Stories are life. Read some, write some, be some.
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Posted on Thursday, May 10, 2012 1:41 PM
I wrote on the htp:// www.oneword.com word of the day again today. I think it turned out well. I wrote:
These things that they do, I can’t understand them. They eat with their fingers, they take food from each others’ plates. I don’t think they know what napkins are for. I just do my best to eat, to have enough peace to digest, but it’s difficult, living with such primitives. Children aren’t what I thought they’d be.
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Posted on Wednesday, March 14, 2012 4:38 PM
I've been going to a class called Practice, Practice, Practice at ArtEastin Issaquah, Just for fun, I'm going to post a poetic piece I wrote from a prompt we got in class that only said, "If we ran into each other one day, what would you ask me?" I immediately pictured a couple of high school friends who hadn't talked in years.
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Are you still, did you ever,
Oh how to say it? What about him? What did you do about him? Oh, I know it's none of my business, but I was there, too. |
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Posted on Tuesday, February 08, 2011 10:08 PM
Here's an entry I wrote for 6S-- the site where you write a stroy in six sentences. They're not all strictly stories -- this one of mine is more of an observation. Or several, really. Scissors are a pair and they are knives, bottom line, knives that work in sync to cut things. Paper, chicken, twine, yarn. You can cut your fingers with them, too, but not as easily as you can cut your fingers with knives. Most people would say that knives are the more dangerous. But I’m not so sure. With scissors the illusion of safety might work against you. |
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Posted on Monday, February 07, 2011 3:41 PM
There's a site I've linked to elsewhere on my site that I really like. It's called oneword. They give you one word, and you write whatever that word sparks you to write for one minute. WHen the time is up, you tidy up your typos if you need to (I always need to) and post it on the site if you want to. The word today was "alarm." Here's what I wrote: The alarm screamed through the entire building, waking anyone who might have been asleep on the job. It was so loud that some might have even wet their pants. Cynthia ran like hell around the corner, slapping the lock overrides as she went so that the others could get out. She didn't want anyone to burn, no matter what they'd done to deserve it. |
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