Kristin Howard

Preface: Please note that this is a fictional memoir; therefore, the amount of dialogue is limited and the language and format are unique.

Fate 101

             Fate can be both an immense blessing and a cruel joke.  A number of people give fate credit for all of the joys that life brings such as new love, a new child, or any other unexpected gain in life.  Others blame fate for tragedies that occur, refusing to blame themselves or others for their tribulations.  For me, fate is neither friend nor foe, but instead a contradicting shadow that hides dormant most of the time, yet, a very realistic reminder of how life can take an unforeseen turn.  What a cliché to say that “life has its ups and downs,” but what happens when the down never seems to rise back up?  The experience is like plummeting deeper and deeper into an endless void, quietly gasping for air and slowly dying inside--still functioning and interacting with loved ones around you, life as normal.  Nine hours was all it took for life to come to a screeching halt.  It will take the rest of my life to comprehend and learn to deal with the consequences that developed afterward.

            It was an ordinary, uneventful night of homework, grilled cheese sandwiches, and gossip as my best friend and I piled up on my bed to procrastinate, as usual, with assignments that were due the next morning.  It was a small town and there wasn’t much going on.  I only had a quarter of a tank of gas, and that was just enough to get me to school and back before the ever so anticipated weekly paycheck.  Our apartment had no windows, if you would call it an apartment.  It was the loft above a home health office, which had been renovated into a small two bedroom unit.  There wasn’t really anything significant about it, except I can remember wondering what we would do in case of a fire.  I was always wondering, thinking, planning, analyzing, and hoping.  I wondered if there was more out there, thinking about what I needed to do the next day, planning my life, analyzing everything and everyone around me, and most of all, I was hoping to find that special someone that I was supposed to be with. 

Jay, my current boyfriend, was up to no good.  I think that is what I liked about him initially.  I had left my perfectly great, supportive, loving and caring boyfriend, Jared, who so desperately pleaded for me to stay and work things out.  All I could think of is the “better” life and all of the great things that were destined to come my way if I could just break free from Jared and his family that I had grown so close to.  I even lived with him for a few months.  I can remember putting all of his clothes at the very back end of the closet and cramming all of my clothes (even the ones that did not fit) to the front.  I placed all of the hunting, fishing, and car models in a cabinet and put all of my trinkets so prominently displayed in front.  He said nothing.  He was just happy I was there.  It was miserably perfect.

            One day as I was coming home from work I was surprised to see Jared and two new faces on the front porch sitting there smoking cigarettes and talking, catching up on old times.  I hated cigarettes.  It was four months before I saw those two again.  It was four months before I broke it off with Jared and started dating one of his, as his mother would say, “no good friends.”  It was four months before I made the biggest mistake of my life.

            It wasn’t long before I was enjoying the “better” life that I had wanted for so long.  My friends and family did not seem to think it was so great.  They could see I had become defiant in everything they had to say.  I was rebelling but I am still not quite sure who I was rebelling against.  My parents?  My friends?  Myself?  Regardless of my target, I was doing a great job.  I still thought about Jared a lot.  He was perfect for me and I knew that.  Jay was not the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but he was so addicting.  I was addicted to him the same way he seemed to be addicted to the drugs that he kept bringing into our house.  The same way he was addicted to staying out all night and not calling.  The same way he was breaking my heart.  I wanted out but my pride wouldn’t let me leave.  Pride barricaded my heart from all of the things that I truly loved and told me that it was too late to go back.  It told me that this is what I wanted and this was what I was stuck with so I listened.

            About three years passed by in my misery and then fate stepped in.  One of my (not so close) mutual, yet reputable, friends called me and told me to go to The Garden Apartments, 705 Main Street, more specifically, apartment 12B.  I still remember the number like it is engraved on the back of my eyelids.  Every time I close my eyes I think about that night.  I knew something was wrong, but I was both excited and terrified of what I would find when I arrived.  This was a familiar place to me.  I regularly dropped off Jay here to visit friends when I was on my way to work.  He didn’t know much about work.  Maybe he needed a ride, I thought, wondering why he did not just call me from the pay phone downstairs like usual.  When I approached the door, I could hear the loud thumping of bass from the stereo.  It seemed to bump in tune with my heart as it began to pound harder and harder as I walked up the stairs.

