 Short Stories: April 01, 2020 Issue [#10100] |
This week: Anne Frank Edited by: Leger~  
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The purpose of this newsletter is to help the Writing.com short story author hone their craft and improve their skills. Along with that I would like to inform, advocate, and create new, fresh ideas for the short story author. Write to me if you have an idea you would like presented.
This week's Short Story Editor
Leger~ |
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The Story of Anne Frank
Most of us know the story of Anne Frank and her diary. In the light of recent events and virus, I thought I'd mention her tenure in hiding was TWO YEARS. And yes, the family had evenings and Sundays to move around in their rooms, but they could never leave the building.
Sound familiar?
Her family was not the only one hiding in the building. Several other families also sheltered there. She wrote about finding some of the people in hiding with her family "insufferable". Only certain times of the day were they able to move around the rooms, cook and clean. Their schedule was determined by the times the people working below were out of the building. They relied on helpers doing shopping for them and it was during occupation, so food was often in shortage or the helper person could not get the food back to the families.
Deja vu?
Luckily we will not suffer the fate of those families as they were discovered and sent to concentration camps. In the end, Anne and her sister were sent to a camp where typhus swept through and killed 17,000 prisoners.
Otto, Anne's father survived interment at Auschwitz and returned to locate his family. Unfortunately, his wife also died in Auschwitz and the girls died in a different camp. In all of this, remember the initial account of their time in hiding came from Anne's diary. Anne recorded events and emotions in a little book that was rescued by her father's secretary after the German police arrested the Franks and others. The secretary gave the diary to Otto once she knew it could not be returned to Anne. Otto read the diary, which Anne had edited with the hopes of publishing it. Otto kept both versions of the diary and put them together to publish. It was first published in Germany and France in 1950, and after being rejected by several publishers, was first published in the United Kingdom in 1952. The first American edition, published in 1952 under the title Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl, was positively reviewed.
So while we are all in quarantine and feeling a little stifled, perhaps spend a little time to read about Anne and her plight. It might be a great educational moment for those homeschooling your children. And perhaps we should start writing about our plight and the insufferable people stuck inside with us. Perhaps we'll have a book to publish when this is over.
Write On, and be safe.
This month's question: What are you doing to stay occupied in quarantine? Send in your answer below!  Editors love feedback! |
Excerpt: Jacob entered the clearing, circled by redwood trees he knew so well. Like the young women he buried here, its beauty was always preserved. Now it would be tarnished with the gypsy hag. He frowned. Releasing a growl of disgust, he let go of the rope he had been pulling the old woman with, then pushed her causing her to fall to the ground with a heavy thud.
Excerpt: Worm’ole Baglump von Crumstone III thought back to the words his grandmother had spoken so long ago. Finger in the air and eyes searching the shadowed arch of the bridge above them, she had recited the ancient wisdom of the trollish seers.
Excerpt: He moves and kisses my mouth gently, "Morning, babe."
Then he heads for a shower. I remember when he used to shut off the alarm. We'd make love in perfect harmony. Those days are gon
Excerpt: I work for a search and rescue team in the Smokey Mountains as a part of the select "Amber squad" whose specialization in child search and rescue is often deployed throughout the warm months when tourism takes over the towns along the foothills. It's April 30th, 9:18 pm, weather is a balmy 69 degrees with a medium strength thunderstorm blowing through when dispatch contacts me at home. The missing person is a three-year-old Caucasian girl, three feet and approximately forty pounds, dressed in a bright, flowery dress. I hop out of my easy-chair and whistle for my K-9 partner, Deuce, who was more than likely snoozing under my bed, trying to hide from the thunder and rain drumming the aluminum roof overhead.
Excerpt: Jeremy Strauss stormed through the rain, the umbrella acting as a cocoon against the constant pelting from the torrential downpour. And through the handle, he felt touched as if he had just received a divine revelation like the whispering one hears from a dark room and it scared the bejesus out of him. The umbrella had a life of its own, a purpose, a mission.
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Excerpt: The armor-clad eight-foot warrior stood atop a steep hill. He overlooked the valley below filled with bodies that gave a putrid stench. Swords, staves and weapons of all kinds lay scattered all over the ground.
He removed his black rod iron helmet revealing a pair of dark, deep-set eyes that glistened with an evil beauty. His hair was raven black slicked back that hung to his shoulders.
He spoke out loud in a deep monotonous utterance. “Ah, where have you gone oh great man? It took a mere three days to smite your leaden armies and take your kingdom. I will find you.”
Excerpt: Friggin' corn. Endless golden acres roll by as the Greyhound draws me closer home. Mile after gut-tingling mile. Cornfields give way to pier and beam homes until the bus cruises into town. Closing my eyes, I take a shuddering breath: Maryville, population, 4064. Now, 4063. Mom. The master manipulator. Even in death, she still pulls my strings. Enough to drag me back to Hicksville, USA. Welcome freakin' home, Sally.
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Excerpt: My body burned with awareness—a fire ignited near my chest cavity, spreading underneath my skin. Chirruping of crickets and croaking of frogs filled my ears as I took a deep breath, inhaling damp spring. My tight throat made swallowing difficult. Until this moment, I’d felt sure, ready. Now, I sat trembling, wishing with all my heart Leighton could read my mind.
Excerpt: "The whole jungle is following it, we must, too," she told her ducklings. "King Lion hasn't announced a Shelter in Place rule for no reason, you know."
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This month's question: What are you doing to stay occupied in quarantine? Send in your answer below! Editors love feedback!
Last month's "Short Stories Newsletter (March 4, 2020)" question: Do you find it hard or easy to interject your personal experiences into stories?
bobturn sent: Do you find it hard or easy to interject your personal experiences into stories? ---> Easy peasy. Character-driven plots are littered with familiar first names (Tip: so easy to remember and keep consistent).
Merry_Mikey  replied: This is so, so true, Leger~. Like most of us, I suppose, I sometimes use bits and pieces of my own life experience in my work here at WDC. I know I haven't painted a true enough picture, when I receive a review with a comment like "I didn't really get, what you were trying to say there." It's hard to do.
Quick-Quill  said: Using people as characters is often easier than creating one. When I wanted a certain person in my novel Silent River I thought about the character Percy in The Green Mile. I used a few of his characteristics for that irritating character Nathan. My Main Character has a familial history of a man I know, but that's all that I used.
S  responds: Personal stories? Pretty easy, actually. But in too many years of writing too much, I don't know how many have been left untouched!
Paul  reveals: I find it quite easy for some things. Even for those things that at the time were so embarrassing I wanted to melt, it’s easy to turn it into a funny routine. It happened, get over it and use the juicy parts in a story. Nobody needs to know who it happened to.
For those times I’ve hurt someone with a word or a deed, I don’t like reliving them. I do though and include it, with apologies, because it’s cathartic to do that.
Thanks to everyone for your replies, it is much appreciated. |
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