The exercise:
Write about: the hook.
We're in the process of figuring out our seed orders for this year, which is always fun. It's a hopeful, anything can happen time of year.
Though once they're in the ground come planting season, they're pretty much at the mercy of the weather. And our ability to keep up with the weeding.
Mine:
There was something missing, something vital. Everyone seemed to know it wasn't there, but nobody had thus far managed to figure out what it was, precisely.
With the deadline approaching faster than anyone cared to admit, each tick of the clock was like a gunshot in the room. Coffees were spilled by nervous hands, sweat stained overpriced shirts, priceless pens were twirled or tapped against teeth... but still the crucial element remained out of reach.
Footsteps in the hall dragged all eyes to the open doorway. It was too soon, surely. They still had time. It couldn't be over already...
An intern walked past, studiously ignoring the stares he felt coming from the room. Breaths were taken, shoulders slumped in relief. The hangman had not yet come.
They still had a chance to find a hook for their Super Bowl commercial.
Sunday January 27th, 2013
The exercise:
Trying out a new prompt that I'd like to bring back every now and again. I shall call it the Bad Day Prompt, with the idea being that each time we'll write about someone in a different profession having... drum roll please... a bad day.
Let us begin with: a superhero.
I was going to provide a link to a proper list of superheroes for you to choose from, but all the ones I'm finding are pretty craptacular. Sorry about that.
Temperature stayed above zero today. I am in favour of this trend continuing.
Mine:
The Flash
He loves playing hero -
Thwarting evil, saving lives;
Grateful not to work one
Of those boring nine-to-fives.
But this cold, lonely night
Has turned his thoughts quite sour.
Now, if given the choice,
He'd ditch his super powers.
Sure, moving fast is great -
He's always ten steps ahead;
But it would be better
If he could slow down in bed.
Trying out a new prompt that I'd like to bring back every now and again. I shall call it the Bad Day Prompt, with the idea being that each time we'll write about someone in a different profession having... drum roll please... a bad day.
Let us begin with: a superhero.
I was going to provide a link to a proper list of superheroes for you to choose from, but all the ones I'm finding are pretty craptacular. Sorry about that.
Temperature stayed above zero today. I am in favour of this trend continuing.
Mine:
The Flash
He loves playing hero -
Thwarting evil, saving lives;
Grateful not to work one
Of those boring nine-to-fives.
But this cold, lonely night
Has turned his thoughts quite sour.
Now, if given the choice,
He'd ditch his super powers.
Sure, moving fast is great -
He's always ten steps ahead;
But it would be better
If he could slow down in bed.
Saturday January 26th, 2013
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: the outfit.
I'm sure I was going to write something interesting here, but Max is snoring away right now and I'm finding it rather distracting.
Mine:
A skimpy little number
Draws so many stares.
"So what if I'm sixty-five?
Ladies love chest hair!"
Write a four line poem about: the outfit.
I'm sure I was going to write something interesting here, but Max is snoring away right now and I'm finding it rather distracting.
Mine:
A skimpy little number
Draws so many stares.
"So what if I'm sixty-five?
Ladies love chest hair!"
Friday January 25th, 2013
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: longevity.
Went up to Penticton this morning for various errands and took the opportunity to buy a bouncer chair for Max. We're hoping it'll help with this daytime fussiness that has emerged over the last week or so.
Just when you think you have him figured out, he pulls out another new development.
Canucks won big tonight, avenging their opening night lose against Anaheim. Looks like they're starting to roll.
Mine:
"Around here," Scott's boss told him the day after he'd been hired, "today is know as Mr. Carter Day."
"Why's that?" Scott asked, not particularly interested in the answer but feeling like it was too early in his career as a waiter to stop caring.
"Mr. Carter has come to our restaurant on this day every year for the last hundred and five years!"
Scott was suitably impressed by this revelation - right up until the local undertaker wheeled Mr. Carter's coffin into the lobby.
Write four lines of prose about: longevity.
Went up to Penticton this morning for various errands and took the opportunity to buy a bouncer chair for Max. We're hoping it'll help with this daytime fussiness that has emerged over the last week or so.
Just when you think you have him figured out, he pulls out another new development.
Canucks won big tonight, avenging their opening night lose against Anaheim. Looks like they're starting to roll.
Mine:
"Around here," Scott's boss told him the day after he'd been hired, "today is know as Mr. Carter Day."
"Why's that?" Scott asked, not particularly interested in the answer but feeling like it was too early in his career as a waiter to stop caring.
"Mr. Carter has come to our restaurant on this day every year for the last hundred and five years!"
Scott was suitably impressed by this revelation - right up until the local undertaker wheeled Mr. Carter's coffin into the lobby.
Thursday January 24th, 2013
The exercise:
Today's writing instigator shall be: bones.