            I had to bang on the door; I can remember it hurt my hand because I had to bang for so long.  To my surprise Claire opened the door; we had a mutual disliking since high school.  She had always been a “bad girl” and desperately wanted everyone to notice that trait about her.  Before I could mutter a word, Jay reached around her and playfully pulled her back into the room.  When he noticed who was standing at the door, he immediately slammed it right in my face.  I was angry, sad, hurt, joyful, relieved and confused all at the same time.  I just stood there.  I could hear talking on the other side of that chipped, dilapidated door, next giggling, and then a shout from him to go away.  I was not going away.  I deserved an explanation although I really didn’t need one.  I just needed confirmation that I just experienced what I thought I experienced.  I heard someone calling my name from downstairs, it was my best friend Crystal pleading for me to stop yelling because the cops were going to be called if I didn’t leave.  I had not committed a crime; I was innocent.  How did she know where I was?  Did she follow me?  I did not even realize what a commotion I was making.  Jay was a coward.  No one would open the door.

            People always say when one door closes, another one will open.  Well, in my case when one door is slammed in my face, another one will be slammed in my face shortly thereafter--fate is not always kind.  I sat in reflection for what seemed like endless hours on my bed.  I thought about the years preceding this one night, and once again wondered, thought, planned, analyzed, and hoped that I would be able to deal with this effectively.  As an optimist, I should take this obstacle and find something positive to embrace.  It was really hard to be optimistic; it was definitely a forced emotion at the time.  Then I thought to myself, “fate, that’s what it is!”  I was so thrilled to have cleverly uncovered God’s ultimate plan for my life.  Cue Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus with full lights and angels singing; all I had to do was make a phone call.  It was late by that time, but I knew that his parents wouldn’t mind.  After all, they loved me.  One late night/early morning call wouldn’t hurt.  Astonishingly, she knew what I wanted as I awkwardly tried to make small talk.  The phone call: (I can still remember the exact words till this day)… [need better transition here]

“Hello.”  Jared answered the phone, but he obviously didn’t recognize the number.  He would have said, “What’s up?” if he had known it was me.  I didn’t answer, there was silence on the line.

“Helllllloooo!?”  Jared was sounding annoyed.

“Hey, what are you doing?”  I finally got out.  It sounded lame even to me, but I just knew this was what I needed.

“Who is this?,” Jared asked surprised and unsure if he had the right voice matched with the right person.

 “It’s Kristin,” I said a little rhetorically.  He knew who it was.  “How have you been? I got your number from your mom. I hope you don’t mind.”  I kept talking to break the silence; was he ever going to say anything?!

“Why would I mind?” he defended.  “Where’s Jay?”  Apparently he wasn’t above sarcasm even if I was making the effort to finally call him. 

“I don’t know and I don’t care.  Well, I really don’t want to talk about it.  I know that you probably hate me, but I just wanted to say that I am sorry for everything.  I have wanted to say that for a long time.”  I let the apology spill out, but Jared didn’t say anything.  It was quiet again.

“I know it’s late.  I will let you go for now, but keep my number and you can call me sometime if you want.  If not, I understand.”  I felt like crying.  This wasn’t going the way I had planned.

 “Do you have to be somewhere?”  Jared finally spoke as I was beginning to curse for letting myself be put in this situation in the first place.  I’ve always hated vulnerability.

 “No,” I said hopefully.  Maybe I was going to have my chance at happiness again.

After Jared asked me what was wrong, I told him everything.  We talked, listened, joked, and rediscovered each other after more than three years apart.  Finally at 3:30 in the morning, we said goodbye.

            The phone rang at 6:30AM.  It isn’t quite daylight outside in my memory, and all I could think is that it better not be Jay.  It must not have been for me because Crystal had not brought the phone to me yet.  As I quickly started to drift back off into dreamland, Crystal flicked the light on.  I hated when she did that.

