Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Fans' Point of View 3 . . . Bethany

Now for a point of view taken from a different book. Bethany has (like I asked) provided both the original scene from DJ's point of view from OLYMPIC DREAMS by Lauraine Snelling, and then given us the scene from Amy's POV. This is such good writing practice, and I love to see how well you readers are doing.



Setting the scene: DJ (Darla Jean) has an idea for how to make some money for her horse fund. She has not yet explained it to her friend, Amy, who is chomping at the bit to find about about this idea. . .


 From the book:

“Pony rides at birthday parties!”
“What in the world are you are you talking about? We don't even have a pony.”
“You want to hear more or not?”
“Dumb question. What are you dreaming up now?”
“You know I need money to buy a horse. You also know we need to exercise Bandit. Right?”
“Yeah, his family almost never comes.” Amy turned the hose back on for a drink.
“And you like to take pictures.”
“I don't just take pictures. I'm a photographer.” The glint in her eye warned DJ to tread lightly. “Or will be someday.”
“Your family just got a new Polaroid camera, right?” Teasing Amy like this was a privilege given only to best friends.
Amy flicked the hose, sending drops of water at DJ. “If you don't get to the point, you'll get soaked.”
“Do I have to draw you a map?” DJ ducked but her T-shirt darkened with wet blotches anyway.
“All right, come on.” DJ sank down o a concrete block against the barn wall and patted the block beside her. “Sit.”
Once they were both leaning elbows on knees, she turned so she could watch Amy's face. “The way I see it, we both want and need money this summer—me for a horse, and you for film, so . . .” She paused for dramatic effect. 
“So we ask the McDougalls if we can use Bandit to entertain kids at birthday parties. The kids get to ride a pony we lead, have their pictures taken in a Western hat on the pony and the adult in charge pays us. See, with the Polaroid they can take their pictures home with them.” By the end of her speech, DJ bounced up from her block and began pacing in front of Amy, arms waving for emphasis.
She stopped. Planted her hands of her hips. Waited. “Well?”
“I'm thinking.”
“I can tell.” DJ started to say something else but caught herself. Amy always needed thinking time.
“We don't have a pony, a hat, customers, or a camera. We've never done anything like this. How do we let people know about it?” She closed her eyes as if to concentrate better. “And . . . how much would we charge?”
With the final question, DJ knew Amy planned to go along with the idea.
“Super, huh?”
“Yeah, if we can work it all out. I'll ask my dad about using the camera. Maybe he'll have some suggestions for us.”
“And I'll ask Bridget* for the McDougalls' phone number and call them. My mom knows a lot about selling stuff, so I'll—” she stopped her pacing to point to Amy—“we'll talk to her together. That way she won't think that this is another of my 'harebrained schemes'—her words.”
“You gotta admit you've come up with some wild ones.”
“It wasn't my fault the Great Dane got away. How was I to know he didn't understand leash laws?”
“What about breeding hamsters?”
“So they chewed a whole in their box. That guy with the snake was glad to take the ones that didn't get away.”
“Snails?”
“They said the restaurants would pay thirty-five cents each. Anyway, the book said to feed them cornmeal; I thought they'd like it.”
“Yeah, well, they liked your grandmother's garden garden better.”
“That was still a good idea. If we ever do it again, I figured out how to make a box even a snail couldn't escape.”
“And what about selling greeting cards?”
DJ sank down on the block. “So we've tried different stuff. We did make some money selling fruit and vegetables door to door.”
“Sure, after your grandma grounded us for a week for picking her strawberries without asking.”
“I thought she was done making jam.”
“Well, one thing we've learned—or at least I've learned—you've got to think things through. Ask lots of questions. This time we don't just jump in and  . . .”
“I could draw a real neat cartoon for some fliers. We could use it on invitations and . . .”
Amy shook both her head and her friend.
But DJ was off and running. Like a filly with the bit in her teeth she took off toward the office. “I'll talk to Bridget right now,” . . .

*Bridget is the owner of the riding academy where DJ and Amy worked who boards Bandit.

