Let'sjustgoovertihs1moretime (a recap).

OK, so the idea is for this whole screwing with the workshop process. At first, I was thinking about making two stories, thus dividing the class in half. Then, I went buck wild and thought about making 20 different 10-page stories. After writing four, and getting ideas for four or five more, I decided to limit it to either five or ten stories. After wasting a bunch of time revising the first four, I decided to just do five.

The part at the very beginning, before the title, on each sheet, is me, in the workshop, marveling over my idea. They all start the same for a reason. First, I wanted to make each first page the same, so they'd all look the same on the surface. I tried to make a beginning that would sound like a generic beginning to a story, but then it could meander away from that, thus making it useless. I talk about home, and my family, and they have little to no relevance to any of the stories whatsoever. Then, I break into scene. Taking a shit, writing the idea down and starting the writing process.

"Suddenly, a knock at his door swept Steven away from the story."

That's the line you read in each story before something crazy transpires. Every story gets interrupted by that knock. It's always 2:30 in the morning, he's always in his bedroom at his home in Tacoma. Which just so happens to be my home. I never use my last name, nor do I name any of my family members' names. It is very loosely based on my family, with a few concrete details from real life to give the illusion that it is they.

Story number one. My friend Chris. I do have a friend Chris from Tacoma. In it, I am swept away, into his car, for a very long ride and a very long story. It deals with gambling and drinking and cheating girlfriends. Then, near the end, when he parks the car finally, we discover a dead body in the back. I am forced into helping him dispose of the body. The story ends pretty abruptly. Two paragraphs conclude the story, after about ten pages in scene. Seven lines are all it takes. I go from having this amazing idea, to ending the story without a clue what to write about. In the final paragraph, it alludes to a "first story of the week."

Story number two. Bottle of Southern Comfort. Yes, I do love the drink mixed with Dr. Pepper. I'm not going to lie. I am not an alcoholic, however, and I have never been to AA. I decide to call my friend Megan, and yes I do have a friend named Megan, and yes, she does live with Bianca. Once again, it's 2:30 in the morning, and I'm interrupted in the writing process, this time by an alcohol bottle sitting mysteriously outside of my door. I make the phone call, and Bianca fills us in on my drinking habit. She's going to come and rescue me. After I hang up, there's another knock. This is designed by the fact that I combined this alcohol story with another one. The person at the door is my Uncle Stephen. Yes, evidently I did have an Uncle Stephen, and yes he did die, by some train accident. I don't really know a whole lot of details. Anyway, I cut out the whole Uncle Stephen history, and made him my alcoholic future. We talk for a while, and I clue him in on my alcohol problem, what drove me to this point in my life. Some's true, some's not. Dad is not an alcoholic, mom does see one. By the end of that section, I realize that he is my future self, all fucked up and strung out, though I didn't portray that as well as I could have. Then, it shifts back. I've been drinking the whole time. Uncle Stephen was a hallucination. After all, he was reading my thoughts. Bianca comes in and kicks my ass around and takes me back to school. Yet again, I end the story abruptly, with two paragraphs. I think I took it out, but I was supposed to be finishing my "second" story. In the end, I reach for another bottle of alcohol, hidden in the ol' sock drawer.

Story number three. By this one, I'm supposed to be desperate for a story to be finished. The knock at the door turns out to be a kidnapper, someone who comes to take me hostage. In the scene at the beginning, I have a brief conversation with my brother. He doesn't come off well. The kidnapper, Carl, gives me one wish. One thing I can do before I die. After contemplating, I decide I want to write something great, something to get me published, even in death fame is good. The first thing I write is a "revisionist life story." Grow up poor, make it big at an early age, stuff dreams are made of. This one's in first person. Then, I realize that's shit. I meditate for a while, but all I can come up with after that is a brief porno scene. I scratch that idea right off. Don't want to go down that road. This one is in third person. After that, I get right to my third story. Second person perspective. Depicting a dying cancer patient wishing for more in his life. This goes from eating shitty foods, to more sinister ideas of mass murder, and then, just one. Then, I'm depicting Carl from the second perspective. "Carl" is the second person perspective cancer patient. It ends with the gun at his victim's (Steven's) head. Like the first two stories, this one has a two-paragraph conclusion. He saves that last story, the second person perspective story, and titles it "Final Story Number 3." Steven's ready to meet his fate, since he has met his deadline. But, Carl's not there. He was a figment of Steven's imagination, just like his "Uncle." Only this time, his hallucination was not a distraction, but a source of inspiration.

Story number four. This one starts the same as the rest. Knock at the door. This one begins more absurdly, though, with the Sonics' mascot busting in through the door and out through the window. But, this entire beginning was just a writing sample of Konstantin's. Yes, he is my friend, yes he does live on the floor. No, he is not a writer. Konstantin is a hack. A career failure. Before we get too far into his life, we're dragged back out, once again. Konstantin, who wrote about Steven and Sasquatch, is a character in a story by Steven, who is in his dorm room now. Konstantin is his friend, and he knows about Steven writing the story. Konstantin is always giving advice and complaining about how his character is portrayed. For the sake of sanity, forget about the first section, it's irrelevant. It's just there to show a bad writer's inability to write well. Then, we return to Steven's story, where he's writing about his friend Konstantin setting up his own sort of deadline. He plunges a knife into his stomach, and is forced to finish one of his better stories, which happens to be running long. He does, but he dies. We end with Steven and Konstantin fighting over the ending. Kon didn't want to be killed off. This story ends with a one-paragraph conclusion, three lines to wrap it up. He ends with the prophetic words, "I really need to stop putting myself in stories."

Story number five. The knocking? That's happening in the dorms. I'm being woken up from a wonderful dream after drinking the night before. Is everything before this point a dream? All four stories previous? I couldn't say. I'm waking up in this one, and I'm going to school to turn in my single story for workshopping. I had the idea in the dream for the multiple stories to turn in, but I forgot in the waking up process. Everything's in scene. Walking to school. Talking about my story. Thinking about "that girl." In class, writing notes to myself. Muddling through the first half hour of class. Finally getting the courage to leave by the beginning of page eight. Killed off in the next paragraph, one very very very long sentence. The end, the scene is spiraling outward, in fact, it has its own title. From the crack in my brain to the inevitably forgetting of my death. It spirals out in both scene and time. Thus, the series ends. Me dead, never to be in another story again, as per my dying wishes.