 “Wake up,” she said in a not so Crystal like tone.  I was half inquisitive, half grouchy when I pick up the phone.  It was his mother.  Jared’s mother, one of the sweetest, kindest, forgiving people I knew, traits that Jared had obviously inherited.  I could see tears swelling up in Crystal’s eyes as she came and sat down with me on my bed.  “No!” I shouted and ran out of the room shedding my first tears of the past nine hours.  I remember all of these thoughts running through my head.  “Why me?  Why him?  Why now?”  Crystal caught up to me and tried to console me the best she could.  I did not want to be consoled.  I wanted to be dead too.  She told me what happened.  He had fallen asleep at the wheel on his way to work that morning.  It was my fault; there was no other explanation for it.  I had kept him up too long on the phone; he was tired and crashed into that light pole all because of my selfishness.  Was it karma, bad luck, or destiny?  No, it was fate, my nemesis—back to finish what it started.

            I remember seeing Jay at the funeral home sitting there so quiet and dazed.  After all, it was his friend.  Did he know that it was my fault?  Did he blame me?  Did I blame him?  My thoughts were all a blur at that point, and I could not muster the words to even speak or even exchange painful glares with him.  I remember sitting so silently with his family afterwards and feeling a crushing weight on my chest.  Sometimes I can still feel the pressure when I think about it.  I will never forget what his angel of a mother said to me.  “Kristin,” she said, “don’t you know it was a blessing from God that you and Jared got to speak, make amends, and put the past behind you before he moved on?  How would you feel if you did not have that opportunity to talk to him?  Do you think it was a coincidence?”

I thought about it for a while, once again, and came to the conclusion that fate can be both an immense blessing and cruel joke.  Sometimes a person may not quite understand why things happen, but how life’s ups and downs are dealt with is what’s most important.  Never fake happiness and you will be truly happy.  Never place unnecessary blame and you will remain sane.

Revision Account

1. How did your poem or fiction piece originate? How did you come up with the idea? Did the work pre-exist the class, or did you write it this semester?

My fiction piece originated from an idea that popped into my head this semester about how I wanted to write a fictional account of a “real” life incident from a first person viewpoint of the author.  The vague outline came somewhat from personal experience but for the most part it is fictional.  It evolved as I wrote leading up to the ending; however, did not change too much as I finished.  I took in all I could from the workshop and noted how my classmates configured their fictional pieces.  I wanted to do something a little different while still telling an interesting story.  I definitely plan on working on this more because it was so fun.  Yet, I still stressed over it just as much as I would any other writing assignment. 

2. Whether you presented the poem in class or did a draft exchange, what kind of response did you receive and what did you learn? Welcome to quote and judge reactions. If you did a draft exchange, identify your reviewers and how you found them.

My reviewers were Charol Malak, a student in one of my other classes and Amber Buitron, one of my fellow classmates.  The draft exchange process went really well.  I had a lot of feedback, especially grammatical error corrections!  Some of the suggestions helped my piece to flow better and give it more depth.  I got my first “no holds barred” critique as one of my reviewers said that she didn’t think that it felt real or believable and that the names that I used were not so great.  I suppose I am used to the “nice” critiques that usually give only good feedback or constructive criticism.  Surprisingly, it worked out for the best because it made me be more critical towards my own writing.  Amber’s critique was very helpful but I felt that she was more focused on the grammar than the actual content.  I wish I would have gotten a little more about the plot, characters, or flow.  Having a second draft exchange helped me realize that every time this method is used, it will be different and yield different results.  So, if one experience is bad it is not necessary to discard the method.

3. What kinds of changes or revisions did you make as a result of these reactions?

Obviously, I did some grammatical corrections.  I also changed and omitted some of the descriptive words to make it sound better when read aloud.  For instance, Amber found that I was using the word “yet” too repeatedly.  I changed the word attribute to trait.  I had a few awkward sentences that I changed.

