Creative Response, Scott Dukes.

Hello friends!

The following is my creative response. If it looks familiar, it's because you heard me share it in class. I've never taken a creative writing course before, so I'm proud of the piece, if for no other reason than creating something outside my comfort zone.

I like that my dialogue is quick and fast-paced. I think this makes it more believable. Since the scene is simply two characters moving through a market, it would feel out of place to insert some monologue or soliloquy into the dialogue. However, I think having such short snippets of dialogue also keeps me from having that "dual function" in my dialogue. I'd love some suggestions there.

My other question is about the final sentence. Perhaps I just feel like I want whatever I want to have a clear "moral of the story," but I like the closing sentence. However, Professor Acevedo had some questions about what brought Paul to this conclusion. I would love feedback here. Maybe there's a way to get across the same idea (we should be giving more unexpected gifts these days! :) ) without being so overtly explicit. I just didn't want my story to feel...pointless. If that makes sense.

Well, happy reading, and on with the show!

More Tulips

All he needed was to grab some fresh flowers on his way home. A recompense for the inevitable. If not already, Rhonda would soon notice the china cabinet was one dessert plate short of a full set. Then Paul would have to fess up, and there was no way to spin the story to a positive light. No clever propaganda or cheery tone could change the fact that there was broken china in the waste bin.

Snapping back to the present, Paul looked down the first corridor flanked by small stalls, each with a green and white plastic awning. He’d been through this market countless times before, but each time he stepped into the cramped maze he found himself bewildered. He stopped for a minute in the middle of the aisle, trying to recall his surroundings.

“Watch it, mister!” a young lady had run into him from behind.

“Sorry, just trying to find some flowers,” Paul replied.

“Don’t stand here—stand there!” The lady tapped her foot and pointed to one side of the passage. She wore a faded red t-shirt, high-waisted jean shorts, striped leggings, and well-worn hiking boots.  She couldn’t have been more than 25. She stared at Paul for a moment, eyebrow raised. “Well, clearly you aren’t gonna find flowers anytime soon without some help. You’re as clueless a shopper as my dad.”

Paul just stood there, unsure of how to react.

“Hi, I’m Jen.” She grabbed Paul’s hand from its place at his side and shook it vigorously. She didn’t wait for a response. “Follow me,” she said and started walking down the aisle.

“What do you need flowers for?” Jen asked.

Paul realized how long it had been since he’d contributed to the conversation. “It’s a long story,” he said.

“Let me guess. You did something to upset your wife, and you’re bringing home flowers to lessen her anger.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as she deftly maneuvered through the market, taking a left and another quick right.

Paul gaped. “How did you know?”

“There’s only two reasons people buy flowers these days: funerals and apologies. And you aren’t wearing black.”

Paul was struck at the insight from such a young person. Jen couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. “You know, Jen?” He thought aloud. “It didn’t use to be that way. People used to bring home flowers not just for special occasions, but just because.”

“Ain’t that sweet,” Jen said with an air of indifference. She cared more about her striped leggings than she did some absurd nostalgia. “Well, here’s the flower shop, Paul.” She pointed ahead to the stall. Silver buckets lined the counter, tilted forward, filled with a garden of lilies and tulips. “See you around.” She left before Paul could even raise a hand and wave.

Paul bought a small bouquet of yellow tulips, six pounds, and headed toward the flat, toward apologies and disappointment, resolved not to break less china, but to buy more tulips.