So I haven't done a writing exercise in a while. I googled "creative writing exercise" and came across a page that suggests writing for ten minutes with three random words that you are supposed to put together.
I used The Random Word Generator and got:
how
preference
and experiencing
And here I go!
John was walking down the street when he realized he didn't know how he'd gotten there. It was drizzling. Not hard rain, nothing that would actually get him wet. He looked up and the moisture that had accumulated on his eybrows drizzled down his temples.
He knew his name was John. John Waldorf. He knew that he was an insurance salesman. He knew his life was very orderly. He could remember everything that had happened before three hours ago. But now he was experiencing something new.
This was freedom! He didn't have to worry about his wife at home, he could just walk the wet streets. Let his feet take him wherever they would. He noticed some people holding hands, huddling under an umbrella. He thought how tied down they seemed. Forced to hide under the proetection, when he could walk anywhere. There was no need for any restrictions.
But that thought suddenly frightened him. He'd never felt capable of ignoring the rules of society. He liked coming home to his wife and dinner on the table.
As he thought of these things he slowly came to grips with his preference for the confined life that made sense to him.
As he came up to a phone booth, he crammed himself in, escaping the rain. He found a dime in his pocket and dialed his wife.
"Honey, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. I'm on my way home now. Everything will be fine."
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
descriptions
So this was an exercise I did a while ago, but I'm pretty proud of it.
Here you go...
1.A circle:
A group of people are gathered, shoulder to shoulder, surrounding something out of sight. They wear robes, and are chanting in a low rumble, the words too muted to understand. They are so still, they resemble statues. The surrounding silence magnifies the intensity of their sound.
2. a spiral staircase
The stairway leads upwards to more bookshelves. The banister is wrought iron, the color of charcoal, and very dusty, as though no one had touched it in a century. The steps were similarly untouched, but underneath the layer of dust lay marble steps, concave in the center from endless use.
3. Classical music
The low tones of Brahms fourth symphony lulled me, leaving my mind to wander when suddenly, time stopped. It was as though the music had taken the hand of the clock, and kept it from moving forward…
4.the color red
Her dress was the most intriguing of all. It was a red that couldn’t be placed in one category, being reminiscent of a soft rosebud, not yet ready to bloom, and at the same time, a river of blood after a great battle. And yet, although it was unusual, it matched the shade of her lips and the tint of her cheek exactly.
5. hot soup
The smell drove him wild, a mixture of garlic and comfort. As he looked in the bowl, he saw nothing but the deep golden amber, as though it were in a bottomless bowl. As he dipped in his spoon and let the liquid stream into it, he anticipated the warmth, and dreaded what memories it would recall in him.
6.rain
The drops fell as if in slow motion. Each one making a cacophonous sound as it landed on his shoulder, head, palms. He lifted his head to the clouds, and opened his mouth, letting the sweet drops fall in, but they seemed to avoid him, scared to end their existence in the storm.
7.the smell of a barbeque.
As they passed, she couldn’t help breathing in deeper and deeper. How long had it been? A year? More? And the sweet and tangy smell called to her like a siren. Her logic left her, and all she wanted was Rockland’s.
8.cold weather
So this is why people say the cold is bitter. Every time the wind blows in my direction, I find myself making the same face I made the first time I tried Compari…what a mistake that was!
9.a pillow
As they hugged goodbye, her pillow got caught between them. The air rushed out of it, and they hugged for the first time as if they weren’t skin and bones.
10. a hot cup of coffee
As she tasted the sample, the sweetness and the hint of blueberry were unexpected. She wondered where the beans were from, and how long they had been roasted. She took another sip and stopped caring. All she wanted was the caffeine.
11.the welcoming bark of a dog.
And there goes Xena. You can tell it’s her because even though she’s a Portuguese, she tends to bark like a Doberman. That’s what happens when a puppy spends too much time with another breed. They start thinking that’s what they are too…
12. wood/plastic/velvet/cotton
What an odd piece of furniture, she thought. The legs were carved cherry, and reminded her of the feet on an old bathtub. The seat was rounded in all directions, as if it were silly putty kneaded into an approximation of a chair. Covering it was a cotton velvet that looked softer than it felt.
13. a bench
It looked lonely. There weren’t any other benches near by and it was off on it’s own, covered in fallen leaves. No one had used it in a long time. It suited his mood perfectly.
14. television
I don’t know what it is about it, but I love television. I love the stories. I love how I can take an hour out of my day and experience someone else’s life. It’s a magic wand that can transport me anywhere I’d like to go.