BEFORE: They could see the change in me as I was in defiance of everything they had to say.  I was rebelling.  I am still not quite sure of who I was rebelling against.  My parents?  My friends?  Myself?  The next door neighbor? 

AFTER:  They could see I had become defiant in everything they had to say.  I was rebelling but I am still not quite sure who I was rebelling against.  My parents?  My friends?  Myself? 

I just rephrased the sentence and omitted “The next door neighbor?”  I also had a sentence on page four that was telling the reading what they should be thinking instead of letting them figure it out for themselves.  “It was an indication that some major life changing events were about to transpire.”  That sentence really took away from my initial idea to create a fictional memoir.

4. What is your opinion of the current status of your manuscript (following revision)?  What are its strengths? What further development does it need? Is it part of a larger work?

I am pleased with my manuscript and the amount of time that I put into it.  I think that its strengths include the storyline and the way that the beginning ties to the end while explaining the author’s take on fate.  My fictional memoir could use further development in the development of the characters, especially if I am going to add to it (which I plan to do).  Right now it is just a “memory” of a time that passed.  I am not sure if I want to make the whole work in a diary style format or if I want to add to this particular memory or add a series of interesting memories coming from the eyes of an older woman or maybe even a young adult recalling her first love.  There are so many possibilities and that really excites me!

5. Future developments: Possible publication? Additions or research required? What would you like to be able to accomplish for this manuscript that you can’t quite do yet?

I don’t think this manuscript is publication quality but maybe as my writing progresses I may look into it.  I would like to research more about fictional memoirs since they aren’t really very popular or explored yet.  I discussed the possible addition ideas above.  I can’t quite put a “face” on my author yet.  I would like to fully discover who the author is as a person so I can continue with the additions. 

ORIGINAL TEXT BEFORE REVISION:

Preface: Please note that this is a fictional memoir, therefore, the amount of dialogue is limited and the language and format are unique.

[Title]

            Fate can be both an immense blessing and a cruel joke.  A number of people give fate credit for all of the joys that life brings such a new love, a new child, or any other unexpected gain in life.  Others blame fate for tragedies that occur, refusing to blame themselves or others for their tribulations.  For me, fate is neither friend nor foe, but instead a contradicting shadow that hides dormant most of the time, yet, still a very realistic reminder of how life can take an unforeseen turn.  What a cliché to say that “life has its ups and downs,” but what happens when the down never seems rise back up?  The experience is like plummeting deeper and deeper into an endless void, quietly gasping for air and slowly dying inside. Yet, still functioning and interacting with loved ones around you, life as normal.  Nine hours was all it took for life as normal to come to a screeching halt.  It will take the rest of my life to comprehend and learn to deal with the consequences that developed afterward.

            It was an ordinary, uneventful night of homework, grilled cheese sandwiches, and gossip as my best friend and I piled up on my bed to procrastinate, as usual, with assignments that were due the next morning.  It was a small town and there wasn’t much going on.  I only had a quarter of a tank of gas, and that was just enough to get me to school and back before the ever so anticipated weekly paycheck.  Our apartment had no windows, if you would call it an apartment.  It was the loft above a home health office, which had been renovated into a small two bedroom unit.  There wasn’t really anything significant about it, except I can remember wondering what we would do in case of a fire.  I was always wondering, thinking, planning, analyzing, and hoping.  I wondered if there was more out there, thinking about what I needed to do the next day, planning my life, analyzing everything and everyone around me, and most of all, I was hoping to find that special someone that I was supposed to be with. 

Jay, my current boyfriend was up to no good.  I think that is what I liked about him initially.  I had left my perfectly great, supportive, loving and caring boyfriend, Jared, who so desperately pleaded for me to stay and work things out.  All I could think of is the “better” life and all of the great things that were destined to come my way if I could just break free from Jared and his family that I had grown so close to.  I even lived with him for a few months.  I can remember putting all of his clothes at the very back end of the closet and cramming all of my clothes (even the ones that did not fit) to the front.  I placed all of the hunting, fishing, and car models in a cabinet and put all of my trinkets so prominently displayed in front.  He said nothing.  He was just happy I was there.  It was miserably perfect.