 From Amy's point of view:

“Pony rides at birthday parties!” DJ exclaimed
“What in the world are you are you talking about? We don't even have a pony.”
“You want to hear more or not?”
“Dumb question. What are you dreaming up now?” I sighed thinking of all the trouble that I might be getting myself into.
“You know I need money to buy a horse. You also know we need to exercise Bandit. Right?”
“Yeah, his family almost never comes.” I turned the hose back on for a drink. I figured that it might come in handy if DJ keeps dragging her explanation out.
“And you like to take pictures.”
“I don't just take pictures. I'm a photographer.” My glare warned DJ to watch her step. When someone starts messing with me, they had better watch it, “Or will be someday.”
“Your family just got a new Polaroid camera, right?” I knew that at this point DJ was just dragging this out to agitate me.
I flicked the hose, sending drops of water at DJ. “If you don't get to the point, you'll get soaked.”
“Do I have to draw you a map?” DJ ducked but I still was able to drench her. Of course, it probably felt pretty good considering the temperature.
“All right, come on.” DJ sank down o a concrete block against the barn wall and patted the block beside her. “Sit.”
Once they were both leaning elbows on knees, DJ turned to face me. “The way I see it, we both want and need money this summer—me for a horse, and you for film, so . . .” She paused and I leaned in. “So we ask the McDougalls if we can use Bandit to entertain kids at birthday parties. The kids get to ride a pony we lead, have their pictures taken in a Western hat on the pony and the adult in charge pays us. See, with the Polaroid they can take their pictures home with them.”
By the end of her speech, DJ bounced up from her block and began pacing in front of me, arms waving for emphasis. When she finally stopped pacing she planted her hands on her hips and stared down at me, making it difficult for me to consider the offer.
“Well?” DJ asked.
Annoyed I answered, “I'm thinking.”
“I can tell.” DJ started to say something else but caught herself. She knew as well as I did that when I am considering something like this, I need to really think about it.
After a few minutes I voiced my concerns, “We don't have a pony, a hat, customers, or a camera. We've never done anything like this. How do we let people know about it?” I closed my eyes knowing that my next question would give DJ, who knew me way too well in times like this, a “yes I'm in.” “And . . . how much would we charge?”
“Super, huh?” she grinned.
“Yeah, if we can work it all out. I'll ask my dad about using the camera. Maybe he'll have some suggestions for us.”
“And I'll ask Bridget for the McDougalls' phone number and call them. My mom knows a lot about selling stuff, so I'll—” she stopped her pacing to point to me—“we'll talk to her together. That way she won't think that this is another of my 'harebrained schemes'—her words.”
“You gotta admit you've come up with some wild ones.” I thought remembering with a giggle.
“It wasn't my fault the Great Dane got away. How was I to know he didn't understand leash laws?” DJ protested my accusation.
“What about breeding hamsters?” I pushed harder.
“So they chewed a whole in their box. That guy with the snake was glad to take the ones that didn't get away.” DJ squirmed.
“Snails?” I ticked off my mental list of get-rich-quick schemes.
“They said the restaurants would pay thirty-five cents each. Anyway, the book said to feed them cornmeal; I thought they'd like it.”
“Yeah, well, they liked your grandmother's garden garden better.”
“That was still a good idea. If we ever do it again, I figured out how to make a box even a snail couldn't escape.”
“And what about selling greeting cards?” I continued.
DJ sank down on the block. “So we've tried different stuff. We did make some money selling fruit and vegetables door to door.”
“Sure, after your grandma grounded us for a week for picking her strawberries without asking.” I groaned. Would she ever get smart about this stuff?
“I thought she was done making jam.”
“Well, one thing we've learned—or at least I've learned—you've got to think things through. Ask lots of questions. This time we don't just jump in and  . . .”
“I could draw a real neat cartoon for some fliers. We could use it on invitations and . . .”
I shook both my head and DJ.
But DJ was off and running. Like a filly with the bit in her teeth she took off toward the office. “I'll talk to Bridget right now."
 

12 comments:

  1. Hey, that was pretty good! Amazing job! :D
    Keep up the great work Bethany! :)

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    1. Thanks, Megs! (Your story was super!)

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    2. You're welcome! :)
      Aw, thanks!

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  2. I know these books I have all of them there really good :-)

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    1. I love Lauraine Snelling! Have you read the Golden Filly series too?

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  3. Nice job, Bethany! I've borrowed a book form my friend by Lauraine Snelling, but I didn't remember the title...

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    1. Now I remember! It was "The Gift"!!!:)

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    2. Hmm, I'll have to read that! I hadn't heard of that one. :-)

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    3. It was good! It's a Christmas story!!!:)

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    4. I looove Christmas! I'm never ready for it to end!

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Let Andi know what you think!