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Date Posted: 08:47:17 05/29/10 Sat
Author: Debi
Subject: A wee spark o' inspiration...
Time again for a pause to try something new; a couple of quick writing exercises.
1. An Early Memory: We're always told, 'write what you know', so much so that sometimes we start to ignore the advice. But it can help get you started and it's not just what you know, it's how you percieve things around you. Your recollection of an event may differ from the person's standing next to you. So, in this exercise, write in the present tense, write an early memory in the first person. Choose something that happened before you (or the character) was ten. Use words and perception appropriate to a young child. The memory should be encapsulated in a short period of time, about an hour. Don't interpret or analyze; simply report it as you would a dream. When you can't remember details, make them up. You may heighten the narrative as long as you remain faithful to the 'meaning' of the memory, the reason you recalled it in the first place.
2. Line, Please!: Use the following line in a story: "Sometimes, when I dream, it feels like there's someone else in there with me."
Okay, that is all. Let's have some fun and make some stuff up!
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Option 1 -- Alex, 13:14:13 06/01/10 Tue
It was the pain that made the first impression. Well, actually, that's not true. The first thing I remember is the look on my Mom's face. She was irritated. Annoyed. No doubt due to the constant demand a toddler makes on your time and sanity. So she was only half paying attention when I walked up to her with my arm extended. She was on the phone. The lemon yellow spiral cord stretched across the space above the dinette table to the unit mounted on the wall. One of those big rectangular dealies. Anyway, she glanced at me automatically saying 'no', then did a double take. Her gaze went from disinterest, to fierce attention, to something I'd never seen before. Normally she was unflappable and I'd shattered her composure, like the toy I'd fallen on in the living room. That's when the plastic shard that pierced my forearm, passing completely through, with a good few inches sticking out over my wrist, hurt.
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Ouch... -- 
debikm, 20:30:13 06/01/10 Tue
Toy recall!!! Damn, that smarts just thinking about it. Good images and saving the kicker until that last sentance was very effective.
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Love the way you show your mother's expression change -- Fi, 09:17:21 06/09/10 Wed
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Kids! >>>> -- Page, 16:58:11 06/14/10 Mon
I love the way your mom looked up and automatically said, "No." BTDT! And then the expressions on her face as her mind finally took in what she was seeing. Great job!
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Snap, crackle and pop -- Fi, 07:20:05 06/03/10 Thu
"I've got a multiplication test today," I say.
"I've got a multiplication test today," my brother repeats.
We are at the breakfast table, eating Rice Krispies with milk. My mother is trying to feed the baby some kind of apple gloop. My father has already left for work.
"Stop copying me," I tell my brother.
"Stop copying me," he parrots.
My mother aims the spoon at the baby's mouth, but he turns sideways and the apple gloop ends up on his cheek. His tiny faces scrunches and he starts to wail.
"Mammy, tell him to stop copying me," I say.
"Mammy, tell him to stop copying me."
"Stop copying your sister." She lifts the baby out of the highchair, sniffs his bottom, and shakes her head. "I just changed you."
She brings the baby into the next room. I scowl at my brother across the table. He scowls back.
"You're such a pain."
"You're such a pain."
I stir the Rice Krispies with my spoon. They go snap, crackle and pop in the milk, just like on television. My brother stirs his, mirroring me. I lift a spoonful to my mouth. My brother lifts a spoonful to his. He chews when I chew, swallows when I swallow.
"Stop doing that!"
"Stop doing that!"
I clunk my spoon on the table, and his spoon comes down with equal vehemence.
"I'm warning you!"
"I'm warning you!"
I grab the sides of my bowl, and he grabs his. But I am too quick and my bowl is now upside-down over his head. He wails just like our littler brother. My mother returns with the baby over her shoulder. I don't care if she punishes me; it's worth it to see the milk and Rice Krispies trickle down my brother's outraged face. But she looks as if she is trying not to laugh.
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This is awesome! -- debikm, 12:59:57 06/03/10 Thu
I love it! Being an only child, this same scene might have taken place between me and my dad instead, but I do recognize the teasing interplay. My dad's favorite trick was to take something like a biscuit or roll off my plate and lick it, then give it back. That stopped when he realized it didn't faze me at all. ;-)
Good stuff!
Debi
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Glad you liked it -- Fi, 09:18:42 06/09/10 Wed
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Do we have the same little brother?! >>>> -- Page, 17:00:33 06/14/10 Mon
This could've been me and my brother when we were children. He knew the most irritating thing he could do was to repeat everything I said, all the while with that little smirk on his face. Sure wish I would have thought of baptism by Rice Crispies!
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Is this the same brother that calls you 'Brunhilda'? ;-) -- Debi, 18:23:42 06/14/10 Mon
All the joy I missed out on being an only child. My dad could be just as bad, taking food off my plate, licking it and giving it back. He's the youngest, BTW.;-)
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One and the same. And when he tires of Brunhilda, he calls me "Battleaxe." *G* -- Page, 17:58:53 06/22/10 Tue
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Do all little brothers do that? We tormented each other as kids, but we're good friends now. -- Fi, 05:01:00 06/17/10 Thu
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Aprons and movie trailers -- debikm, 19:47:10 06/07/10 Mon
Mama's baking in the kitchen. I'm helping, and since I'm helping, I get to wear her apron. It's blue and has flowers on it and it wraps around me twice. The kitchen is small and narrow but I pull a chair up to the sink so I can reach and stir the brownie stuff. I feel big and smart since I could read most of the words on the paper that told us how to make the brownies. I stir and stir until my arms get tired and Mama tells me I did a real good job. Then she takes the bowl to pour the brownie stuff in a pan so they can bake. I get down from the chair and go in the living room. There's an old movie on TV, a black and white movie with a big old monkey in it, climbing up the side of a building. As I watch, I see something on the apron, coming up out of the pocket.