            One day as I was coming home from work, I was surprised to see Jared and two new faces on the front porch sitting there smoking cigarettes and talking, catching up on old times.  I hated cigarettes.  It was four months before I saw those two again.  It was four months before I broke it off with Jared and started dating one of his, as his mother would say, “no good friends.”  It was four months before I made the biggest mistake of my life. [Four months? Too much? Just trying to reiterate the short period of time for the change in lifestyle]

            It wasn’t long before, four months to be exact, until I was enjoying the “better” life that I had wanted for so long.  My friends and family did not seem to think it was so great.  They could see the change in me as I was in defiance of everything they had to say.  I was rebelling.  I am still not quite sure of who I was rebelling against.  My parents?  My friends?  Myself?  The next door neighbor?  Regardless of my target, I was doing a great job.  I still thought about Jared a lot.  He was perfect for me and I knew that.  Jay was not the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but he was so addicting.  I was addicted to him the same way he seemed to be addicted to the drugs that he kept bringing into our house.  The same way he was addicted to staying out all night and not calling.  The same way he was breaking my heart.  I wanted out but my pride wouldn’t let me leave.  Pride barricaded my heart from all of the things that I truly loved and told me that it was too late to go back.  It told me that this is what I wanted and this was what I was stuck with.  I listened.

            About three years passed by in my misery and then fate stepped in.  One of my (not so close) mutual, yet reputable, friends called me and told me to go to The Garden Apartments, 705 Main Street, more specifically, apartment 12B.  I still remember the number like it is engraved on the back of my eyelids.  Every time I close my eyes I think about that night.  I knew something was wrong, but I was both excited and terrified of what I would find when I arrived.  This was a familiar place to me.  I regularly dropped off Jay here to visit friends when I was on my way to work.  He didn’t know much about work.  Maybe he needed a ride, I thought, wondering why he did not just call me from the pay phone downstairs like usual.  When I approached the door, I could hear the loud thumping of bass from the stereo.  It seemed to bump in tune with my heart as it began to pound harder and harder as I walked up the stairs.

            I had to bang on the door; I can remember it hurt my hand because I had to bang for so long.  To my surprise Claire opened the door; we had a mutual disliking since high school.  She had always been a “bad girl” and desperately wanted everyone to notice that attribute about her.  Before I could mutter a word, Jay reached around her and playfully pulled her back into the room.  When he noticed who was standing at the door, he immediately slammed it right in my face.  It was an indication that some major life changing events were about to transpire.  I was angry, sad, hurt, joyful, relieved and confused all at the same time.  I just stood there.  I could hear talking on the other side of that chipped, dilapidated door, next giggling, and then a shout from him to go away.  I was not going away.  I deserved an explanation although I really didn’t need one.  I just needed confirmation that I just experienced what I thought I experienced.  I heard someone calling my name from downstairs, it was my best friend Crystal pleading for me to stop yelling because the cops were going to be called if I didn’t leave.  I had not committed a crime; I was innocent.  How did she know where I was?  Did she follow me?  I did not even realize what a commotion I was making.  Jay was a coward.  No one would open the door.

            People always say when one door closes, another one will open.  Well, in my case when one door is slammed in my face, another one will be slammed in my face shortly thereafter--fate is not always kind.  I sat in reflection for what seemed like endless hours on my bed.  I thought about the years preceding this one night, and once again wondered, thought, planned, analyzed, and hoped that I would be able to deal with this effectively.  As an optimist, I should take this obstacle and find something positive to embrace.  It was really hard to be optimistic; it was definitely a forced emotion at the time.  Then I thought to myself, “fate, that’s what it is!”  I was so thrilled to have cleverly uncovered God’s ultimate plan for my life.  Cue Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus with full lights and angels singing; all I had to do was make a phone call.  It was late by that time, but I knew that his parents wouldn’t mind.  After all, they loved me.  One late night/early morning call wouldn’t hurt.  Astonishingly, she knew what I wanted as I awkwardly tried to make small talk.  The phone call: (I can still remember the exact words till this day)… [need better transition here]

“Hello.”  Jared answered the phone, but he obviously didn’t recognize the number.  He would have said, “What’s up?” if he had known it was me.  I didn’t answer, there was silence on the line.

