Monday, 16 August 2010

Short short story competition

I’ve agreed to help publicize DBA Lehane’s competition, which is to help publicize his website. I don’t normally do much to publicize anything. Perhaps I just want to show you my own entry. I’ve never written a short story before, never mind a short short one. It is exactly 500 words and the title had to begin with the letters DBA.

I don’t have the imagination to write anything but the truth, which is what you find in A Wayfarer’s Notes, however much I like to pretend it is fiction. The story which follows is based on true components.

Here is the link to Lehane’s site.

And here is my entry to that competition.

Don’t be abashed

This tale is true. Well, most of it. I can’t vouch for the part of it that I got from someone else. So judge for yourself.

I’d dropped out from counsellor training. My private life was chaotic at the time. One day I bumped into one of my fellow-students, now qualified and practising in Cambridgeshire. We caught up on one another’s progress in my favourite pub, The Falcon. He told me about his first client, rather near the boundary of confidentiality rules. This young woman had entered adulthood caring for a disabled mother, who couldn’t be left alone long. She spent her days reading romantic fiction. Her outings were few: just to a couple of local shops, such as the sub-post office where she collected her mother’s disability payments.

“So what did she come to you about?” I asked him.

“She was referred by her doctor. He was concerned about her delusions.”

“?”

“That she was about to meet her hero, who would sweep her off her feet. ”

“Not uncommon, surely. What was she doing about it?”

“Well, nothing. They had an elderly dog, a little lame. She always took it with her when she went out. Which meant she couldn’t go far.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, that was the thing: I don’t know. She only came for one session. She was painfully shy, blushed easily. I tried to suggest various ways she could meet men, but she resisted them all. She wouldn’t listen, burst into tears. I felt as if I’d accused her of being ugly, which she wasn’t. Quite the reverse. She left the session less happy than she’d come in. Imagine how I felt.”

“So . . .?”

“She didn’t turn up for her second appointment. I felt bad. She was my first client. Suppose I’d pushed her over the edge? I rang her. She was fine! An angel had spoken to her in a dream, saying ‘Don’t be abashed’, meaning that she’d definitely meet her ideal lover. I said, ‘If you listen to angels and not me, why come back?’ She saw my point. I wrote to her doctor and closed the case.”

Why did I remember the conversation? Was it the word “abashed”, which you don’t hear often? Or was it my concern whether I’d been a good listener to my counsellor friend?

Months later, I was looking up another friend, in Cottenham, Cambridgeshire, but got lost. I pulled up outside a shop with a Post Office sign. A dog sat patiently outside. I went in and got the directions I needed. As I came out, a woman with downcast eyes collected the dog. They walked off, slowly, the dog limping.

My heart started to beat fast. I knew what I wanted to do: check out if this might be my friend’s ex-client. But a bashfulness prevented me. Confidentiality. The young woman’s feelings. Something within me said “Don’t be abashed.” I must have said it aloud, for she turned. Looked at me. Her eyes shone.

21 Comments:

At 16 August 2010 at 23:18 , Anonymous keiko amano said...

Vincent,

I enjoyed reading your short story and the following sentence made me laugh: I felt as if I’d accused her of being ugly. Please write more.

 
At 17 August 2010 at 03:10 , Anonymous Ashok said...

That is a lovely story indeed!

 
At 17 August 2010 at 03:28 , Anonymous Nelson said...

Keiko, I can't write more. The story length must not exceed 500 words! Anything not said is mystery to the reader, who remains responsible for interpretation.

Thanks Ashok. My next post will pick up a theme of yours.

 
At 17 August 2010 at 05:04 , Anonymous DBA Lehane said...

Thanks for the plug Vincent! And as much as I'd like to comment on the story itself I must maintain my mask of judge neutrality for now.

 
At 17 August 2010 at 07:19 , Anonymous keiko amano said...

Vincent,

I meant more short short stories, not to add more pages to your existing story.

 
At 17 August 2010 at 07:23 , Anonymous Nelson said...

Yes, neutrality is good! As for the text, I sent you a version impetuously the other day, leaving several months before Judgement Day to be dissatisfied and fiddle with it. Or as they say in the trade, "edit". As it is, the version here differs in several minor respects from the one I submitted to you.

 
At 17 August 2010 at 07:30 , Anonymous Nelson said...

Ah, Keiko, I realised afterwards that you meant that. No, I don't think I can write more stories, other than true ones. This one just came to me, and is based on personal experiences.

