Reworking A Story That Was Submitted To A Challenge

Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter — What if? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers prompts —

The Exercise -

Take a story you have completed and go through it and intensify the conflict, magnifying the tension and shrillness at every turn, even to the point of absurdity or hyperbole. Add stress wherever possible, both between characters and within them as individuals. Exaggerate the obstacles they face. Be extreme.

The Objective -

To create an awareness of the need for a high level of tension while encouraging a healthy regard for how easily it can become excessive. This exercise is not meant to "improve" the story, although it often provokes new and more dynamic descriptions and dialogue. It raises the writer's consciousness about the need for conflict in fiction.

We were friends in high school, living parallel lives... At least, I thought that we had parallel lives. I didn't know he was out with my girlfriend every chance he got, I didn't know he stole more than my girl from me, I didn't know he was a big goof off and would cheat by copying my homework!

We got married, had children, and went to college. We partied in college, and I couldn't go every weekend like him, and he would call me names, like pussy, and I didn't know he was out on weekdays, too. It was definitely a struggle at times, with my own stuff and then helping him out every semester.

Well, maybe it is more correct to say that he stopped taking the drugs and drinking alcohol. He told me he still goes out and parties without the drugs and alcohol. It sounds like he is into wife swapping and wanted to know if I was interested. Wow, I couldn't believe it.

I thought He was my best drinking buddy. I had no idea. How does that work? I didn't drink like him ever, and I hardly ever drink now. I attributed that time in my life to college.

No. I didn't drink like him. I thought he was fun, drunk or sober - dumb me! Was he sober? He did drink once, I thought in junior high school. He totally had me fooled. And I had no idea he was using drugs all the time either, until he fessed up.

We hadn't seen each other in a while and decided to get coffee at the place down the street from me. I couldn't wait to get out of there. I didn't know what to say. I felt totally shocked by his story of drugs and alcohol. He said he thought I knew. I knew next to nothing.

I thought he owned the company he worked at. What a liar. His wife owns the majority of the company, and she was going to get a divorce and buy him out. That was a weird way to tell me he was looking at a divorce before he quit drinking. How can I believe him, even now?

Now, even When he stopped partying and wanted to make amends, he put so much of that on me. That was a nightmare. He told me all the things he had done and expected to be forgiven. He made my life more miserable at the time than I could ever know, and now he wants forgiveness.

Well, no, he said, the amends were for him. He was cleaning his side of the street. I didn't have to accept his amends, it was up to me. Well, good because I am not accepting his bullshit.

As I walked away from the coffee shop, it occurred to me just how different life can be, even when you think you are living parallel lives to a buddy from high school, it is not that way at all.

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Author's Note: The highlighted parts are from the story I had written before. The new words may be a more real interaction between the two.