“Helllllloooo!?”  Jared was sounding annoyed.

“Hey, what are you doing?”  I finally got out.  It sounded lame even to me, but I just knew this was what I needed.

“Who is this?,” Jared asked surprised and unsure if he had the right voice matched with the right person.

 “It’s Kristin,” I said a little rhetorically.  He knew who it was.  “How have you been? I got your number from your mom. I hope you don’t mind.”  I kept talking to break the silence; was he ever going to say anything?!

“Why would I mind?” he defended.  “Where’s Jay?”  Apparently he wasn’t above sarcasm even if I was making the effort to finally call him. 

“I don’t know and I don’t care.  Well, I really don’t want to talk about it.  I know that you probably hate me, but I just wanted to say that I am sorry for everything.  I have wanted to say that for a long time.”  I let the apology spill out, but Jared didn’t say anything.  It was quiet again.

“I know it’s late.  I will let you go for now, but keep my number and you can call me sometime if you want.  If not, I understand.”  I felt like crying.  This wasn’t going the way I had planned.

 “Do you have to be somewhere?”  Jared finally spoke as I was beginning to curse for letting myself be put in this situation in the first place.  I’ve always hated vulnerability.

 “No,” I said hopefully.  Maybe I was going to have my chance at happiness again.

After Jared asked me what was wrong, I told him everything.  We talked, listened, joked, and rediscovered each other after more than three years apart.  Finally at 3:30 in the morning, we said goodbye.

            The phone rang at 6:30AM.  It isn’t quite daylight outside in my memory, and all I could think is that it better not be Jay.  It must not have been for me because Crystal had not brought the phone to me yet.  As I quickly started to drift back off into dreamland, Crystal flicked the light on.  I hated when she did that.

 “Wake up,” she said in a not so Crystal like tone.  I was half inquisitive, half grouchy when I pick up the phone.  It was his mother.  Jared’s mother, one of the sweetest, kindest, forgiving people I knew, traits that Jared had obviously inherited.  I could see tears swelling up in Crystal’s eyes as she came and sat down with me on my bed.  “No!” I shouted and ran out of the room shedding my first tears of the past nine hours.  I remember all of these thoughts running through my head.  “Why me?  Why him?  Why now?”  Crystal caught up to me and tried to console me the best she could.  I did not want to be consoled.  I wanted to be dead too.  She told me what happened.  He had fallen asleep at the wheel on his way to work that morning.  It was my fault; there was no other explanation for it.  I had kept him up too long on the phone; he was tired and crashed into that light pole all because of my selfishness.  Was it karma, bad luck, or destiny?  No, it was fate, my nemesis—back to finish what it started.

            I remember seeing Jay at the funeral home sitting there so quiet and dazed.  After all, it was his friend.  Did he know that it was my fault?  Did he blame me?  Did I blame him?  My thoughts were all a blur at that point, and I could not muster the words to even speak or even exchange painful glares with him.  I remember sitting so silently with his family afterwards and feeling a crushing weight on my chest.  Sometimes I can still feel the pressure when I think about it.  I will never forget what his angel of a mother said to me.  “Kristin,” she said, “don’t you know it was a blessing from God that you and Jared got to speak, make amends, and put the past behind you before he moved on?  How would you feel if you did not have that opportunity to talk to him?  Do you think it was a coincidence?”

I thought about it for a while, once again, and came to the conclusion that fate can be both an immense blessing and cruel joke.  Sometimes a person may not quite understand why things happen, but how life’s ups and downs are dealt with is what’s most important.  Never fake happiness and you will be truly happy.  Never place unnecessary blame and you will remain sane.

[work on dialogue, add happy ending J blake + fate, remember only 5-7pgs, double check grammar, think of title, transition time references a little better so that people will know when and in what order stuff is happening]