Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is (one of) the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Curated by Denise, attended by over ten thousand Readers and, on average, twenty-six contributing writers.
Prompt word:
ETERNAL
The day waited, with desiccated patience, for the man to accept that his eyes were open.
His surroundings, familiar in a way that reassured, even as anxiety gathered, was the expected empty bedroom; like a newspaper left in a car’s rear window for a week, his hope for an eternal and consistent sense-of-self was deprived of the certainty of contrast; ‘you’d never’ became ‘maybe’ and ‘not possible’, a new undefined section of an expanded map.
The man decided to try and get a cup of coffee, (or something), so, with the methodical confidence of the long-indentured, he first visualized the trip to the kitchen in the next room; upon standing he was buoyed by the fact that, other than the feeling he was wearing socks made of foam rubber, proceeded from the bed towards the door to the kitchen.
The apartment was cold, all the lights were on and the sun threw a harsh rectangle across the top of the gas-on-gas stove; on the rare evenings he wasn’t alone at home, he would point to the refrigerator immediately next to it as a perfect example of the cast-iron irony of an unimaginative landlord.
As the man repositioned himself in bed, instant coffee an undeniable, if not somewhat pyrrhic a victory over the enemy that his remaining friends tiredly whispered warnings, he heard the sound of running water coming from the closed-door bathroom.
As the door to the bathroom creaked open, the phone next to his bed rang.
About clarkscottroger
Nice phrases: “cast-iron irony” and “desiccated patience”. Since “his remaining friends” appear to be fewer than they once were I wonder who’s in the bathroom and on the phone? .
exactly! (thank you for the desired response to my set up)
love the cast iron metaphor you’re good
TY, yo, TY
Metaphors Whisperer!
Mysteries abound.
Well, Mr Clark, I thought about commenting seriously on this piece, in particular on sentences 3 and 5, before realising that isn’t the point of these comments.
I liked sentence 6.
Thank you (where thanks are the appropriate response).
Not that you asked, but my own view of commentation is certainly the same but different.
To begin with the converse (or opposite or whatever the right word is): a serious comment is one in which a Reader ‘writes a note to the Writer’. As such, it’s an acknowledgement of having read the story and ‘enjoyed’ it.
The word ‘enjoyed’ is where, imo, things become interesting. For me, the exercise of reading Sixes manifests itself both as a Reader and a student (of the craft*). The matter of constructive criticism (of the story/technique/etc) is where matters, again imo, gets tricky.
As a practice, I tend to try to avoid a ‘Do you not think this might be a better approach to achieving that effect’ or ‘that made me feel this, not surely the intended effect’ if only because of the inherently clunky-stuttering-‘I-did-put-that-in-italics-you-missed-my-spin-to-the-phrase’ nature of the Comment/Reply medium of exchange.
It should not come as much surprise, a small group (Denise and Nick/Spira and yours truly) have, of late been experimenting with a livestream (real time conversation/discussion on Sunday afternoons. The core attraction of being live is I get to interrupt in real time as opposed to thoughtfully constructing a comprehensive answer to Comments that arouse my curiosity.
(you should stop by sometime)
*can’t bring myself to capitalize the word, more out of self-consciousness than modesty, lol
Having you interrupt in real time does not strike me as a great ‘core attraction’, my good sir!
Here’s an interesting thing. I decided to reply, with humorous ambition, in a manner quite elaborate and time intensive. However, the ‘joke’ requiring ‘over-writing/editing’ your Comment.
(Basically, through an application of html, I would ‘interrupt’ your Comment in a graphic and quite, if I say so myself, funny manner, i.e. strike through the words from ‘great to my’ and superimpose my Reply.
(damn! I still like the joke)
But the curious, if not interesting thing, was when I was done, and despite the fact that anyone reading it would get the joke, the key to the joke was that it was imposed on your Comment. And that’s what made me not do it. Not that this surprises me, as we here at the Doctrine have a certain sensitivity about attribution and privacy and such.
In event, thank you. This little episode allowed me the privilege to benefit from an insight into my virtual presence in the blogosphere that was entirely constructive.
If I don’t understand what your story ‘means’ and I don’t understand your views on ‘commentation’ and if it takes a week to walk a fortnight to work out how many apples are in a pound of grapes and … damn, I had a point in there somewhere. ;-)
Hey Doug! Thanks?
(hold on… gotta read the post again*)
* lol (… where, no, why did I mention apples…. shit! there’s gots to be a rationale to that Six!**)
Hey, do a brother a solid and loan me a point?
And, don’t tell him, but your bro ceayr almost got me with the take-away in his comment… i.e. “I thought about commenting seriously on this piece, in particular on sentences 3 and 5, before realising that isn’t the point of these comments.”
I was this close to writing a DM on his blog, but came to my senses…people who communicate that way are expected to present a level of considered, coherent thought that I was all…”nah! better not write off-brand”
Probably safest to assume the underlying logic to Sixes from the Doctrine is: one half automatic writing, one half free association and one third word-saladizing***
** Extra! Extra!! Read all about it!!! Syntax Spill at the Wakefield Doctrine Mass Rhetorical Casualties!!!
*** not a ‘real’ word
Doug, that was my point too!
Thank you, btw.
The idea of the livestream is to permit the one thing the internet does not… direct interaction. Not that there’s anything wrong with the point-counterpoint of a Comment thread. But, speaking only for myself, the community that, when you’re lucky, comes into being in a bloghop is nearly the whole point. (And, not in the constrained sense of friendships as manifested in the ‘real’ world, where there is an unavoidable homogeneity, in interests, if not in temperament. These Comment threads (and the raison d’être for our metaphorical hangout the Six Sentence Café & Bistro) allow an interaction less likely in conventional social interaction.
(Lily gilding: “Oh man! that guy over that table is such a weird introvert. Why does he have to come here, this is our place”. Barman: “Drinks for you and your two friends, courtesy of the gentleman in the corner.)
You got me at the first line “The day waited, with desiccated patience, for the man to accept that his eyes were open”. Just when I thought time and tide wait for no man. You do know how to turn a phrase.
Thank you, Len
So now who’s in the bathroom?
hopefully someone good
I see a picture of a lonely man in a lonely house beginning to lose touch with reality in his depression. And then the horror for him of the phone ringing and the bathroom door creaking open… Chilling tale, Clark.
I put it down to his drinking, Jenne!
If there is, at heart, a major difference, I would be surprised.
Thank you jenne.
(don’t tell them I still enjoy their comments and such… talk about roses and thorns!) lol