15. seedless grapes
The oval was black. I brought it to my nose and smelled it, but there wasn’t anything especially succulent about the scent. When I put it in my mouth, I was annoyed by the bitterness, but then, as I sank my teeth in slowly, searching for the seed, the juice rolled over my tongue and to the back of my throat. It was marvelous. And then I realized that my teeth had reconnected. Where was the seed?
16.being nauseous (this was me making fun of the woman who wrote the book. Being nauseous means that you make others feel nauseated. So that’s what I described…)
He couldn’t understand. Where was everyone running to? As he looked behind him, he found a second grader crying over a pool of vomit. “Please don’t, I don’t want to thow up again. Please, go away. You made me thow up!”
17.spilling a liquid
Time slowed down as the white crawled over the counter, seeking the edge. It seemed to have a mind of its own. She leapt for the nearest towel, but the milk kept moving toward the edge and over, running down the cabinet side, and pooling on the ground, where Mrs. Mew was licking happily.
18.kissing
Each kiss is different. Sometimes they’re gentle, sometimes rough, this one felt like two marshmallows dipped in hot chocolate and begging to be taken into my mouth.
19.
A pencil
It was comfortable in his hand. Rounded and wooden, he thought it strange that the most appealing thing for him, what made him truly love this pencil, was the orangey yellow color and the big bold black No. 2 written on the side.
20.a tornado
Everything was chaos, but all I could think about was the howling. I didn’t care that sometimes my feet left the ground; that seemed almost normal. It was the strange howling sound, not quite like anything I’d ever heard before. It was that sound that made me stop and turn around.
21. white wine.
She took a sip. Mmmmm. But why? Why did it make her think Mmmm? If only she’d actually paid attention at her wine tasting class. Instead she just gulped it down and ignored everything else. Let’s see. Sweet. But not that sweet. Tart. But not that tart. Fuck it. When in doubt, act like Meg Ryan: “It’s a bold wine, with a hint of sophistication, and not lacking in pretention.”
22.wet tears on your face.
As they hugged, his tears transferred to her cheek. It was a strange feeling, to have a tear slide down her cheek, without being the one who created them. She’d cried so many times in her life, but didn’t feel the need now. And she could see her lack of tears was tearing him up inside.
23. a brick
It was so heavy. He hadn’t expected that. Redish brown, yes. Covered in old mortar, yes. Heavy, well, yes, but not this heavy.
24. warm socks
As he grabbed the sock on the ground that matched the one in his hand he thought about how strange socks are. The one from the ground was cold, but the one from his hand was still warm from the dryer. It was soft, and the static was making the fuzz even fuzzier. He distractedly started to bring it up to his cheek, to caress the softness, until he realized Mariah was looking at him with The Look again. He brought the two socks together and folded the top of one over both of them and threw them with the other pairs.
25. perfume
Oh God. Where’s the old lady? Where is she? Aha! 7 o’clock, three seats back, near the backdoor exit of the bus. Why do old ladies always wear ten times as much perfume? I could feel the sneezes coming. As I started to take the deep breath before the first one, I silently cursed the day Chanel came up with the idea of No. 5.
26. fire
It’s alive. Well, sort of. I mean, it reacts to me. And it needs food and oxygen or it dies. And it’s got a defense mechanism. And the blue flames at the bottom near the wick, the ones that you almost can’t see, they’re so purple. I think that’s where the soul is. Which is why I refuse to put fires out. I’m not saying I’ll start them. Just that I believe it’s murder to put them out. What? You’re dad’s a fireman? Was a fireman? Oh…oh, I’m so sorry. Well, those fires can be put out. I mean, it’s justice. But they really should get a trial first. Wait, where are you going?
27.the grunt of a pig.
The pig made a noise and Roger jumped. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. Sort of a cross between a dog protecting it’s territory and flatulence.
28. rock n’ roll music.
The bass was so loud, it shook everything around her, including the floor and her teeth. She could feel it in her sternum, and it made her feel as if the music were coming from her soul rather than from two human sized speakers next to the DJ’s booth.
29. silk
She closed the door to the dressing room, and took the wedding gown off the hanger. As she lifted her bare foot into the pool of silk on the ground, she couldn’t help but wonder at the dress’s texture. As she pulled it up her thighs, it looked like a waterfall of cream cascading down her leg. The low light of the dressing room made it glow. She had never felt so angelic.
30. iron
He grabbed the handle and picked up the iron. It said it was on, but it didn’t seem like it to him. He brought his finger to the smooth metal surface, and immediately jerked it away. It was on.
Here you go...
1.A circle:
A group of people are gathered, shoulder to shoulder, surrounding something out of sight. They wear robes, and are chanting in a low rumble, the words too muted to understand. They are so still, they resemble statues. The surrounding silence magnifies the intensity of their sound.
