“WAG #15: Best Tool For The Job” Thanks to Paige for the topic idea! Paige’s idea was to have the topic this week be about writing tools such as a keyboard or favourite pen, but I’d like to expand this to be any type of tool, whether it’s a gardening tool or a jackhammer or a toenail clipper. Describe a favourite tool in concrete terms, but also show how you (or whomever it belongs to) feel about using it, and how it leaves an individual or particular mark on the end product.
An old woman, Sally has her favorite container of gardening tools. She puts on her big floppy hat to shield the sun from her face and neck. Then tugs on her gardening gloves-thick strong canvas with a red speckled flower pattern on white. Well, they used to be white but are now stained with the green and black of plant juice and mud. She picks up the wooden container and goes out to her flower bed, kneels on her knee pads and looks over her container for the right tool for the job. Rather like an experienced golfer will look over his bag of clubs, perhaps pulling one out, then changing his mind and putting it back. The scent of lilacs on the cool breeze washes over her face as she studies her tool box. Finally she selects the right tool. A shiny hand spade with a dark brown wooden handle. She takes good care of her gardening tools. Unlike her gloves, they are carefully cleaned and shined after each use. So, the tip of the spade is sharp enough to cut through hardened dirt and errant roots.
The first slice into the dirt fills her with satisfaction as her arm absorbs the shock of it. She tastes dirt in the air. The sun warms her through her cotton blouse. Her shoulder and back muscles bunch and elongate as she digs out weed roots and mixes in compost. Then, again, the blade cuts smoothly through the ground as she creates holes a few inches deeper than the plant pots, a few inches wider.
She doesn't plant her flowers in rows. That seems archaic and unimaginative. No, she groups them in groupings of three and five, ensuring the smaller plants are in front while the larger plants take up the rear. Like good little soldiers.
She sits back on her heels and surveys the work. The flower bed is picture perfect. Her gloves covered in dirt lost any pattern they once had. The small shovel is caked in dirt and compost. It is a good tool. She gets up and knows she will wash it off, sharpen the edge and oil it out of respect for the help it has given her. The job it will do the next time she gardens. Job complete she walks back to her tool shed, tired but content. No one will ever suspect her late husband rests under her flowers, happy to finally be of use.
To read the other wonderful WAG blogs or to join in on our writing adventures, click on Nixy Valentine's blog. Cheers!
Showing posts with label Nixy Valentine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nixy Valentine. Show all posts
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
WAG, part 14
“WAG #14: Do-Overs” Thanks to Carol for the topic idea! (This one is more of a mental/emotional exercise than observational, but you get bonus points if you can somehow tie this to a person you can see and describe OR a physical object.) Think of a time where you’d like to change what happened - whether it’s to get that witty retort in or to say something you never got the chance to say. Write how it should have been and compare it to the reality.
Well, poop- I hate compare and contrast- (sorry, Carol, nothing personal)-so, here's what I wrote:
I'm the kind of person who just goes blank when someone says or does something awful. I mean, I just stand there with my mouth open and people march on... full of their horrid little selves, making that funny snappy z with their fingers. Meanwhile my friends come around and say, "I can't believe she said/did that." I know- sigh. "I can't believe you just took that." Okay, all right. So I have a big L for loser on my forehead. Me, banging forehead on wooden desk.
And that is why I write. I write because alone in my office, I can fling comebacks at a moment's notice. I am the superwoman of jabs and sarcastic bits... I am Meg Ryan in "You've Got Mail" dancing around boxing the air, shouting, "go to the mattresses..." (I am also young, athletic and brilliant...okay. It's my office. I can be that.)
Do overs...not so good for me in person. Even if I think of a good come back, I regret every word... so, I've learned instead to simply say "ouch!" when someone is rude or snide. That one word is surprisingly good at taking the wind out of their sails. And I go back to my office and dance around, boxing the air, muttering about mattresses. (I have no idea why, I've never seen "The Godfather.")