 
At 17 August 2010 at 09:37 , Anonymous DBA Lehane said...

Vincent, feel free to send through an edited version if you want.

Also, I'd invited any of your readers to come and enter too!

 
At 17 August 2010 at 10:06 , Anonymous Nelson said...

Thanks Lehane, I was hoping you would let me send an edit. I'd better leave it till much later.

My readers are all very talented. I do hope they will take up your offer, and that one of them will win!

 
At 17 August 2010 at 11:15 , Anonymous ZACL said...

Delightful piece, if not a little worrying. I like the edge the concern gives. While the picture is 'hunkydory' a one-dimensional one that is tempting for a chocolate box exposition, I enjoy the element of life -even a delusional one - that your story springs into it.

Coming to think of it, Vincent, a one-dimensional chocolate box image could b in itself, a delusion!

 
At 17 August 2010 at 11:38 , Anonymous Nelson said...

ZACL, delusion or not, a one-dimensional chocolate box wouldn't hold much chocolate.

 
At 17 August 2010 at 15:57 , Anonymous ZACL said...

Ah,Vincent, I wasn't referring to three dimensional chocolates. The literary allusion is to the possible delusional quality of the 'chocolate box' style picture, not a literal and tangible chocolate or its container.

 
At 17 August 2010 at 16:15 , Anonymous Nelson said...

I know, but it was fun to imagine.

 
At 17 August 2010 at 18:50 , Anonymous ZACL said...

In the tangible 3-dimensional world, what would be your tipple in chocolates? :)

 
At 18 August 2010 at 13:10 , Anonymous ghetufool said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

 
At 18 August 2010 at 13:39 , Anonymous Nelson said...

Tipple in chocolates? You mean liqueurs? Or fillings generally? I like the Italian ones from Thorntons, in a large box with a snow scene on the top, with a white Labrador and red pillar-box.

You shouldn't be so generous, ZACL. I don't know if I could possibly accept. But I'll send you my address anyway!

 
At 18 August 2010 at 14:25 , Anonymous Rebb said...

Vincent, Your first short story, you say? Bravo! Enjoyed reading it—great dialogue.

 
At 18 August 2010 at 15:07 , Anonymous Nelson said...

ghetufool added a comment but withdrew it soon after, not wishing to influence the competition judge.

As ghetufool is my most valued critic, I shall add his comment back. Not only that, he is one of the world's greatest unpublished short story writers.

ah! i loved it. the protagonists, the shy girl and the patient listener can both be limited by this line:
“Well, nothing. They had an elderly dog, a little lame. She always took it with her when she went out. Which meant she couldn’t go far.”
your urge for redemption at the end is clearly showing in this excellent story and i could only say you need to write more.
the characters, three of them, have been portrayed vividly in a shoestring budget of words. the dog (though i would love to know what was he -- a labrador retriever perhaps? definitely not a small dog, cause he could have been carried, freeing the walker of any boundaries), or is that the dog is old and smells and that prevents the walker to carry him on her lap? oh! that girl needs to be alone then!
am i impressed? very much so ... only if i could have got some smell of the place in the story ...
i have no illusion as why you should continue to be my editor! thanks for tolerating me.

 
At 18 August 2010 at 15:13 , Anonymous Nelson said...

Ghetufool, I think the first story of yours that I read was about a dog. Anando stole a dog but his redemption came from its love. Despite what you said about competitions, I'd like to see if it can be reduced to 500 words and entered. You need do nothing, except give me permission.

 
At 21 August 2010 at 00:49 , Anonymous Luciana said...

Vincent, she must be dreaming about you. You gave a face to the love she did not allow herself to live in the real world. In a way you helped her. ;-)

I´d like to read more of your stories. It really doesn´t matter whether they´re fact or fiction. It´s the way you tell them that make them interesting.

Paul Auster has a book entitled True Tales of American Life, about true stories people would tell in a radio program he took part in.Really interesting!

 
At 21 August 2010 at 03:47 , Anonymous Nelson said...

Luciana, I'm especially grateful to you for the first sentence of your comment. The only way I could explain would be to write another story, one which is completely true, one which in fact I have already written (in the sense of committing to writing in obsessive detail, every single memory that I could drag up from deliberate oblivion.) But I wrote it before knowing how to write, as it were.

So what I would need to do now is let go the obsessive detail in order to tell the story for others and not just myself.

And it is about a girl with a dog . . .

 

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