Valerie Woods

• OPENING SCENE - Introduces antagonist, setting, tone, and a foreshadows the primary conflict.

I’ve gone over it thousands of times. I was neglected and abandoned along with my six siblings. The emotional imprint from absence of mothering is permanent. It is a scar and no matter how it fades or is explained away, when it is imperceptible and only the tiniest dot unseen by the human eye, it is there. And I will feel it forever.

Christmas Day, 1965. After the mayhem of gift opening and shuffling through heaps of wrapping paper, we learned from our father that my six siblings and I were to get dressed and head out of the house to visit with our maternal grandmother. Kids! Get dressed like I told you over an hour ago. Larry! If I hear one more of those damned Beatles songs instead of the sound of your feet marching down the stairs, well, you don’t wanna know, ok?  You are supposed to be there at noon. That’s now for Chrissake. I’ll have dinner ready by five. 

It had been a long time since we went to Grandma’s, possibly a year. We weren’t allowed to since Mom left. We had written letters to her at unfamiliar addresses provided by Grandma over the last two years. And now she was just a couple of blocks away. We picked up our pace to defy the bitter cold and its power over us. We marched, huddled together through the fresh snow swirling and mingling with the soot from the thousands of furnaces burning in this coal mining town.

I thought about when we walked out of the house. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table smoking his Pall Malls and shaking his foot as he always did when he was thinking. Turning the corner on to Grandma’s street, I couldn’t help thinking about Dad and that the sooner we got this visit over, the sooner we would be back and getting the table ready for probably one of his big pasta dinners, hopefully his meatballs soaked in the darkest red sauce and pasta. Maybe some garlic bread.

We arrived at the old Victorian house with a flurry. Grandma pulled us in the house with more verve than I’d seen in her for a long time. Off came our coats and gloves. She smoothed down my dress and straightened my eyeglasses for me. Now, that’s better, Val honey. You wanna look nice today don’t you?. Don’t just stand there, now. Get in the kitchen and see everyone. But I didn’t want to see everyone. I wanted to sit in the corner in Grandpap’s big chair and wait til we would head back home to Dad. 

That's where I stayed, wishing I had brought my Christmas doll with me. The mysterious “creature” that had bounded in and out of our lives was approaching. Her beauty never did made me feel happy. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Other mothers weren’t like her. Her beauty was formal, not soft and affectionate. She had become a stranger to me. Dad had begun warning me about the hazards of getting in a car with my own mother which I hadn't really thought much about until today.

I stared down at my thin white socks and hand-me-down black patent leather shoes. The "creature’s" long legs stood in front of me. Her shoes had a new bought shine and her hosiery was sheer and silky. When I looked upwards I saw that her hair seemed to match the dark brown flecks in her wool jacket and matching skirt. There was a Christmas pin on the collar with a red that matched her lipstick. I noticed a man’s pressed slacks and clean brown shoes before me. He was smiling down at me. Mom touched my arm. “This is Jeffrey.  He’s been wanting to meet you”. His eyes were a soft blue and his face seemed calm but confident. In a deep and melodious voice, he spoke. Hello Valerie. I’ve heard so many things about you! How is your Christmas so far? I felt myself blush. 

            Grandma had come back into the room and made the strangest announcement. We would all be going out to Howard Johnson’s for ice cream and to get our coats on. I pulled back into the safety of Grandpap’s chair waiting to see if it was all a big joke. Later, after all of us got into the big station wagon and we passed the third Howard Johnson's on Route 40, I looked at my two older sisters sharing a conspiratorial glance. Mom hadn't looked at me since we all got in the car. That's when I knew.

 

 

FIRST ASSIGNMENT: write your story statement. 

In her memoir, Valerie Woods tells her story of the scarred childhood she and her six siblings endured and has kept hidden for most of her life. Their beautiful but disturbed mother, Patricia (Patty) will go to any lengths to garner attention and love from the theater world and its strangers hidden within, placing her children in various and difficult stages of homelife and mostly neglect. Hope arrives when Patricia brings home famous actor, Jeffrey Lynn whose long burning desire for a warm family life lure him into marriage to melodramatic Patricia. Jeffrey begins to play father to her seven children until Patricia sees beyond more than even he can provide. Her uncontrollable and recurring desires toss the children from a small coal mining town to the suburbs in Connecticut to Los Angeles in the late 60’s. Carrying the wounds of childhood emotional neglect, Valerie begins to fight her own demons until she finds a light at the end of the tunnel.