Cheers! For all the really wonderful writers and their interpretations of this assignment-visit Nixy Valentine's blog. Please come join WAG. it's a lot of fun to see what they come up with next.
Well, poop- I hate compare and contrast- (sorry, Carol, nothing personal)-so, here's what I wrote:
I'm the kind of person who just goes blank when someone says or does something awful. I mean, I just stand there with my mouth open and people march on... full of their horrid little selves, making that funny snappy z with their fingers. Meanwhile my friends come around and say, "I can't believe she said/did that." I know- sigh. "I can't believe you just took that." Okay, all right. So I have a big L for loser on my forehead. Me, banging forehead on wooden desk.
And that is why I write. I write because alone in my office, I can fling comebacks at a moment's notice. I am the superwoman of jabs and sarcastic bits... I am Meg Ryan in "You've Got Mail" dancing around boxing the air, shouting, "go to the mattresses..." (I am also young, athletic and brilliant...okay. It's my office. I can be that.)
Do overs...not so good for me in person. Even if I think of a good come back, I regret every word... so, I've learned instead to simply say "ouch!" when someone is rude or snide. That one word is surprisingly good at taking the wind out of their sails. And I go back to my office and dance around, boxing the air, muttering about mattresses. (I have no idea why, I've never seen "The Godfather.")
Cheers! For all the really wonderful writers and their interpretations of this assignment-visit Nixy Valentine's blog. Please come join WAG. it's a lot of fun to see what they come up with next.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
WAG, part 13
“WAG #13:Dress for Success” Thanks to Peter Spalton for the topic idea! For this week, find yourself a stranger (Yes, we’re all turning into a bunch of WAG stalkers!) Notice what the person is wearing, and then imagine the process they went through getting dressed. Peter suggests: Add lots of detail so we understand what sort of person they are and where they’re going after they’re ready.
Okay- back to the mall for me...
She searched the tiny over-stuffed closet of her trailer and pulled out three pair of black pants. One had pockets on the thighs. One pulled on with an elastic waistband and the third was a bad imitation of a pair of jeans. It was Saturday and she would be busy so she choose the pull on pair. With so many kids coming into work on Saturday, this was a pair that was ugly, but indestructible. She had four white shirts but she hadn't gone to the laundrymat yet and so only one was clean. Without much thought, she tugged the shirt on over her head and tied the tiny straps in the back. It was a pinafore design with detailed stitching around the yoke, high puffed sleeves and the ties gave it the appearance of a smock. She brushed the worn cotton fabric down over the elastic waistband of her jersey knit pants. It was good enough--clean and met her work dress code. She bent down and retrieved black sneakers. Her one spurge, but when you were on your feet for eight hours straight it was important to have good support. Digging a pair of thin socks from the plastic drawer set that served as her dresser, she sat down on the built in bed and put on her socks and shoes. A quick brush through her thick unruly brown hair with a blue streak, then a dab of red lipstick and she was ready for her day. Grabbing her faux leather purse and the keys of her old Pontiac, she headed out the door, hoping and praying she wouldn't be late. The beauty shop owner would dock her pay if she was and that was something she couldn't afford...not if she wanted to eat next week.
To read and follow all the other great WAG blogs click on Nixy Valentine's blog. She has the links to all the participants and instructions on how to join wag. Come join us. It's great fun! Cheers-
Okay- back to the mall for me...