2. a spiral staircase
The stairway leads upwards to more bookshelves. The banister is wrought iron, the color of charcoal, and very dusty, as though no one had touched it in a century. The steps were similarly untouched, but underneath the layer of dust lay marble steps, concave in the center from endless use.
3. Classical music
The low tones of Brahms fourth symphony lulled me, leaving my mind to wander when suddenly, time stopped. It was as though the music had taken the hand of the clock, and kept it from moving forward…
4.the color red
Her dress was the most intriguing of all. It was a red that couldn’t be placed in one category, being reminiscent of a soft rosebud, not yet ready to bloom, and at the same time, a river of blood after a great battle. And yet, although it was unusual, it matched the shade of her lips and the tint of her cheek exactly.
5. hot soup
The smell drove him wild, a mixture of garlic and comfort. As he looked in the bowl, he saw nothing but the deep golden amber, as though it were in a bottomless bowl. As he dipped in his spoon and let the liquid stream into it, he anticipated the warmth, and dreaded what memories it would recall in him.
6.rain
The drops fell as if in slow motion. Each one making a cacophonous sound as it landed on his shoulder, head, palms. He lifted his head to the clouds, and opened his mouth, letting the sweet drops fall in, but they seemed to avoid him, scared to end their existence in the storm.
7.the smell of a barbeque.
As they passed, she couldn’t help breathing in deeper and deeper. How long had it been? A year? More? And the sweet and tangy smell called to her like a siren. Her logic left her, and all she wanted was Rockland’s.
8.cold weather
So this is why people say the cold is bitter. Every time the wind blows in my direction, I find myself making the same face I made the first time I tried Compari…what a mistake that was!
9.a pillow
As they hugged goodbye, her pillow got caught between them. The air rushed out of it, and they hugged for the first time as if they weren’t skin and bones.
10. a hot cup of coffee
As she tasted the sample, the sweetness and the hint of blueberry were unexpected. She wondered where the beans were from, and how long they had been roasted. She took another sip and stopped caring. All she wanted was the caffeine.
11.the welcoming bark of a dog.
And there goes Xena. You can tell it’s her because even though she’s a Portuguese, she tends to bark like a Doberman. That’s what happens when a puppy spends too much time with another breed. They start thinking that’s what they are too…
12. wood/plastic/velvet/cotton
What an odd piece of furniture, she thought. The legs were carved cherry, and reminded her of the feet on an old bathtub. The seat was rounded in all directions, as if it were silly putty kneaded into an approximation of a chair. Covering it was a cotton velvet that looked softer than it felt.
13. a bench
It looked lonely. There weren’t any other benches near by and it was off on it’s own, covered in fallen leaves. No one had used it in a long time. It suited his mood perfectly.
14. television
I don’t know what it is about it, but I love television. I love the stories. I love how I can take an hour out of my day and experience someone else’s life. It’s a magic wand that can transport me anywhere I’d like to go.
15. seedless grapes
The oval was black. I brought it to my nose and smelled it, but there wasn’t anything especially succulent about the scent. When I put it in my mouth, I was annoyed by the bitterness, but then, as I sank my teeth in slowly, searching for the seed, the juice rolled over my tongue and to the back of my throat. It was marvelous. And then I realized that my teeth had reconnected. Where was the seed?
16.being nauseous (this was me making fun of the woman who wrote the book. Being nauseous means that you make others feel nauseated. So that’s what I described…)
He couldn’t understand. Where was everyone running to? As he looked behind him, he found a second grader crying over a pool of vomit. “Please don’t, I don’t want to thow up again. Please, go away. You made me thow up!”
17.spilling a liquid
Time slowed down as the white crawled over the counter, seeking the edge. It seemed to have a mind of its own. She leapt for the nearest towel, but the milk kept moving toward the edge and over, running down the cabinet side, and pooling on the ground, where Mrs. Mew was licking happily.
18.kissing
Each kiss is different. Sometimes they’re gentle, sometimes rough, this one felt like two marshmallows dipped in hot chocolate and begging to be taken into my mouth.
19.
A pencil
It was comfortable in his hand. Rounded and wooden, he thought it strange that the most appealing thing for him, what made him truly love this pencil, was the orangey yellow color and the big bold black No. 2 written on the side.
20.a tornado
Everything was chaos, but all I could think about was the howling. I didn’t care that sometimes my feet left the ground; that seemed almost normal. It was the strange howling sound, not quite like anything I’d ever heard before. It was that sound that made me stop and turn around.
21. white wine.
