Punching walls is pretty stupid (voice of experience). But it's much more strongly destructive, and the violence isn't directed at the other person physically. So, not sure if that's the sort of thing you're after.

I remember Nic slowly losing his temper with his insane ex Annie, as she picked and picked and picked, and watching him suddenly turn and slam a half-formed patty of ground beef into the wall. Not at her, or near her; it was pure frustration.

Trust me, it was not remotely comical.

For new challenge:

Glastonbury

My first sense of this place is its size: it feels simply enormous.

I expected that, of course; from the outside, the Abbey Barn is imposing. But the soaring heights of the ceiling, the terrifying solidity of the oak-crucked supports, the endless sense that something is moving just beyond the edges of waking vision, leave me wanting to stand very still, so as not to disturn what might wait in those blurred corners.

Glastonbury Abbey is haunted ground. I wonder if this place is haunted, as well, and so a book is seeded, and left fallow, to grow over time.

Another...

Erica Road

I'm helped out of the van and, enraged, I propel the wheelchair up the steep path to the side door, through an evening fragrant with night-blooming plants and eucalyptus. It's an assault on the senses: stars pock the great overhead and spill down onto my broken legs.

I peer through the sliding doors into a filthy kitchen. He's curled up, drunk. Inside, where I'm going, are his wife and her lover and the lover's dog. They're about to feel my wrath.

It's my first time here, my first sight of this house from hell, and I never want to leave.

I messed around with that section I asked everyone about earlier ( KristinT "The Great Write Way" Nov 28, 2004 5:14:29 pm PST ). Here's where I ended up:

Just days before they graduated, I asked them to write a letter to themselves that I would never see. They could write about anything: how it felt to be graduating, what they wanted in their futures, where they thought they’d be in a few years. They could have friends write them notes, include pictures, or even fold a couple of bucks into the envelope. I gave them suggestions, but what they chose to include, or not to include, was their secret.

Even my most reluctant students became uncharacteristically excited when they turned in their envelopes, usually decorated with stickers or puffy pink lettering or ominous warnings of “From your past! Beware!” scribbled on the back. They wondered out loud where they would be when it arrived. They asked to hear again about the student who returned to tell me he’d received his letter in the Persian Gulf where he was serving in the military, and they joked that they were in big trouble if their parents opened their letter by mistake. The day they handed in their letters was always festive.

The last step was for them to jot a year on the back of the envelope—any within the next five—seal it, and give the letter to me to be stored in a special desk drawer, unopened, until that New Year’s Eve. I loved the connection I felt to my former students as I flipped through the envelopes each January. I loved the unexpected memories provoked by their handwriting, and I loved imagining the kind of adults those 18-year-olds had become.

Opening the drawer today was different.

I added a little context that I felt I needed, cut a bunch out, and reorganized for clarity. What do you think? Did it work?

Also, on the second question ( KristinT "The Great Write Way" Nov 28, 2004 5:32:26 pm PST ), I decided on this:

There were as many possibilities for the blankness as there were paths he could have taken.

Someday, I will actually finish this damn thing.

I added a little context that I felt I needed, cut a bunch out, and reorganized for clarity. What do you think? Did it work?

It rocks, Kristin. It not only kept all the necessary information, it made it a lot more colorful. I don't even miss whatever you cut out. I can't tell what's not there anymore. Supermegaimprovement all around, I say.

Kristin, I love the way the paragraphs flow now. I can't pick out exactly what you did, but it's both clearer and more concise.

Deb, those two are breath-stopping, especially the second.

And to the wall-slamming thing? I had posters hung in some odd places where my hormonally-overcharged teenaged sons punched holes in the wallboard.

Kristin, yesyesyes. More light shining on those kids, but without a drop of sentiment.

After whining and procrastinating all day, I finally sat down to write around 8:00. And wrote eight pages in three hours. It felt especially good because I looked at the last three pages I'd written in Alabama, laboriously, at one page per hour, and realized they were utter crap. And then I realized how to fix them and move on from there.

Yay Susan!

Thank you for the earlier affirmation, everyone. It was needed to allow me to push on through tonight...

I too achieved something this evening. Final revisions are in. Essay is done. I would like to post, but I think it's too long. How many words can each of these little boxy thingys hold? Is it worth posting the whole thing, or would it be better to simple send out to anyone who's interested? I just need a final "attagirl" to make me feel accomplished, especially since I tried (and failed) to go to sleep three times in the last couple of hours and now only have three hours until the alarm goes off. Anyone? Bueller?

t /high maintenance girl

How many words can each of these little boxy thingys hold?

Kristin, I threadsucked BBaBB and found:

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Gus "Buffistas Building a Better Board" Sep 2, 2004 6:00:56 am PDT
t snip
eta: The members of an autosplit post have an additional expansion allowance of 2000 characters for edits, at which point they will be truncated (max 6000).
t /snip
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That's characters, not words.