100 things on writing #34 touching on memories
I was working on my scarred soldier story that went from short story to novella to being within striking distance of becoming a novel. I was thinking about the whole 'can I get those last few thousand words out of this without destroying the tension etc etc,' when I thought about the character and his mom yelling at him.
Somehow this brought up something I haven't thought about in years, if not a decade or more. My dad (and mom too, but mostly dad) screaming at me for a few hundred miles. I was going for my medical school interview at Temple University. We had been on the road while (Dad says it was half way there but I'm pretty damn sure if we were half way across PA, he'd never have turned around). Anyhow I realized I had forgotten some crucial paperwork. I think Mom asked me for it and I realized I had left it on my bed.
They screamed at me all the way back home (much later I would find out when interrupted my brother and the first time he ever rented porn, snort). I cried all the way home. I cried with them screaming all the way from Pittsburgh to Philly. Rather than just say, that was irresponsible or something, the screaming and ridicule went on for literally hours.
This was already the scariest day before of my life, my first medical school interview. I was so worked up, that I'll be honest, I don't even remember the interview. I have a vague recollection of my dad following me into the cadaver lab (mom wouldn't go). I didn't do anywhere near as good as I should have on the interview, probably because I was so damn upset by that point, not to mention terrified.
I got in conditionally then was bumped back when they cut the class size in half due to budget cuts (and frankly I think they had too many graduates to find residencies for. This was the later 1980s and everyone still wanted to be a doctor). I ended up going to another school.
Funny isn't it? How writing and putting your characters through hell, you can bring up your own hell? I could have easily done without that memory resurfacing. Of course, now it has me thinking about having a character deal with that sort of thing. Then again, Aaron, the vet with PTSD, in the above mentioned story does have this issue a couple of times.
I was working on my scarred soldier story that went from short story to novella to being within striking distance of becoming a novel. I was thinking about the whole 'can I get those last few thousand words out of this without destroying the tension etc etc,' when I thought about the character and his mom yelling at him.
Somehow this brought up something I haven't thought about in years, if not a decade or more. My dad (and mom too, but mostly dad) screaming at me for a few hundred miles. I was going for my medical school interview at Temple University. We had been on the road while (Dad says it was half way there but I'm pretty damn sure if we were half way across PA, he'd never have turned around). Anyhow I realized I had forgotten some crucial paperwork. I think Mom asked me for it and I realized I had left it on my bed.
They screamed at me all the way back home (much later I would find out when interrupted my brother and the first time he ever rented porn, snort). I cried all the way home. I cried with them screaming all the way from Pittsburgh to Philly. Rather than just say, that was irresponsible or something, the screaming and ridicule went on for literally hours.
This was already the scariest day before of my life, my first medical school interview. I was so worked up, that I'll be honest, I don't even remember the interview. I have a vague recollection of my dad following me into the cadaver lab (mom wouldn't go). I didn't do anywhere near as good as I should have on the interview, probably because I was so damn upset by that point, not to mention terrified.
I got in conditionally then was bumped back when they cut the class size in half due to budget cuts (and frankly I think they had too many graduates to find residencies for. This was the later 1980s and everyone still wanted to be a doctor). I ended up going to another school.
Funny isn't it? How writing and putting your characters through hell, you can bring up your own hell? I could have easily done without that memory resurfacing. Of course, now it has me thinking about having a character deal with that sort of thing. Then again, Aaron, the vet with PTSD, in the above mentioned story does have this issue a couple of times.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-11 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-11 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-11 09:40 pm (UTC)