Writing Challenge, Week 1
Day 1: Detail. Describe your most precious object using words that paint a picture. Don’t write anything that conveys a concept—it won’t count. Make a picture with your words. The object can be sentimental or expensive.
Day 2: Meaning. In one or two paragraphs, write out the meaning behind
the object of Day 1. Describe your emotions and feelings that are tied to it.
Day 3: Sensory. It is said that the sense of smell is the sense that has
the most memories tied to it. Pick a scent, describe it using sentences that
help the reader smell it too (no concepts), and describe the memory associated
with it.
Day 4: Concise. Tell a story using six words or less. (ex. “For sale.
Baby shoes. Never worn.” Ernest Hemingway.)
Day 5: Conflict. Stories revolve around conflict. Write a short scene
based on discord. It can be an argument, a battle, or even an inner struggle.
Day 6: Point of view (POV). Describe the feelings, thoughts, and actions
of a person staring in the face of death from the 1st-person POV. Do
not mention anything s/he could not know (i.e. an opponent’s thoughts), or
anything that s/he would not notice in the situation (i.e. if the sky is blue
or not—unless blue sky is directly related to and important to the context).
Day 7: Emotion. There’s the way people feel and the way they react. Pick
an emotion, then describe the way either someone real or fictional demonstrates
it. Remember, sadness is not the only emotion. (ex. People often respond to
fear with anger.)
Day 3:
ReplyDeleteWarm, earthy smell, with a zing of vinegar. Bone broth reminds me of cold winter mornings, where it’s still dark outside, the house has a cozy glow inside. It takes me back to sitting at the desktop, writing the Rough Draft of my first novel, while my mom cooked bone broth as a drink for herself. It reminds me of imagining and typing up scenes of Detroit winter streets and writing cheesy dialogue between hero and villain on an Army base in Vietnam. :)
(Sorry it’s such a bad description of what bone broth smells like. I haven’t smelled it in a while.)
Day 4:
Pirates. Cannon fire. Explosion. No survivors.
Gun salute. Flag-covered coffin. Taps.
Day 5:
My stomach tenses up, and I can’t think.
It’s all gonna go wrong.
I tell myself I’ll be fine. But it doesn’t work.
What if…?
The question is always there. Panic rises in my chest, and I tighten my jaw. I huddle down in my chair, expressionless and not speaking.
They think I’m angry. But they don’t realize I’m terrified.
The worst part is there’s no reason for me to be scared. I know it in my head. I have all the logic in the world.
But, “What if…?” pricks at me.
My head knows I’m okay. I know the truth.
My feelings do not. And I can’t seem to change it.
Day 7:
I am an extreme person. I often express nervousness with tearing up, even though I’m not really crying. Aside from that, I don’t usually cry in front of people, especially if something has hit me really personally.
If I’m in public and something big hurts me, I usually smile really big. I look super happy and bouncy. I don’t know why I do it. I guess I don’t want anyone to suspect anything, and so I demonstrate the extreme opposite of what I feel. It’s a major protection of sorts, I suppose.