A bug.
A GIANT bug, as big as a SugarBaby, coming out of the pocket and crawling up my chest.
I scream.
Mom thought the monkey on the building was scaring me.
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Very nice. I can almost smell the brownies. -- Fi, 09:14:47 06/09/10 Wed
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What ever happened to aprons? >>> -- Page, 17:03:11 06/14/10 Mon
My mom always wore an apron, too, and you just don't see them anymore. I also knew immediately what a SugarBaby was, and you don't see those anymore, either. I guess they finally figured out giving kids blobs of caramel-flavored sugar wasn't the best idea. *G* But the bug! *shiver* I'd have lost my mind!
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LOL Page! -- Debi, 18:25:36 06/14/10 Mon
>My mom always wore an apron, too, and you just don't
>see them anymore. I also knew immediately what a
>SugarBaby was, and you don't see those anymore,
>either. I guess they finally figured out giving kids
>blobs of caramel-flavored sugar wasn't the best idea.
>*G* But the bug! *shiver* I'd have lost my mind!
I was thinking of you when I wrote that true story. Today, bugs are gross but I don't freak. Growing up in Florida either makes you completely neurotic about bugs or you acclimate. I just smash the nasty critters.
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Keep your hands and ponytails inside the ride at all times. >>>> -- Page, 17:28:51 06/14/10 Mon
It's really too cold to be playing outside, but Nancy is babysitting today and the first thing she always does is chase us outside so she can yak on the phone and watch TV. At least she's better than Cotton. Cotton tells us scary stories about the old man who lives the next street over. I don't think Mama and Daddy like Cotton very much, either. If they knew Nancy locks us out of the house when they leave they probably wouldn't like her, too.
My red and black corduroy carcoat is too short in the sleeves, but I'm not going to say anything about it. If I do, Mama might put it in the trash barrel and burn it the way she did my favorite shoes when they started hurting my toes. I cried so hard when she did that! She said she was sorry. I don't care if they didn't fit. They were mine. Just like my carcoat. So I keep pulling the sleeves so my arms won't stick out so much.
The yard is still wet from when it snowed, so my little brother and I are taking turns pulling each other around the patio in the wagon. I have been pulling him for a long time and I think it should be my turn to ride now. But when I stop he starts whining. He always whines and that's why he didn't have to go to our big brother's wedding. Since he's only two he got to stay home and he got to have Mrs. Blaylock babysit him! When I found that out I wanted to stay home, too, but Mama made me go since I was the flower girl and she and Daddy bought me a new white dress with blue ribbons on the front. Mrs. Blaylock was better than being a flower girl. I was the only kid there, and my big brother kept telling me not to step on Lynn's wedding dress like I was a baby or something. So when we threw the rice I threw mine at him as hard as I could.
I finally get Whiny Butt out of the wagon and now it's his turn to pull me around. I like to lie down in the wagon and watch the clouds. So I do. But after a few minutes my hair starts hurting. It hurts bad, too! I yell at my brother to stop and he starts laughing. My ponytail has been hanging out of the wagon and part of my hair is all wrapped around the wheel. It hurts and my brother won't stop laughing and Nancy won't do anything about it because she's just stupid. So I start to cry. I'm going to have to live out here in this wagon forever and probably freeze to death because of my hair.
But then I hear my daddy's voice and I start to cry harder. I don't know why it makes me do that, because I know my daddy will save me. He comes over and gets on his knees next to the wagon and looks at my hair. And then he takes out his pocket knife! The only reason my hair hangs down past my butt is because Daddy doesn't want Mama to cut it, and now he has out a knife! He starts doing something and I can feel it tugging on my hair. Then he tells me to sit up, and I can! Daddy is still doing something to the wagon wheel and in a minute he holds up some of my hair. Ew! It's all black and greasy from being on the wheel. He laughs when I won't touch it. Then he picks up my little brother and takes me by the hand and we go into the warm house where Mama is waiting.
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Love it! Got my hair caught in one of those old metal fans. OUCH! -- Debi, 18:27:47 06/14/10 Mon
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OUCH for sure! I think I learned my lesson with the wagon. I don't remember ever getting my hair caught like that again. -- Page, 17:55:46 06/22/10 Tue
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You've really caught that child's voice -- Fi, 04:53:05 06/17/10 Thu
I especially love this line: "I'm going to have to live out here in this wagon forever and probably freeze to death because of my hair." Typical of the way a little kid would think.
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Thank you, Fi! That's one thought I remembered clearly from that day, and it scared me to pieces. (I also remember very clearly that I wanted to sock my little brother in the face for laughing! *G*) -- Page, 17:57:37 06/22/10 Tue
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