Late Afternoon, Wednesday, August 14, 2024, Madison, New Hampshire
Hi again, dear readers. I’m still tired from another night of uneasy sleep, so I haven’t been able to write any new material for my novel Reunion: Coda. I took my usual R&R break an hour behind schedule, but even after having lunch and going out for a quick walk on Huttwil Drive, I still felt unable to get into the world of Jim, Marty, Mark, Maddie, and the supporting cast of my work-in-progress.
I’m not in the mood to write about life in New Hampshire today, so instead here’s another exercise I did – without even realizing – from How to Write a Romance, or How to Write Witty Dialogue, Smoldering Love Scenes & Happily-Ever-Afters.
Write a scene in which two female characters are having a conversation…that is not about a man!
I bought How to Write a Romance, or How to Write Witty Dialogue, Smoldering Love Scenes & Happily-Ever-Afters a while back. I remember seeing this prompt when I flipped through the book, but I never gave it a shot. I thought it was too hard to imagine Jim, my narrator/protagonist, eavesdropping on women chatting, unless maybe at his job in Columbia University’s History Department. It seemed out of character for him, so I skipped it.
This morning, I stumbled upon the prompt again while searching for a writing exercise to use with my Reunion Duology characters. At first, I brushed it off, thinking it either had to be work-related or nothing.
In one of those rare “Aha!” moments that hit me when writing seems almost impossible, I suddenly remembered I’d already written a scene perfect for the prompt.
Here it is!
The bell’s chime is a quaint herald of my arrival into Vintage Mornings. The shop, nestled between Gutenberg’s Hangout and Kushner’s Deli, is a cozy time capsule on Bleecker Street. As I step in, I’m greeted by the sight of a 1940s RCA radio, its silence guarded behind glass, marked ‘NOT FOR SALE’. The air is filled with the scent of old books, leather, and nostalgia. The walls are adorned with pinups, old calendars, and the occasional WWII poster, creating a collage of history and beauty.
Cameron stands behind the counter, with her blonde hair meticulously styled and blue eyes that match the clarity of her organized mind. She’s the epitome of business casual in her jeans and Mets sweatshirt, which she wears with an elegance that’s almost out of place among the antiques. Her smile is warm and welcoming, a contrast to the coolness of the glass cases that display jewelry, watches, and other delicate items.
Jerry, her contrast in every way, sports black hair styled like Betty Paige, a hint of rebellion in the curl of her bangs. Her easy-going vibe is accentuated by her attire, dressed neatly but with a comfort that suggests she’s at home among the relics of the past. Her eyes sparkle with mischief and curiosity, darting from one shelf to another, always on the lookout for a hidden treasure.
Their debate over the hottest pin-up is in full swing, with Cameron championing Rita Hayworth’s timeless allure, gesturing towards the sultry 1941 pin-up that hangs behind the counter. “Rita’s elegance is unmatched,” she asserts, “She’s the epitome of glamour.”
Jerry scoffs, pointing to Veronica Lake’s image with her peek-a-boo hairstyle. “Please, Veronica’s mysterious charm is legendary. That hair alone has more allure than all of Rita’s glam shots.”
“Morning,” I say, interrupting their playful squabble. “I’m looking for a breakfast tray.”
Cameron points with a manicured finger. “Aisle Four. We have some lovely vintage options.”
Jerry chimes in, her voice a warm note. “Try Aisle Five, sweetheart. That’s where we keep the gems.”
Turns out, the magic is in Aisle Six. Amidst a collection of brass candlesticks and vinyl records, I find the trays—perfectly retro, just like the store. They are made of wood, metal, or plastic, with colorful patterns and designs that evoke the charm of the past. Some have handles, some have legs, some have both. I pick out two that catch my eye, one with a floral motif and one with a geometric one.
Jerry sidles up to me, her grin infectious. “So, this lady friend of yours,” she teases, “is she as stunning as Rita or as mysterious as Veronica?”
I nod, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “Yeah, she’s… she’s something else.”
“And what does she do?” Jerry leans against the shelf, genuinely curious.
“She plays piano for the New York Philharmonic,” I mention, and Jerry’s eyes brighten.
A Certain Point of View, Too 
You must be logged in to post a comment.