 

 

SECOND ASSIGNMENT: in 200 words or less, sketch the antagonist or antagonistic force in your story. Keep in mind their goals, their background, and the ways they react to the world about them.

 

            Patricia D is the second daughter of western PA couple, Charlie D and his wife, Leona.  As Patricia develops into a bright and beautiful young woman, she finds herself longing to be part of every school production her high school stages. A bright girl, Patricia has no problem excelling in all her classes, but it is the dramatic world she dreams of in her room and in the local movie theaters downtown.

            During her senior year, Patricia applies to a prestigious dramatic academy and is accepted. The dilemma for her life is that in between stage roles, her yearning for attention creates a vulnerability to Larry, an older boy just out of college. Their passions take control and Patricia finds herself pregnant. Her hopes of the acting school are dashed as she and Larry must marry and set up a home to welcome the new infant. Larry’s intense attraction to Patricia results in six more children. 

            Her repressed dreams and desires begin to break through as Larry finds himself home with the children at night, while Patricia begins her desperate pursuit of all she has been denied.

 

3. THIRD ASSIGNMENT: create a breakout title (list several options, not more than three, and revisit to edit as needed).

 

            Family, Stage Left

 

            And Along Came Mother

 

            

 

 

4. Fourth Assignment (read article) then—Develop two smart comparables for your novel. This is a good opportunity to immerse yourself in your chosen genre. Who compares to you? And why?

            Lit, by Mary Karr – Mary Karr tells the story of her abusive family life and her own demons and addictions with honesty and grit. I only aspire to write as well, but I believe the depth of neglect and pain in her family life have a somewhat similar complexion to mine.

 

            The Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion – I find Joan Didion’s writing soothing, as if I’m reading a kindred spirit. If I can write even a fraction as beautifully, well, that won’t happen but I hope that my work will have glimmers inspired by her. She writes about an difficult time in her life with the eyes and ears of a poet in the body of a journalist, allowing ideas to float out and then come back.

 

 

 

 FIFTH ASSIGNMENT: write your own hook line (logline) with conflict and core wound following the format above. Though you may not have one now, keep in mind this is a great developmental tool. In other words, you best begin focusing on this if you're serious about commercial publication.

 

 

         A young girl struggles to make sense of a world rocked by prolonged upheaval and neglect by her beautiful but psychologically damaged actress mother.

 

             SIXTH ASSIGNMENT: sketch out the conditions for the inner conflict your protagonist will have. Why will they feel in turmoil? Conflicted? Anxious? Sketch out one hypothetical scenario in the story wherein this would be the case--consider the trigger and the reaction. 

I’ve gone over it thousands of times. I was neglected and abandoned along with my six siblings, with no understanding of what childhood could and should be. Any sense of understanding as to why our mother did what she did is obliterated by the fact that the emotional imprint from absence of mothering is permanent. It is a scar and no matter how it fades, even when it is imperceptible and only the tiniest dot, barely seen by the human eye, it is there. And I will feel it forever.

            

 Next, likewise sketch a hypothetical scenario for the "secondary conflict" involving the social environment. Will this involve family? Friends? Associates? What is the nature of it?

I withdrew from the throng and sat on Grandpa’s chair in the corner, wishing I had brought my Christmas doll with me. The “creature” that was my mother and whom had bounced in and out of our lives was approaching. Her beauty never made me happy. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Other mothers weren’t like her. She had a posture that seemed formal and even her smile seemed posed. Like a stranger. Dad and his child bride had begun warning me about the hazards of being with my mother, as if something bad could happen. Their words rang in my ears as she stood before me.

 

 

 FINAL ASSIGNMENT: sketch out your setting in detail. What makes it interesting enough, scene by scene, to allow for uniqueness and cinema in your narrative and story? Please don't simply repeat what you already have which may well be too quiet. You can change it. That's why you're here! Start now. Imagination is your best friend, and be aggressive with it.

 

            The gray soot from the Christmas day chimneys floated by us and mingled with falling crystals of snow as we marched the four blocks from Dad’s house to Grandma’s. I had never been outside our house on Christmas day. We were supposed to be in our pajamas for most of the day, playing with new toys and fighting over who was sentenced to clean up of all the torn and crinkled holiday paper which strewn about the living room floor. After Dad shoveled some coal into the furnace, he would have been starting the meatballs and sauce. A day long project which would be simmering for hours and which was liquid gold to us. Each of us would tear a piece of bread to dip into it and gobble down in secret, or so we thought. “Kids, not another piece or you all go to your rooms!” Dad would yell from the living room as we dispersed in different directions. But today, we were walking in the snow and it didn’t feel right.