The Plot Sickens: Free-write & Reflection

Free Write

                It was Christmas Eve. Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh Field. But who cares about that? I live in Somerset, Massachusetts; so what was happening in San Diego was the least of my concerns. It was about five o’clock in the afternoon. I sat on my living room couch, wrapped in my extra-large Snuggie, holding a mug full of white hot chocolate in one hand and the television remote in the other. As I did every year around this time, I was watching a marathon of Christmas movies. I began the marathon with both versions of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, then I proceeded to A Year Without a Santa Clause, and now I was watching one of my favorites The Santa Clause 3. I was home alone for a few hours while my mother was shopping.

                After I finished the last movie, Mom walked in with my sister carrying countless bags filled with presents. I said Hi to them then decided to go upstairs to bed. I walked up the stairs, down the hallway and to my door. But as I opened the door to my room, an avalanche fog rushed past me and into the hallway. My whole room was covered in a thick wall of fog. Then I noticed that the fog machine had been left on. My sister wanted to use my room for a photo shoot, so she used fog as a backdrop for some of the photos. I shut off the fog machine and opened my windows to let the fog out. After a while the fog was gone, so I closed the windows and settled into my bed. I fell asleep rather quickly.

                BANG! A loud noise woke me from a deep sleep. I look at the clock beside my bed, it is one o'clock in the morning. I quickly jump out of bed and run out to the living room to examine the situation. I slowly scan the room with my eyes, it is nearly pitch black. I grab a flashlight and walk a few steps towards the dining room then turned to my left. BANG! I turned my flashlight in the direction of the noise.

                Meow… it was my cat, who had knocked over one of our metal vases.

Reflection

                The passage that I have just read really opened my eyes about why people write the way they do this day and age. Howe was really able to convince me that she was correct. She used amazing quotes like, "Clearly these young writers don't know how to solve the problems they have invented in the first few pages." She also stated the reason for the students inability to solve the created issues as, "The forces of the Economy." I would say that the short story I have written is not what Howe describes in this passage. I believe that my short story had a decent plot with a problem and a solution. Unlike the stories that Howe's students wrote, which included a parade of problems for the protagonist without a solution to the created issues. I believe that my short story was the opposite of this. It had a problem, the 'BANG!' noise, and a solution, finding out that it was the cat.  I also believe that my story had more of a positive tone to it. Unlike some of the stories Howe's students composed. Mine had a happy plot that discussed the things I did on Christmas eve. The students stories often spoke of negative things such as selling drugs or explosions. While both the students short stories and mine had the same beginning, our plots varied.