An Unknocked-up Andreina

Ronald B. Tobias tells me the Adventure plot is up next. He informs me the difference between a quest and an adventure resides in the locations both within the character and without. So, this plot should stress physical plotting over mental plotting. And should probably occur in a different country at each point.

Theme – Love is a South American Adventure

Hook – A broken ticket scanner, a dyslexic airline employee, and our smart phone distracted hero, John, join forces to board flight 785 to Caracas, Venezuela instead of flight 758 to Houston, TX during the Christmas holiday.

Plot Point 1 – Once in Venezuela John falls in love with Andreina, the local woman helping him arrange travel back to the states, and decides to stay.

Pinch 1 – Andreina locates John’s ‘stolen’ wallet and ID.

Mid-point Twist – Because of some obscure American/Venezuelan emigration rule (that I’ll have to fabricate or find flimsy legal precedent for) John discovers that he will be forced to live in Venezuela for the rest of his life, never to return to the States.

Pinch 2 – While traveling along the beach and border with his new lover Andreina, John becomes separated and crosses into Guyana where he is arrested and not allowed to return to Venezuela, but may get deported to the States. (dunno)

Lull – Cooling his heels in jail, John accepts his situation and tries to enjoy the recent past as if it were a fleeting dream.

Plot Point 2 – John overhears evil guards joking about Andreina being pregnant.

Conclusion – With a combination of broken Spanish and a smattering of newly learned Portuguese, John convinces the pilot of the plane taking him from Port Kaituma back to a direct flight out of Georgetown to go to Caracas instead. Once on the ground he flees the plane, finds an unknocked-up Andreina, and lives happily ever after.

314 words on day 640

Taking a Stab at This

Let me just start this off with, “Crap!”

In fairness I should share that I’ll be using plot architypes found in my copy of Writer’s Digest Book’s “20 Master Plots” in times of need.

First up, quest plot…

Theme – Doing the right thing.

Hook – Under the bleachers at a HS basketball game our hero, Janet, nabs a rival girl’s cell phone.

Plot Point 1 – Discovering the cell phone didn’t belong to the rival girl, but was stolen by her, Janet figures that an enemy of an enemy is a friend and decides to locate the owner and return the phone.

Pinch 1 – The battery on the phone goes dead or the owner locks it remotely and she’s left only with the few slim clues she gathered exploring the phone.

Mid-point Twist – It turns out that the enemy of the enemy was yet another enemy, so Janet balks at returning the phone after all.

Pinch 2 – The phone is stolen back by the original thief.

Lull – Janet serves detention for the first time in her life. She’s more dejected about getting punished for trying to do the right thing than she is ‘dooing the time’.

Plot Point 2 – Rival girl dupes the original owner into thinking Janet had stolen the phone from the beginning and that rival is in fact doing the right thing.

Conclusion – Janet (some how) convinces the owner of the truth.

Not as questy as I’d originally intended. Not convinced I’ve upped the stakes at each point. Not sure I’ve communicated what the stakes even are though I think they imply fairly well.

283 words on day 639

Time Bags II

Last night I thought I’d carry over the writing I began then to the writing I’d do today. I’ll spare you.

“Ah, shit, Martin. I just texted you,” Jesse said. He shook his head.

Martin stood up from a folding chair behind a glass display counter. The display edged the undecorated room in a horseshoe of paraphernalia: expensive cleaning kits near the register, Oklahoma’s biggest selection of rolling papers next, classic upright glassware—as they carefully described it—after that, then pipes, bowls, and finally hookahs back around to the right. Boxes of cheap lighters bridged each counter to counter seam every five feet. Jesse, the owner, joked that this frequency was in case a customer knew he needed a light but didn’t have the attention span to remember the fact all the way back to the register.

The only adornment hung to the right of the door where new patrons saw it for the first time as they left and regulars did too. Martin took the poster in trade for a simple upright his first week of work seven or so months ago. Six naked women facing away from the camera sitting poolside at a porn palace in the California hills. Pink Floyd album covers airbrushed on to their sinuous backs. Wish You Were Here with her red curls and hint of a chin was Martin’s favorite. Welcome to Time Bags II.

“What? Why?” Martin asked as he maneuvered his way around boxed stock on the floor behind the displays to his phone by the register. Martin unconsciously tightened the black watch cap on his skull. The navy blue jacket he wore like a coat rack lent him more substance than he truly possessed. Under that jacket a double layer of tee shirts kept him warm since Jesse wouldn’t let the heater go higher than 68 in the winter. Those worn shirts’ collars hung limply to reveal part of a message tattooed across Martin’s pale chest. Because the ink had faded and because the font had been Gothic everyone assumed it was a Bible verse. In fact, it read “Only the good die young,” and it was attributed to Shakespeare.

Martin flipped the phone open. “What the Hell, Jesse? I’m fired. What the fuck, man?”

383 words on day 628