldn’t help the accent. We’d just watched CSI:New Orleans and it was SO stuck in my head. I imagine Chris on there sounding like that when he was a boy. Your dialogue hits closer to home, I think, spellin’ wise. Your comment was a hoot! Can’t wait to see what you do with this. 😀
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Ain’t doin’ it. Too nice out : )
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Spokin’ like a true 12-year-old! Proud of ya fer learnin’ the word NO! Plato would be so pleased. LOL He says we need to say NO a lot more.
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