The exercise:
Stealing (and tweaking slightly) a prompt from tonight's local writer's group meeting, your word to work with today is: again.
It's late and I'm tired, so I'll just share what I wrote at the meeting.
Between us, Kat and I got a lot of weeding, seeding, and yard work done today. Tomorrow we're back to the market prep before returning to the farmers market on Saturday morning.
Mine:
"Darn it, you've done it again!"
I brought my hand to stillness and breathed silently through my nostrils. My eyes blinked of their own accord as I searched for words of calm and reason.
When none came I resorted to my standard fallback plan: anger and confrontation.
"Done what again, exactly? Done what you've told me you wanted me to do? Followed your every instruction, no matter how insane it may have been? Please, do tell: what have I done wrong?"
"Don't you take that tone of voice with me, young man! Didn't your mother ever teach you to respect your elders?"
"My mother taught me plenty. How to stand up for myself. How to speak my mind, how to know when enough is enough."
"So what, are you quitting on me, is that it?"
"Quitting isn't the word I would use."
"Sure it isn't. You've probably got twenty fancy words that all mean the same thing. But at the end of the day it's all loser talk."
I stared at the tip of the wrinkled finger she was pointing at my face and considered my options. Reaching out, grabbing it, and breaking it seemed the most satisfying. Also, the most likely to land me in jail.
Instead I rose from my chair and began to pack up my supplies. As she began to gather wind for another assault on my character, I spoke first.
"I'm done here, Mrs. Rockford. You'll just have to find someone else to paint your portrait. Though I should warn you: whoever you get to replace me is very likely to, as you put it, make you look fat. Because you are. Hideously so, in my opinion."
With that I wished her the best of luck and left.
Wednesday June 13th, 2012
The exercise:
It's been long enough since the last time (also, I am very tired and can't think of a prompt), so today we're doing: continuations.
Just pick up the story where the last person left it and carry it onward for a little while.
We harvested for the restaurant this morning. Came away with: two pounds of swiss chard, two pounds of spinach, two pounds of salad blend, just over two pounds of snow peas, five pounds of rhubarb, and four and a half pounds of strawberries.
I was planning on getting a picture but by the time we finished I was running a bit late for the delivery. I'll try to get one next week.
Mine:
The shadows are creeping closer. I shrink away from their touch but there is no escaping their relentless pursuit, their gloomy grip. Day is stepping aside and night is eager to assume control once more.
Life becomes simpler now, more focused. I suppose I should be grateful for that. The many complications and decisions that call for my attention during daylight hours melt away, leaving me with a single thought, a solitary purpose.
Survive until dawn.
It's been long enough since the last time (also, I am very tired and can't think of a prompt), so today we're doing: continuations.
Just pick up the story where the last person left it and carry it onward for a little while.
We harvested for the restaurant this morning. Came away with: two pounds of swiss chard, two pounds of spinach, two pounds of salad blend, just over two pounds of snow peas, five pounds of rhubarb, and four and a half pounds of strawberries.
I was planning on getting a picture but by the time we finished I was running a bit late for the delivery. I'll try to get one next week.
Mine:
The shadows are creeping closer. I shrink away from their touch but there is no escaping their relentless pursuit, their gloomy grip. Day is stepping aside and night is eager to assume control once more.
Life becomes simpler now, more focused. I suppose I should be grateful for that. The many complications and decisions that call for my attention during daylight hours melt away, leaving me with a single thought, a solitary purpose.
Survive until dawn.
Tuesday June 12th, 2012
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: symptoms.
Helped Kat's parents put the nets on their cherry trees today. Not my favorite job, but it needs to be done if we want any sort of crop out of them. The birds had already done a number on a lot of the trees by the time we were finished.
Fighting a losing battle with technology tonight. I'm going to bed.
Mine:
I don't need doctors,
these hallucinations will
clear up on their own
* * *
I am not crazy.
If you don't believe me, ask
my dog. He talks now.
Write two haiku about: symptoms.
Helped Kat's parents put the nets on their cherry trees today. Not my favorite job, but it needs to be done if we want any sort of crop out of them. The birds had already done a number on a lot of the trees by the time we were finished.
