I can't help but flip through the latest issue of People Magazine while waiting in the grocery store line. A riveting headline catches my eye about the “never saw it coming” groom who takes out his bride. Or, more happily, the small-town adolescent who captivates a nation when she rescues 50 cats following the devastating tornadoes in her community.
Family photo by Peter GalvinTh
There, in the sidebar of the story, will often be the “before” photo of our central character when they were just a mom, dad, sister or brother. The face before fame or notoriety. Could you have imagined such a tragic storyline for Gabe? Such heroism for Susie? Such riches for Charles?
Pick a Family Member. Cast them in a future story.
PRACTICE
Just for fun, write for 15 minutes about one of the six people in the family photo above. Think of this photo as the “before” snapshot to your captivated “after.” It's the sidebar photo that leaves people pondering how your character ended up there from such humble and unassuming beginnings! Encourage your fellow writers, too!
Great idea! Sounds like fun. 🙂
I stared at the fading picture of my family. A smile turning
at my lips. I store it back in the little album of my childhood. I had grown
from that small little innocent little girl with the up smile to a hardworking
women. I closed the front door grabbing my purse and keys. I sat down in the driver’s
seat and turned the key. The dreaded sound of engine failing entered my ears.
Not now! I have an interview! I shouted as if could hear me.
After a few more tries I banged my head on the steering wheel in frustration. All the hardship I had been though lately. The divorce, the moving, the endless search for a job and now this. I sat there crying from all the pain. Suddenly I was 9 years old again
just a little girl living in a small town.
“Mom!” I yelled running into the kitchen the summer breeze drifting in from the outside. “What Ally?” Her tired old eyes smiled down at me. “Can I go with Max and Charles?” “Where?” “The pond.” “Ally… ““I know but I can take care of myself! “
“Fine but don’t forget the sunscreen!” “Okay!”
I raced after my brothers jumping from the wooden rickety
stairs of our old house and hop on my little purple bike. We left out bikes by
the little dirt path on the way to our secret hiding spot the trees rustled in
the breeze. The sun peeking through the trees casting shadows that danced
around with our imagination. Now that I was older I realized it was just a
small back wood with a pond but back then it was magical. The boys stripped
down to their swimsuits and I swam in a bathing suit. We stayed for hours. We
would make new games up with our imagination and have swimming contest, and
finally see who could hold their breath the longest. Finally we packed up our
towels and climbed on our bikes.
“Guys let’s make a promise to always come back here.” “Even when we’re old?” Max asked. “Of course when we’re old”. “Deal” we all said at once. We pedaled our bikes back home. Of course we forgot the sun screen and all had sun burns for days to come.
Now I’m 30 and hadn’t been there since I was probably 16. I dried my eyes and smiled at the fond memories. I picked up the phone to call my brother Charles. “Hey Charlie remember the pond?”
I love this. I could definitely feel the emotion & put myself in “Ally’s” shoes. The dreams of childhood, the pain of loss in adulthood, the recollection of hopeful times. Thank you for sharing this!
Beautiful. I loved how it came full circle.
If you met Jane in 1973, you wouldn’t have recognized her. She
wore short brown locks and a muted red dress. Compared to the rest of her
family, she was quiet, kept to herself, a bit of a loner. She often faded in
the background of her family, unnoticed and forgotten, as is common for a
middle child. You could often find Jane alone in her room, classifying her
dolls by species, and then by color. She didn’t play with them like normal kids—creating
a family story and dialoguing with them—for she didn’t know how. Dialogue wasn’t a part of her family
experience. She was an observer. She observed as her brother, just one year
older, was awarded and cheered for as the all-star on his baseball team. She
also observed as her younger sister, four at the time, was rewarded for
reciting the ABC’s. And also as her baby brother, slowly approaching two, was
celebrated for using the potty for the first time. Janie couldn’t remember
being celebrated. It was expected for her to be potty trained, as she was
already “late in the game” compared to her brother. By the time she was old
enough to begin sports or piano lessons her sister was born, taking away the
time and dedication of her parents signing her up for these things. Her life
became lost by the dreams and lives of her parents and siblings.
