Today I present two versions of one story, told in different styles.
This effort is inspired by the great
and his ongoing series entitled “Experiments in style.” where he takes a short sample story and reworks it in a different style or genre. This one is a great example:If you’re not familiar with Terry, you should check him out. His Substack is full of interesting observations on language and life and some of them are quite hilarious . Plus, he’s British so, you know, smart.
Anyway, this is my attempt, starting with a standard prose version:
Make Something Up- Short Fiction
When you live in Weare and a beautiful woman at the hotel bar asks you where you’re from, you can say, “Right.”
When she asks you if it’s cold up there you can say, “Only for seven months of the year.”
When she asks you what brings you to Phoenix, you can either say “Delta Airlines,” or you can make something up. And if you’re going to make something up, it will to have to be good to impress a classy looking woman like Lorraine.
“I’m an attorney,” I said.
“Oh, an attorney! And you have business in Phoenix?”
“Yes, I’m here to meet with a client who’s being extradited to Manchester.”
“Manchester England?”
“New Hampshire.”
“What did the guy do?”
“I can’t really discuss it,” I said. “What about you? Do you live in Phoenix?”
“No, I’m here from Tampa for a medical conference. I’ll be here until Friday.”
I wondered how she made the word Friday sound sexy.
“I take it you’re a doctor?”
“Hmm? Oh yes,” she said. “Vince, please watch that the bartender doesn’t take my drink while I run to the restroom? I’ll just be a minute.”
Lorraine looked even better walking away. I picked up my phone to Google: Top five law schools. I didn’t feel good about starting off with a lie but I knew she wouldn’t be interested in a millwork carpenter from the granite state, just here to clean out his late step-father’s storage unit.
“So, which law school did you attend?,” she asked as she settled herself back on the barstool.
“Columbia.”
“Oh, Ivy League, that’s very impressive. And how did you like the big city?”
I wished that I had made note of which city Columbia was in. I was beginning to feel a bit sheepish but I couldn’t give up the charade at this point. “Oh, it was fine,” I said. “Mostly kept to myself— studying most of the time. How about you? What’s your school?”
“Duke,” she answered.
“Go Blue Devils,” I said.
“Blue what?”
“You went to Duke and you don’t know the Blue Devils?”
Lorraine looked down at her drink as she swirled the mostly-melted ice cubes. After a few moments, she said, “Vince, I have a confession to make.”
“Me first,” I said.
Now, here is the same story retold in the form of a poem. I believe this type of poetry is called “Alternate Rhyme” but I could be wrong.
Make Something Up- Poem
In a bid to charm a young beauty I joke of the climate in Weare I tell her it's cold for a while and proceeds to get colder from there When she asks me what brings me to Phoenix I struggle for ways to impress her An attorney, I say with a client who's set to return in all haste to Manchester Never mind the offense, it's not for discussion That's something that lawyers can't speak Now enough about me, let's talk about you will you be here in Phoenix all week? She's here for a medical conference leaving on Friday, she winks She tells me that she is a doctor "Be a dear and look after my drink?" With just a few moments to Google I search for prestigious law schools She inquires of my Alma mater as she wiggles back onto the stool Despite my dislike of deception the truth of my life wouldn't rock her Why tell her that I'm on a mission to clean out poor step-dads old locker? Columbia, how very impressive Ivy League, the big city as well Had I only made note of which city I'd have made up some stories to tell When in turn I ask the same question without hesitation it's Duke But she's blank when I mention Blue Devils and I'm guessing it's not just a fluke In an instant, mood changes to pensive as she swirls the ice-melt in her drink I'm sensing a deeper connection and it feels like we stand on the brink She says, I have something to tell you I imagine you'll think me the worst but I've never set foot in old Durham There I ask her to stop. "I'll go first."
This certainly was a fun exercise and I feel like it was a good way to stretch myself a little bit. Please let me know what you think of these two versions.
A lovely story, Jim. The deceptions we go through at times because the truth seems so tepid. Nicely done, I really enjoyed how they both were making things up and the fact that you left it at that. We, the readers in the shadows, can now peer through the gaps in the floorboards of our imaginations, to see what happens next. Me, I think they hit it off.
And yes, I've read Terry. He's full of interesting and wonderful ideas and suggestions.
"I wondered how she made the word Friday sound sexy." "Lorraine looked even better walking away." Love this . It sounds so Robert Parker-esque. Something Jesse Stone would say. Made me laugh. Superb ending, "Me first." Hah! Your poem almost reads like a limerick. Mr Freedman will be astounded that you have taken his tutelage seriously! Great job, Jim!