She took a sip. Mmmmm. But why? Why did it make her think Mmmm? If only she’d actually paid attention at her wine tasting class. Instead she just gulped it down and ignored everything else. Let’s see. Sweet. But not that sweet. Tart. But not that tart. Fuck it. When in doubt, act like Meg Ryan: “It’s a bold wine, with a hint of sophistication, and not lacking in pretention.”
22.wet tears on your face.
As they hugged, his tears transferred to her cheek. It was a strange feeling, to have a tear slide down her cheek, without being the one who created them. She’d cried so many times in her life, but didn’t feel the need now. And she could see her lack of tears was tearing him up inside.
23. a brick
It was so heavy. He hadn’t expected that. Redish brown, yes. Covered in old mortar, yes. Heavy, well, yes, but not this heavy.
24. warm socks
As he grabbed the sock on the ground that matched the one in his hand he thought about how strange socks are. The one from the ground was cold, but the one from his hand was still warm from the dryer. It was soft, and the static was making the fuzz even fuzzier. He distractedly started to bring it up to his cheek, to caress the softness, until he realized Mariah was looking at him with The Look again. He brought the two socks together and folded the top of one over both of them and threw them with the other pairs.
25. perfume
Oh God. Where’s the old lady? Where is she? Aha! 7 o’clock, three seats back, near the backdoor exit of the bus. Why do old ladies always wear ten times as much perfume? I could feel the sneezes coming. As I started to take the deep breath before the first one, I silently cursed the day Chanel came up with the idea of No. 5.
26. fire
It’s alive. Well, sort of. I mean, it reacts to me. And it needs food and oxygen or it dies. And it’s got a defense mechanism. And the blue flames at the bottom near the wick, the ones that you almost can’t see, they’re so purple. I think that’s where the soul is. Which is why I refuse to put fires out. I’m not saying I’ll start them. Just that I believe it’s murder to put them out. What? You’re dad’s a fireman? Was a fireman? Oh…oh, I’m so sorry. Well, those fires can be put out. I mean, it’s justice. But they really should get a trial first. Wait, where are you going?
27.the grunt of a pig.
The pig made a noise and Roger jumped. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. Sort of a cross between a dog protecting it’s territory and flatulence.
28. rock n’ roll music.
The bass was so loud, it shook everything around her, including the floor and her teeth. She could feel it in her sternum, and it made her feel as if the music were coming from her soul rather than from two human sized speakers next to the DJ’s booth.
29. silk
She closed the door to the dressing room, and took the wedding gown off the hanger. As she lifted her bare foot into the pool of silk on the ground, she couldn’t help but wonder at the dress’s texture. As she pulled it up her thighs, it looked like a waterfall of cream cascading down her leg. The low light of the dressing room made it glow. She had never felt so angelic.
30. iron
He grabbed the handle and picked up the iron. It said it was on, but it didn’t seem like it to him. He brought his finger to the smooth metal surface, and immediately jerked it away. It was on.
Writing Exercise
So I've decided to do NaNoWriMo this year. I've come up with a plot idea and now I'm just sort of biding my time until November rolls around.
In the mean time, I thought, why not do some writing exercises?
When I was in high school, Miss Blackstone (no that's not her real name, but it was what she had us call her) had us do fun writing exercises every Friday. Other than getting to read good books, it was the only redeaming quality of that horrid class that left me for years thinking I wasn't very smart when it came to books and literature. Stupid teacher...
Anyway, that got me to thinking that if it was fun then, it might be fun now, and while I don't actually remember any of the exercises she had us do, I figured there had to be something out there similar, so I went to Borders and found Caroline Sharp's A Writer's Workbook.
The exercises aren't quite as much fun, but they do seem to be useful, so from time to time I'll post an exercise.
Here goes!
This exercise is called Reviewer, and you're just supposed to review something, anything. I'm reading Dead until Dark, the first book in the Southern Vampire series by Charlaine Harris, which is the basis of HBO's new series True Blood (great series! but that's for another review...)
I also read Twilight this summer by Stephenie Meyer. She's a great writer, but as I started reading Dead until Dark, I noticed some things.
Both books are about Vampires in the present in a small town. Both books are love stories about a male Vampire and a human woman. In both books, one of those two characters can read people's minds. In both books, the telepath can NOT read the other characters mind. In both books, the woman has a second love interest (SPOILER ALERT) who can change into a canine of some variety. It's starting to get a little monotonous.
The thing is, both books were superbly written. The characters are thought out and rich with complexity. But I can't help feeling a little annoyed at Stephenie Meyer for taking so many aspects of Dead until Dark (which was written three years earlier). Unless, by some amazing coincidence, they both wrote such similar stories within a few years of each other...
