Lesson 1 Notes

‘There is no right or wrong way to write your life story’. 

 I think I might disagree, after all, who wants to read about a boring life. Not that mine has been in any way boring.

‘If you’re hesitant, give yourself permission to write’.

Of course I’m hesitant, and I didn’t give anyone, including myself, permission to set me up in this blasted course!

‘When you’re finished with the course, you’ll have the tools to write your story.’

Well, imagine that. I’m not going to have to write a book after all, just do the homework.   I can just hear the booksellers sigh in relief.

‘Don’t be afraid to write about something sad. Remember that you may  need to separate yourself from a crisis situation to give you time to distance yourself from it.’ 

I don’t need the instructor to tell me that! I’m still too distraught to talk about Lee.

‘It’s up to you to reveal what is necessary and to determine what’s inappropriate’.

Doesn’t hurt that most of my life story is classified.

 

Homework assignment:

My homework assignment is to pick an object (pictures not allowed) in some way connected to my life. Then I’m supposed to hold it, feel it, smell it (heavens!) for 5 minutes. Then for the 5 minutes after, write down my recollections. Sentences are not required. But it has to be between 50 and 200 words.

 

 

Exquisite Brew

By Harriman Nelson

As I held my empty coffee cup I couldn’t help but to remember my very first sip of the dark, aromatic brew. My parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, not to mention the household staff usually began their day with it. But every time I asked for a taste, I was told I was ‘too young’ (Mother), and ‘why waste good coffee on a child who can’t possibly appreciate it.’(Father)

Frankly, I was getting a bit exasperated. Why did everyone treat me like a child? The fact that I was barely five years old didn’t enter my mind.

There was only one way to satisfy my curiosity.  I just didn’t appreciate that there would be consequences. But it had to be now or never.

 Father was hidden behind his newspaper so it was easy enough to sneak out from playing underneath the table (I had a railroad set under there-my parents were progressive in that way), so I grabbed  the cup’s handle and took a sip.

It tasted so revolting that I spat it out and accidently split some of it  all over the oriental rug. Frankly, I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Granted, the carpet was  over 200 years old, but it was quite faded, torn, and ugly. Still, it had been brought back to Boston by one of the family’s ancestral seafarers, so I guessed it had to be one of those grown up sentimental things that you love even when you hate it.

Before my mother could give me  a paddling, my grandmother came to my rescue, taking me in her arms, arguing  that I had a normal healthy curiosity. And that, after all, she was sure that I hadn’t meant to spill anything, besides, I might have burnt my hand or even dropped and broken the ‘darned’ cup. (That was the closest I ever heard her use profanity).

Then she assured  me that coffee was an ‘acquired’ taste, and that one day I might come to like it. Meanwhile my mother rang for the nanny to come collect me and for the  maids to come and clean up the mess.

As I shuffled out, my father shook his head sadly. I got the distinct impression that he  was on my side but too afraid of my mother when she got into one of her moods to say anything just then.  Mother scowled at both of us. But  I overheard my granny laugh, ‘Well, at least it wasn’t espresso’.

She was right that in years to come I could acquire a taste for coffee, even espresso. In fact, in my naval career, coffee is right up there with vitamin C as a daily necessity. I don’t scarf it down like my officers and crew. In fact Lee Crane is said to…was said to consume more than a gallon of the stuff a day…but that’s another story.

Okay, so I went over 200 words. So sue me.

Lesson 2 Class Notes

‘Chair Glue is what’s keeps you in your chair writing, or persistence.’

Doc might have to use chair glue literally to keep me in this course. In fact, I’m pretty familiar with chair glue literally,  but that’s another story.

 

‘Fiction is invented.’

 

 Like we all don’t know that.

 

‘Genre is a definite style or format in the arts, such as mysteries, romances, adventures, etc.’

 

Do I really need to know this?

 

‘Non fiction is based on real events.’

 

 Duh.

 

‘A writer’s journal is a book or notebook in which you jot down your thoughts, feelings, and creative notes. Many writers carry them everywhere.’

 

 If I were to keep a journal like Lee does, er, did, it would take up the entire wall of my father’s library. Lee called his journal a memory book- I suppose I should ask Mrs. Crane if I can see it again. At the time of Lee’s death, it was just too hard, and for all intents and purposes, too private, for me to look at.

 

‘Writer’s Voice are the words and phrases that reflect the feelings, ideas, and desires of the writer.’

 

Why not just call it my point of view?

 

 ‘Not everyone who writes wants to sell their story. Some write for their families and future generations, some write for therapeutic reasons, but don’t be afraid that you can’t write.’

 

I’m not afraid. I’m angry! Angry at Doc for forcing me to do this, angry at God for taking Lee away, and angry at Edith for  stealing Seaview!

 

‘Most books are about 200 pages. But there are other options, such as essays for magazines. Essays are especially good when writing about a chapter in your life such as a traumatic event, but you need to make every word count.’

 

Traumatic is right. Trying to write about  Lee’s experience  when he and his crew were captured, and Lee psychologically tortured when they put Farrell to death, when I was trapped inside the belly of a whale, when I had to manually disarm a nuclear bomb…the list of traumatic events in my life is endless, and much of it classified.  But the most traumatic was when Lee was killed in a horrifying explosion and there was nothing left of him.

 

‘Nostalgia articles are very popular with newspapers’.

 

Maybe in your paper, but none around here.

 

 

‘Think of yourself as an anthropologist to observe yourself or others.’

 

I think that as a scientist, I can do that with my eyes closed.

 

 

Assignment

I’m to write in 100 words or less, (what is it with the word count and the instructor?) a ‘dialogue scene’, then I’m to go visit a site mentioned in the supplemental materials to see how the experts do it.

 

 

Chair Glue

By Harriman Nelson

 

“I’m sorry, Skipper, but your pants are stuck tight,” my Chief Petty Officer aboard the Nautilus barely managed to conceal his amusement.

“Well, then, help me get out of them,” I said, irritated that I’d been to occupied with my report to notice the splotch of super glue on my cabin’s chair.

“Any idea who’s to blame for this practical joke?” I asked.

“Not a clue, sir.”

But I knew, and the chief  knew I knew. It was revenge for making the Ensign ‘stay put’ in our present port instead of joining his fellow officers for shore leave. And I wasn’t the only one that had overheard him mutter ‘Somebody should  show him who’s staying put.”

“Crane!” I yelled into the intercom, “get your butt down here on the double!”

 

In the end, no pun intended, it turned out that is wasn’t Lee Crane who’d snuck into my cabin to do the dastardly deed, just one of the crew who thought he was helping out a rather popular officer,  but to this date, I still wouldn’t have put it past Lee.

 

 

Well it says I’ve gone over the 100 word limit, so I overshot things again. But then, who’s really counting except the teacher.