Fighting a losing battle with technology tonight. I'm going to bed.
Mine:
I don't need doctors,
these hallucinations will
clear up on their own
* * *
I am not crazy.
If you don't believe me, ask
my dog. He talks now.
Monday June 11th, 2012
The exercise:
Today we write about: the sisters.
Wanted to mark the occasion of The Sisters Brothers joining the ranks of my Recommended Reading page, but saw that I'd already used 'brothers' as a prompt. This was the next best option.
We had a pretty big harvest this morning for local orders, with 21 bags of various greens going out to good homes. And we'll be starting with the restaurant on Wednesday, which is exactly a month earlier than last year.
Plus the sun was shining. All day!
Also: happy birthday to my Dad. I'm sure Mom spoiled you to bits today.
Can't ask for much more than that out of a Monday.
Mine:
Eliza watched her sister as she approached the coffee shop, purse clutched tightly against her stomach. It was difficult not to shake her head in disgust, but Eliza managed it. Her third cup of the afternoon helped greatly in this endeavor.
"Over here, Daisy," she called out once her sister was safely off the sidewalk.
"Oh, thank goodness you're here," Daisy said as she slumped into the chair on the far side of the table. She took a few deep breaths before she was able to continue. "There was this strange man following me for the last five blocks. I just know he was planning on robbing me, or worse!"
"Of course he was," Eliza said with a sympathetic smile. She was going to need another coffee to keep this up. "You poor thing."
"I don't know how you stand living in this insane asylum of a city," Daisy whispered, glancing around to make sure there was no one close enough to overhear. "Are you on some sort of medication to handle the anxiety? Can I have some?"
Sunday June 10th, 2012
The exercise:
Write something that has to do with: hats.
The sun actually returned today! It was glorious.
Mine:
Uncle Ted owned three cowboy hats, all black. Originally, at least. By the end only one could legitimately lay claim to that color.
The first was his work hat. This he wore in the fields and stables, and was by far the most used - and loved, I've always suspected. Over the years it collected more and more dirt, until it was in danger of being lost forever if it was dropped on bare earth.
The second he liked to call his Town Hat. A trip to the store or bank or pub wouldn't have been complete without it. Sunshine turned that one a mottled grey.
Last came his formal hat, only dusted off on serious or solemn occasions: weddings, funerals, and visits to his wife's parents in New York. Remained as black as it was the day he first brought it home.
When Uncle Ted passed on there was some debate as to which hat should accompany him to the hereafter. In the end common sense did finally prevail, I'm glad to report.
Saturday June 9th, 2012
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: the receptionist.
I thought I'd celebrate the fourth anniversary of this blog by buying a new laptop!
Well, no, but that's what I ended up doing today. I suppose it was time for an update anyway, but it didn't rate very highly in the Affordability and Excellent Timing categories.
But still, happy fourth birthday, Daily Writing Practice. June 9th, 2008 feels like a long, long time ago.
Mine:
She welcomes your questions
With a big plastic smile,
And notes all of your faults
In her thick secret file.
Friday June 8th, 2012
The exercise:
Four lines of prose about: reflections.
Laptop might have died this afternoon. If you're reading this then it still hasn't been fixed - I'm scheduling this post from the library.
Fingers crossed it isn't an expensive or prolonged problem.
Mine:
The water is as still as a grave, reflecting the storm brewing overhead as though it were a liquid hand mirror. A man sits on the grassy shore, knees drawn up to his chest, his unfocused gaze on the pond.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, louder and more threatening than the previous grumbled warning.
And the man thinks, It won't be long now.
Four lines of prose about: reflections.
Laptop might have died this afternoon. If you're reading this then it still hasn't been fixed - I'm scheduling this post from the library.
Fingers crossed it isn't an expensive or prolonged problem.
Mine:
The water is as still as a grave, reflecting the storm brewing overhead as though it were a liquid hand mirror. A man sits on the grassy shore, knees drawn up to his chest, his unfocused gaze on the pond.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, louder and more threatening than the previous grumbled warning.
And the man thinks, It won't be long now.
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