It’s time to talk about my next story. This gem got its start from a set I made on Polyvore. This one, to be exact. I don’t really remember all of how it led to the story, but I recall being inspired by the ‘personality’ that sort of came through the look. It started with picturing a teenage girl wearing it. And then that she was waiting at a bus stop, impatient to go. I saw her as having a nervous habit of playing with the necklace, which was had sentimental value to her.
With that, a story started being written. And it later became what I have up and write about today, which is to aptly named "Waiting for the Bus."
There isn’t really much to it. It’s basically the girl’s (who I have not named) internal monologue and observations as she, well, waits for the bus.
The inspiration for the story’s setting come from living in this part-time-tundra-in-disguise*, the lovely US state that is Minnesota. I think I wrote it during one of our signature winters, adding to the idea of being in a cold place. It’s set before winter, though, when it has begun to get cold. Often here, we’ll start cooling off slowly, and then it drops-off by 20*F or so degrees overnight. And then it keeps dropping, until about the time that is pretty much called Spring-Should-Be-Here-Now-Where-Is-It. It is then when everything starts to thaw. (Granted, this isn’t how it always is, but it’s a pretty good average I think.)
Now, most of us who are originally from here, or have been here for a long enough time, can handle these changes fairly well, especially if we are able to prepare for it. However, there are also those who aren’t original from here, and either they haven’t been here long enough to be used to it yet, or they are just passing through and not expecting it. The narrator in “Waiting” is one of the former, in that she just moved there and is not accustom to it. It doesn’t help that she moved here from the southwestern US, specifically a particular part that doesn’t get nearly as cold as we do. So it’s a shock to her system, and she’s hating it with passion. And that the only thing between her bare arms and the cold air is a single sweater isn’t helping, either.
Speaking of the sweater, I’m really surprised by how much I described her outfit, the one in the set. I don’t remember doing that, but I rather like it.
This isn’t my most favorite story I’ve ever written. This is especially because most of the time when I’d think of, the narrator seemed like she was ‘whiny’ to me. I think I may have even felt this while writing it. But now reading it again, I’m not certain why that is. It’s actually one of my better stories, I think, especially from that point in time (three years ago). She isn’t too annoying, and seems more understandable. Although I’m wondering if that’s such a good thing...if I didn’t like her then, what’s making me like her now? Is this a good or a bad thing?
And again, I shall cut myself off here, before I go off on a tangent. That’s not what I mean to write here. I only want to write things about the story. And I have, as much as I could think up for now. So with that, I’ll end it here.
Farewell for now.
~ S
*Note: I do realize that none of the state of Minnesota is actually in a tundra biome. It’s just that often during winter, we feel like we might as well be there, and joking like that is pretty much a way we deal with it.
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