You would never guess that this was the beginning story for
Janie Duke, successful entrepreneur, but somehow she found her way, she found her
voice, and she pursued her passion.
I could feel the frustration, and despair about being the background middle child. I loved she changed her life for the better. How she proved herself. This felt like a real person.
Thank you Eliese, I appreciate it. It felt real to me as I was writing it too, mixing in some of my own personal experience while imagining parts of someone else’s experience. Thanks for your feedback.
Dumbo, they used to call him. Or Ears McGee. Or The Elephant Man. It was brutal, and he had the kind of childhood therapy victims wrote books about. The time his fellow sixth graders pinned him down and liked his eyeballs – his actual eyeballs! – was the worst. Crying didn’t even help him feel better after that – the tears transformed into enemy spit.
However, somewhere along the way, he’d learned to turn it back on the bullies. Being put in such a crushing position, he was forced to sink or swim. And he swam, with humor.
It all started, when in ninth grade, he changed the familiar adage in his public speaking class, saying, “I just flew in, and boy, are my ears tired.” It was a dumb little joke, but the class erupted in hysterics, including his teacher.
From that moment on, everything was about the joke, and he became obsessed. At first it was to have a self-deprecating quip ready, to deflate the assholes’ momentum. Then it became a hobby. Then a career.
As Chris stood backstage, waiting for his name to be announced, memories of his childhood flickered through his head, and he smiled. It was weird. Everything back then sucked. He had cried so many times. His mom, with her self-imposed mess of a haircut and bottles of vodka, did nothing to help. But that’s why he was here; he had saved himself. And, instead of hatred or sadness, he looked fondly on his childhood. Somewhere out there, the non-Dumbos were sitting behind stuffy desks or filling holes with concrete.
It all changed when he heard his name called. Flinching, Chris instinctively touched his ears, and the memories seemed to decay with rust and filth. He was tired of this feeling, but it hit before every show. Despite everything he’d become, the audience were always the bullies… at least during the first few minutes, until he won them over. He always won, but couldn’t erase the initial terror. Although he’d been successful for so long, he was certain the time would come when they wouldn’t laugh. And when that time came, they’d turn on him. The thought was horrifying, and in the moment, he was eleven again, on his back, with tongues being pressed into his eyeballs.
Taking a huge breath and swallowing back vomit, he stepped out on-stage, praying tonight wouldn’t be that night and, five minutes in, he’d be thirty-six again.
Very nice. Interesting, terrible way to bully someone. I liked the message of strength and overcoming something terrible by turning into something good. Nice job.
Thirty-three years goes by in a flash. Has it been that long? I look at this picture, me looking like a mountain man out of a bad B-movie, my wife Margie playing her best homey housewife, and my kids just trying to stay still. (We had to bribe my son Tommy, the boy on the right in blue, with a packet of bubble gum. That’s why he’s pursing his lips. He loved bubble gum. Used to get it in his hair all the time.)
Now it’s 2014. The kids are grown up. Molly’s a buddhist. Holly’s a doctor. Lenny’s a yoga instructor. Tommy’s a…well…we won’t talk about Tommy.
Margie and I divorced when our youngest left home. She lives next door with my best friend Jim. We all get along. There’s wine on Wednesdays at their place and Tequila at my place on Thursdays.
So what about me? What happened to the guy that by 1981 had deftly failed in five businesses and one ill-fated trip down the Amazon?
I used to go by my given name, Thadeus Hillenbrand Mauricio Jackson, Jr. Now I go by LIttle Mikey. You see, I’m a Michael Jackson impersonator on the Vegas Strip. I’ve lost most of my body weight, I have hair that my ex-wife envies, I’ve had forty seven plastic surgeries, I dance like Michael in his heyday, I have friends in every hotel on the strip, and, most importantly, I’m finally happy.