Another thing I find so frustrating is that Twilight has become such a huge success, while the Southern Vampire series has not. Both were brilliantly written books. You'd think the one that came first and was actually written for an adult audience would be the more successful of the two. But here we are with Twilight the third highest selling book on Amazon and Dead until Dark ranked 111th, even with True Blood coming out.
Still, even with all this frustration with a repeating story, the part of me that loves new verisions of old tales (who doesn't love a Cinderella story?) enjoys being able to read something I already love with new twists and turns. It's reading Bridget Jones' Diary after reading Pride and Prejudice, or watching Clueless after watching Emma (don't know why I'm stuck with Jane Austen right now...). It's a treat.
I think part of my frustration is due to the number of times it's happened to me recently. Before reading this, I read a new book called The Magicians and Mrs. Quent, an historical novel that has magic in it. While I was hoping to find something familiar inside the covers (anyone who knows me well knows my obsession with Mairelon the Magician by Patricia C. Wrede, one of the best books I've read to date and tragically out of print), but rather than finding a new plot with similar devices, I found two of the most famous plots one after another: Pride and Prejudice, and Jane Eyre. It was incredibly frustrating. But I'll save that for the next review...
So basically it comes down to this: I would recommend both these books, but probably not together. The juxtaposition (thank you Miss Blackstone for teaching me the proper use of that wonderful word) of the two doesn't leave Twilight in the best light, when otherwise, it is utterly desrerving of the success it has had.
Love,
Alex
In the mean time, I thought, why not do some writing exercises?
When I was in high school, Miss Blackstone (no that's not her real name, but it was what she had us call her) had us do fun writing exercises every Friday. Other than getting to read good books, it was the only redeaming quality of that horrid class that left me for years thinking I wasn't very smart when it came to books and literature. Stupid teacher...
Anyway, that got me to thinking that if it was fun then, it might be fun now, and while I don't actually remember any of the exercises she had us do, I figured there had to be something out there similar, so I went to Borders and found Caroline Sharp's A Writer's Workbook.
The exercises aren't quite as much fun, but they do seem to be useful, so from time to time I'll post an exercise.
Here goes!
This exercise is called Reviewer, and you're just supposed to review something, anything. I'm reading Dead until Dark, the first book in the Southern Vampire series by Charlaine Harris, which is the basis of HBO's new series True Blood (great series! but that's for another review...)
I also read Twilight this summer by Stephenie Meyer. She's a great writer, but as I started reading Dead until Dark, I noticed some things.
Both books are about Vampires in the present in a small town. Both books are love stories about a male Vampire and a human woman. In both books, one of those two characters can read people's minds. In both books, the telepath can NOT read the other characters mind. In both books, the woman has a second love interest (SPOILER ALERT) who can change into a canine of some variety. It's starting to get a little monotonous.
The thing is, both books were superbly written. The characters are thought out and rich with complexity. But I can't help feeling a little annoyed at Stephenie Meyer for taking so many aspects of Dead until Dark (which was written three years earlier). Unless, by some amazing coincidence, they both wrote such similar stories within a few years of each other...
Another thing I find so frustrating is that Twilight has become such a huge success, while the Southern Vampire series has not. Both were brilliantly written books. You'd think the one that came first and was actually written for an adult audience would be the more successful of the two. But here we are with Twilight the third highest selling book on Amazon and Dead until Dark ranked 111th, even with True Blood coming out.
Still, even with all this frustration with a repeating story, the part of me that loves new verisions of old tales (who doesn't love a Cinderella story?) enjoys being able to read something I already love with new twists and turns. It's reading Bridget Jones' Diary after reading Pride and Prejudice, or watching Clueless after watching Emma (don't know why I'm stuck with Jane Austen right now...). It's a treat.
I think part of my frustration is due to the number of times it's happened to me recently. Before reading this, I read a new book called The Magicians and Mrs. Quent, an historical novel that has magic in it. While I was hoping to find something familiar inside the covers (anyone who knows me well knows my obsession with Mairelon the Magician by Patricia C. Wrede, one of the best books I've read to date and tragically out of print), but rather than finding a new plot with similar devices, I found two of the most famous plots one after another: Pride and Prejudice, and Jane Eyre. It was incredibly frustrating. But I'll save that for the next review...
So basically it comes down to this: I would recommend both these books, but probably not together. The juxtaposition (thank you Miss Blackstone for teaching me the proper use of that wonderful word) of the two doesn't leave Twilight in the best light, when otherwise, it is utterly desrerving of the success it has had.
Love,
Alex
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