MONDAYS ARE FREE 061 — 065
Memory, Annie, Turner syndrome, and Public Art
EXERCISE 061: THE MAGIC OF MEMORY, PART 1
early friendship and sensory detail
Set a timer for ten minutes and jot down three resonant scenes that involve friendship(s) in your youth. Now look at them and circle the one you’re most drawn to return to. Write about that scene until your timer goes off, providing as many sensory details—of as many different kinds—as you can. (How many senses can you get in there?)
Annie
I was 12 or 13, a seventh grader cast as Tessie in a production of Annie at an Equity dinner theatre near Louisville, Kentucky. “Oh My Goodness” the hydraulic stage — part space ship, part cloud, part magic jeanie bottle — floated every night in the theatre in the round. When we weren’t on stage, my orphan crew watched from above (when the stage had descended) and quietly whispered the words to the songs while our magical cast of friends from all over the world danced and sang. When we were on stage, the lights and music were intoxicating. It was hot like sizzle and shine. I already knew what that meant. It smelled like joy. My toes remembered the choreography like I was born knowing all the moves. My eyes looked out into the crowd like I was 1000 feet tall. My breath quickened just enough and I sang my song. It all made sense then. The elation of being good at something. The value of rehearsal and discipline and showing up. The sun coming out tomorrow.
EXERCISE 062: THE MAGIC OF MEMORY, PART 2
(re) framing your story
If you haven’t yet done so, write your own piece that captures resonant scene(s) and details from a friendship of your youth. (See my previous post for more instructions on that.)
When you’re done, go back and revise, and, if you like, add another of Gerstler’s elements, such as (a) a frame that includes the present day and/or (b) an element of rewriting or imagining alternate pasts/futures (“In this version of the story…”).
If you did the first part previously, this might also function as an exercise in what you’re able to see about a draft after letting it sit for a period of time!
Annie after 40 years
I haven’t thought about Annie for many years. When I wrote, “I already knew what that meant,” I thought about what I already knew way back then. I had to remember my fundamental belief about myself. I had to revisit my I am. I had to think about my not yet. My courage and fearlessness. My joy and creativity. My sure footing and song. When we know. Before we forget. When there is no separation between our still small voice and our day-to-day rhythm. At 12 or 13, when we thirst for certainty, but already understand life’s fluid truth. My orphan Annie self, who felt beautiful and excellent, connected and powerful, full-throated and amazing forgot so much that I stitch together in thoughts and words today.
EXERCISE 063: BORROWING FORM
“Back then it seemed like… ”
Start with “Back then it seemed like …”
Then report the details of a scene or scenes from youth that were particularly fraught or compelling. (Perhaps particularly having to do with sexuality and issues of freedom/control? Or with your body when you were younger?)
Include reference to a myth or fairy tale. (Perillo uses Helen of Troy.)
Start another stanza with “For how many years did I believe …”
Experiment with long lines.
Toward the end of your second stanza, try to include one or two unexpected metaphors or similes (akin to Perillo’s “the skin’s phosphorescence, its surface as velvet as a deer’s new horn”).
Back then it seemed like I was invincible. Then the diagnosis at age 15. After a Sisyphean effort to push rock after rock, test after test, up the hill for more than a year, an effort that I did not understand, when I would have rather been normal, we discovered Turner syndrome.
For how many years did I believe that I would have children if I so choose. The impossible to reach grocery shelves, driving while barely seeing over the steering wheel, clothes that never fit, beautiful shoes that aren’t made in my size, too high mirrors in our house, the weird pictures with my husband where he is at the top of the frame and only my face is at the bottom, the steady stream of tests and appointments with a team of physicians, and the data base of prescriptions I have organized in morning and night pill cases, are the lace through which shines the light of my days.
EXERCISE 064: WRITE A SCENE
everything that might make a scene interesting
Write the scene of a very brief but important encounter from your past. If there was speaking, make it as accurate as possible. Note everything that might make a scene interesting — location, time of day, what things look/sound/feel like, how people move, how things are like other things, the silence and stillness, etc.
It was December, 2023. I had eaten breakfast with my family who had all flown to Austin from across to the United States. (It wound up being the last trip my grandparents would take.) I had purchased a traditional cap and wool gown and burnt orange decorated stole a few months prior, with enough time for the gown to be altered. My hair had not been cut for ages. It was pulled back in a barrette. I put on my brand new black interview suit and then proceeded to step into my cap and gown.
My father drove me to the graduation ceremony. He has a doctorate. I grew up understanding what that meant. The steps involved. The steel and muscle. The doors that open and close. The role my mom played. As he drove, he explained, “I am so proud of you. You know. No one will ever be able to take this away from you.” There might have even been a “No matter what.” attached to that, too.
We arrived and I walked to the auditorium and stood in the line that was forming around the side of the building with other graduates. The line began to move and we eventually entered and slowly moved to the stage. On the edge of the stage I made eye contact with the people who would be placing my hood and shaking my hand — my dissertation chair and the university Provost with whom I had taken a course. Two leaders who had profoundly impacted my education and my path. The moment felt simultaneously fast forward and slow motion. Crystal clear and blurry. A start and a finish. The culmination of years.
EXERCISE 065: WRITE WHAT YOU’RE TOLD
aside from the fact
Describe being told a very interesting story that does not have anything to do with you, aside from the fact that it was told to you.
We live next to a statue of two red wolves that sits on the Atlanta Beltline — an interurban trail around Atlanta’s core. I read an article about the statue in a local newspaper and my researcher’s wings took flight. The statue was a surprise wedding gift from friends and family to the couple who live in the restored historical brick factory building on the same street. I walked next door and talked to the couple. When the friends and family gifted the project, they decided to have a juried competition. They received more than 100 proposals from all over the world. They selected Canis Rufus. The statue sits on top of bricks from the neighborhood, and railroad ties that harken back to the railroad that historically passed through the neighborhood. Canis Rufus represents the plight of the endangered species and a neighborhood that has known time and change. All that is part of the design.