She searched the tiny over-stuffed closet of her trailer and pulled out three pair of black pants. One had pockets on the thighs. One pulled on with an elastic waistband and the third was a bad imitation of a pair of jeans. It was Saturday and she would be busy so she choose the pull on pair. With so many kids coming into work on Saturday, this was a pair that was ugly, but indestructible. She had four white shirts but she hadn't gone to the laundrymat yet and so only one was clean. Without much thought, she tugged the shirt on over her head and tied the tiny straps in the back. It was a pinafore design with detailed stitching around the yoke, high puffed sleeves and the ties gave it the appearance of a smock. She brushed the worn cotton fabric down over the elastic waistband of her jersey knit pants. It was good enough--clean and met her work dress code. She bent down and retrieved black sneakers. Her one spurge, but when you were on your feet for eight hours straight it was important to have good support. Digging a pair of thin socks from the plastic drawer set that served as her dresser, she sat down on the built in bed and put on her socks and shoes. A quick brush through her thick unruly brown hair with a blue streak, then a dab of red lipstick and she was ready for her day. Grabbing her faux leather purse and the keys of her old Pontiac, she headed out the door, hoping and praying she wouldn't be late. The beauty shop owner would dock her pay if she was and that was something she couldn't afford...not if she wanted to eat next week.
To read and follow all the other great WAG blogs click on Nixy Valentine's blog. She has the links to all the participants and instructions on how to join wag. Come join us. It's great fun! Cheers-
Saturday, May 16, 2009
WAG, part 12
“WAG #12: Memory Lane” Thanks to Lulu for the topic idea! For this week, describe something by memory. It can be a place, a person, whatever you like. Include as much detail as you can as well as your impressions. If possible, then go and see this thing, and also describe how your memory of it was different from the current reality. What had you left out? It also might be interesting to include how your memory of it is different from someone else’s! No limits on this one! No rules to break!
The cookie jar is smooth to the touch and glistens with clear glaze. It is tan and brown and about eighteen inches long. The jar is the shape of a cow. The head has horns and a cheery smile. The spine is bony, a Jersey cow, I think, with a long tail stuck forever in a half swish. The cow is resting on the ground, its legs stuck safely under it. The lid to the jar is a striped tabby cat with long whiskers also tan and brown, but the cat grins like the cat in "Alice in Wonderland." Its tongue wiping the remains for milk off its face. A whimsy of a jar made in the 1960s. When people still laughed at the idea of squirting cow's milk from the utter and letting the cat lick it up. The jar is valuable now, most of the cats having been knocked off the cow's back. I like it because my Great-Aunt gave it to me. She lives on a 150 year old farm and claims she had stored it in the barn.
I go downstairs and search the cookie jar collection displayed on my cabinet tops. There is the jar, just as I remember it. My fingers slide over the smooth glaze and bony back. I return the cat's smile. Happy to have such a rare piece of silly whimsy. I look around at all 25 cookie jars from owls, to rag dolls, to castles, to stoves and wonder which one I hid the keys in...
To read other wonderful WAG exercises go to Nixy Valentine's blog and click on the links. (There are also instructions so that you can join us in the fun.) cheers!
The cookie jar is smooth to the touch and glistens with clear glaze. It is tan and brown and about eighteen inches long. The jar is the shape of a cow. The head has horns and a cheery smile. The spine is bony, a Jersey cow, I think, with a long tail stuck forever in a half swish. The cow is resting on the ground, its legs stuck safely under it. The lid to the jar is a striped tabby cat with long whiskers also tan and brown, but the cat grins like the cat in "Alice in Wonderland." Its tongue wiping the remains for milk off its face. A whimsy of a jar made in the 1960s. When people still laughed at the idea of squirting cow's milk from the utter and letting the cat lick it up. The jar is valuable now, most of the cats having been knocked off the cow's back. I like it because my Great-Aunt gave it to me. She lives on a 150 year old farm and claims she had stored it in the barn.
I go downstairs and search the cookie jar collection displayed on my cabinet tops. There is the jar, just as I remember it. My fingers slide over the smooth glaze and bony back. I return the cat's smile. Happy to have such a rare piece of silly whimsy. I look around at all 25 cookie jars from owls, to rag dolls, to castles, to stoves and wonder which one I hid the keys in...