We got an unexpected call this week from the chef at the Watermark Beach Resort here in Osoyoos. Apparently our friends at the bakery had passed our card on to him and he was interested in meeting with us to discuss making use of our produce in their restaurant.
We'd considered approaching them in previous years but for various reasons never got around to it, so we were definitely interested. We went in this afternoon to meet him and things went well, so it looks like we've got a new destination for our veggies, berries, and fruit this year.
It would appear our next farming season has begun already.
Mine:
He studies his creation in silence, allowing the cares of the day to crumble to dust. The meetings, the deadlines, the endless reports and spreadsheets. Complaints from underlings and demands of supervisors fall away as a lone finger traces the intricate details of his pet project.
It is not complete, but he finds that less bothersome than usual. For this condition is temporary, he can see that now. An end is in sight, nearly within reach.
He has found the missing pieces.
She arrived last week. Introductions were made by that dolt in Sales. Terry or John or whatever his name is. Unimportant.
Molly. She's all that matters. And those magnificent cheekbones of hers. How long has he searched for them without even knowing it?
The wait is almost over now. Soon his masterpiece will be whole, the way it had first come to him while he slept. Pure perfection.
All that's left is to find a way to get Molly alone.
Today's writing instigator shall be: bones.
We got an unexpected call this week from the chef at the Watermark Beach Resort here in Osoyoos. Apparently our friends at the bakery had passed our card on to him and he was interested in meeting with us to discuss making use of our produce in their restaurant.
We'd considered approaching them in previous years but for various reasons never got around to it, so we were definitely interested. We went in this afternoon to meet him and things went well, so it looks like we've got a new destination for our veggies, berries, and fruit this year.
It would appear our next farming season has begun already.
Mine:
He studies his creation in silence, allowing the cares of the day to crumble to dust. The meetings, the deadlines, the endless reports and spreadsheets. Complaints from underlings and demands of supervisors fall away as a lone finger traces the intricate details of his pet project.
It is not complete, but he finds that less bothersome than usual. For this condition is temporary, he can see that now. An end is in sight, nearly within reach.
He has found the missing pieces.
She arrived last week. Introductions were made by that dolt in Sales. Terry or John or whatever his name is. Unimportant.
Molly. She's all that matters. And those magnificent cheekbones of hers. How long has he searched for them without even knowing it?
The wait is almost over now. Soon his masterpiece will be whole, the way it had first come to him while he slept. Pure perfection.
All that's left is to find a way to get Molly alone.
Wednesday January 23rd, 2013
The exercise:
Let us write a few words about: the instrument.
It's been a long day and I am ready for bed.
Oh, the Canucks won their first of the season tonight. Wasn't pretty but I'll take it.
Mine:
It lurks in the corner of the living room, gathering dust and regret. Holding tightly to both, it watches me. I can feel its gaze crawl across my skin.
It watches me read, watches me as I, in turn, watch mindless television shows. It sees me eat, sleep, clean - everything else in the room, the house, my life. Floors and walls cannot stop its stare.
It watches most keenly when I ignore it, neglect it. Which just happens to be all the time.
Filling me with guilt and shame, it reminds me of the long ago lessons that my fingers have forgotten. No words are needed for this, I just need to glance in its direction.
Daunting and debilitating, this supposedly inanimate piano.
Let us write a few words about: the instrument.
It's been a long day and I am ready for bed.
Oh, the Canucks won their first of the season tonight. Wasn't pretty but I'll take it.
Mine:
It lurks in the corner of the living room, gathering dust and regret. Holding tightly to both, it watches me. I can feel its gaze crawl across my skin.
It watches me read, watches me as I, in turn, watch mindless television shows. It sees me eat, sleep, clean - everything else in the room, the house, my life. Floors and walls cannot stop its stare.
It watches most keenly when I ignore it, neglect it. Which just happens to be all the time.
Filling me with guilt and shame, it reminds me of the long ago lessons that my fingers have forgotten. No words are needed for this, I just need to glance in its direction.
Daunting and debilitating, this supposedly inanimate piano.
Tuesday January 22nd, 2013
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: a winter evening.
Had a bit of time to myself this morning and actually managed to get some writing done. It felt spectacularly good.
Mine:
Iced drinks in each hand,
watching soft waves kiss the beach;
winter in Cuba.
* * *
Beneath thick blankets,
hypnotized by the fire,
dreaming of Cuba.
Write two haiku about: a winter evening.
Had a bit of time to myself this morning and actually managed to get some writing done. It felt spectacularly good.
Mine:
Iced drinks in each hand,
watching soft waves kiss the beach;
winter in Cuba.
* * *
Beneath thick blankets,
hypnotized by the fire,
dreaming of Cuba.
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