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Good Narrative Principles

February 11, 2014
by Lee Eiferman
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Dead IMG_4613winter. It’s that time of year when the rhythm of daily life is reduced to a series of petty annoyances each carrying the weight of lead. For Charlie it begins with his morning walk, when his companion in life, Shirley the mutt, becomes a rabid dog. She brings the same level of crazy intensity to each perceived threat, be it a child, poodle or Audi. Charlie loves Shirley, loves being outside with her. If he moved deep into the woods, life with Shirley might be perfect. Then there’s his morning and evening commute. His equally rabid clients expect instant answers and so Charlie, even though he knows that it’s dangerous and against the law, sneaks in a text whenever the traffic slows. Commuters blare their horns at him as they tear pass, roll down their windows, shout obscenities as Charlie hits send. At work, the Office Manager, in an effort to save money, has switched from his favorite blond roast to a cheaper brand. The taste of bitter burnt beans coats his tongue as he manages one crisis after another. His only respite is at night. With Shirley at his side, Charlie defends his title of Grand Master against premiere players from around the globe. Online no one knows that Charlie texts when he drives or loves a dog who radiates hostility.

December 10, 2013
by Lee Eiferman
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Parent/Teacher Conference

IMG_4175Let’s talk about summer school, the sweet fifth grade teacher said to Brett’s Mom during their parent teacher conference. Brett’s Mom sat up straighter. But instead of listening, she became mesmerized by the thick, fat, wet flakes blanketing the cars in the parking lot, including her ailing Toyota. Thinking about the Toyota slipping on the icy roads got Brett’s Mom going in a decidedly anxious direction. She stood up mid-sentence, indicating to the sweet teacher that the interview was over. By the time the teacher extended her hand for a quick handshake, Brett’s Mom was already out the door. On the highway, she had to pull over twice to regain her composure as the outline of her escape plan solidified. Always a fan of the big gesture, Brett’s Mom rolled down her window and sang into the icy air “Cali-for-nia here I come.”  The snow swirled inside the car. Snowflakes danced in the warm eddies. She stuck out her tongue to catch a stray flake. Then the memory of naming her son and the promise of competence it suggested, that Brett would be a man of the world, caught her short.  On an exhale, Brett’s Mom rolled up the window and turned on the radio to check road conditions.