I am who I am. I live life day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute. I cherish the small things and remember fondly that cold November day when my wife and kids piled into our rusted station wagon and we drove to Olan Mills, where their experts created a memory that will last forever.
A sad look at what happens to a lot of moderns families with a, sort of, happy strange twist. Neat! I enjoyed reading this.
The audience claps and cheers as the tall, skinny, young woman with long brown locks and tan skin walks out onto the stage. Cameras follow her as she waves, and then greets the famous talk show host with a and slight, stiff hug.
“Leah May everybody.” The aging host with salt and pepper hair announces once more. The crowd puts their hands together in delight for a second tim. Leah flashes a bright white smile. She is charming and everyone seems to love her. Leah May is the current it girl.
“Welcome to the show.”
“Thanks for having me.” She says.
“How are things since the last time you were here? How old were you again?” He raises his eyebrow as he tries to remember.
“Seventeen.” She sips from her logo filled mug.
“Wow, you are all grown up. Beautiful.” The audience agrees with cheers. She laughs with half real embarrassment.
“Thank you.”
After some witty repartee, more laughter, and a commercial break they get to the meat of the interview.
“So you have another new movie coming out soon. Tell us a little about it.
“It is a comedy about a family that moved to another city. I play the daughter who wasn’t able to find a job and had to move back home, but insists that her 70 year old boyfriend must come with her.
“Sounds interesting.” The host comments with fake sincerity. “Lets see a clip.”
The screen goes dark and a picture appears instead of the video. It is a a old family portrait. The Father is a young red haired santa. Sitting next to him is a helmet haired mother giving a proud, but unfortunate smile. The children, two boys and two girls, expressions range from pleasant and smiling to strange and pursed lipped. The happiest face of them all is one of the girls; it is obviously Leah.
Leah laughs and turns away from the picture. He cheeks turn pink.
“Oops wrong clip! Was that you in the bottom left Leah?” He says his scripted joke.
“Yes that’s me and my family before we moved to the city.”
“From a little girl to a hollywood star. Amazing.” There is applause. The screen goes dark and the clip begins.
James’ heart was pounding as he stood in the wings awaiting the call for him to step out onto the stage to receive his commendation for his research into,stem cell treatment for blindness.
He had been working for what seemed a lifetime to try and find a medical answer for people suffering with total and partial loss of sight. It had been a driving force all through his growing years and later as a medical student. Now, at last, he and his team of research scientists had discovered a way to help those living in a world of darkness.
As he stood there, his mind flashed back to his childhood. The blindness of his younger brother, Ashley, had always seemed so unfair to him. His anger grew as he did and it became the driving force in his eagerness to do well at school and his dream to become a doctor became something he could almost feel. He was desperate to prove the doctors wrong who had said Ashley’s problems were impossible. If they couldn’t help Ashley, he would find a way. And that had happened. Hard work, sacrifice and deturmination, teamwork with other brilliant minds, ignoring and pushing past the controversial aspects of his work with stem cell research had brought rewards.
Ashley was still blind, but now there was hope. Doors were opening as more and more scientific studies were being done. Time would not standing still, and neither would James. This was his life’s work. Things would change as time progressed, and hopefully, with what was being learned through his team’s studies, blind people would eventually find themselves in a new world.
As he finished his reminiscing he suddenly heard his name being called out and the crowd stood to their feel and erupted in thankful applause for this special man as he stepped out onto the stage. His parents and three siblings the loudest in their thankful praise.
The interviewer waited patiently as Mancini Jones flipped
through the photo album on his lap. The hottest designer of 2014, Mancini had
been hard to pin down for this thirty minute interview and now he was using
some of the interviewer’s precious time taking a trip down memory lane. Long
artistic fingers turned the shiny pages of the old-fashioned photo album,
chocolate brown eyes scanned the yellowing photos, a slight twist bent the full
lips, occasionally unbending into a soft smile. He stopped with a snort, turned
the album around to face her, and pointed one perfectly manicured finger at a
photo. “That’s why I became a designer.”