To read other wonderful WAG exercises go to Nixy Valentine's blog and click on the links. (There are also instructions so that you can join us in the fun.) cheers!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
WAG, part 11
“WAG #110: Scaredy-Cat” Another people-watching exercise! Choose a stranger and observe him/her for a little while. Now give them a phobia. A full-on, jump on the chair, scream like a little girl, unreasonable fear. (Or however you imagine them to respond.) Try to choose something that fits the person you’re watching, and let us know what it is about them that clued you in to their secret fear. The object is not just to describe the fear, but to make us understand why it fits with this particular person.
Special thanks to Christine Kirchoff for this week’s topic idea!
This is a true story:
He was a handsome man in his late thirties, thick dark hair, pretty brown eyes. He wore an expensive navy suit with a pale blue dress shirt and an understated blue patterned tie. An aura of power surrounded him. It should. He was the president of the local chamber of commerce. He'd spent years politicking, hand shaking, schmoozing business owners, lawyers, and local politicians. Bringing together the most powerful people in the community, he earned his position through two degrees and many hours at picnics, golf tournaments and coffees.
I sat at my desk and welcomed him one morning. He barely acknowledged me. His eyes held a sort of panic.
"If anyone asks for me, I'm not here." He made a bee-line for his office, went inside, closed and locked the door. Then he drew the blinds on the window between the main office and his.
"Okay..."
Within minutes a chubby man with thinning hair wearing a rumpled dress shirt and slacks entered. His small blue eyes bounced around the room looking for someone. He ignored me and headed toward the president's secretary. They chatted for fifteen minutes. The flubby man's gaze kept traveling to the door as if he were waiting for someone. When the secretary mentioned she had to get back to work, he moved on to me. Introducing himself he held out his hand. I shook it. It was clammy and soft. He handed me his card. "Mr. Jingles, clown." Their was a picture of a clown face on it. I glanced up and could see that the flabby jowls did indeed match those of the clown.
He asked if I'd seen the chamber president today. I gave the standard line. "He's not in right now."
The clown/man studied me as if looking for the lie. Then smiled and made a punny joke and left the office.
When he was well and truly gone, I asked the secretary what that was all about.
"He's afraid of clowns," she said.
"The President?"
"Yep. He does this every time. "
"But the guy didn't have any makeup on..."
"It doesn't matter. Just the fact that the man is a professional clown gives him the heebee jeebees." She glanced at the locked door. "It'll be another hour before he comes out. It freaks him out that much." She looked into my eyes. "We'll keep this between ourselves, okay?"
"Okay." I studied the clown's business card for a moment then looked at the closed door. It never fails to amaze me what people fear. That a big handsome guy who is complete control of his community couldn't handle the thought that a man who played a clown might come into his office. There has to be a story behind that... don't you think?
To read all the other fine entries of the writer's adventure group and for information on how you can join in the fun visit Nixy Valentine's blog.
Special thanks to Christine Kirchoff for this week’s topic idea!
This is a true story:
He was a handsome man in his late thirties, thick dark hair, pretty brown eyes. He wore an expensive navy suit with a pale blue dress shirt and an understated blue patterned tie. An aura of power surrounded him. It should. He was the president of the local chamber of commerce. He'd spent years politicking, hand shaking, schmoozing business owners, lawyers, and local politicians. Bringing together the most powerful people in the community, he earned his position through two degrees and many hours at picnics, golf tournaments and coffees.
I sat at my desk and welcomed him one morning. He barely acknowledged me. His eyes held a sort of panic.
"If anyone asks for me, I'm not here." He made a bee-line for his office, went inside, closed and locked the door. Then he drew the blinds on the window between the main office and his.
"Okay..."
Within minutes a chubby man with thinning hair wearing a rumpled dress shirt and slacks entered. His small blue eyes bounced around the room looking for someone. He ignored me and headed toward the president's secretary. They chatted for fifteen minutes. The flubby man's gaze kept traveling to the door as if he were waiting for someone. When the secretary mentioned she had to get back to work, he moved on to me. Introducing himself he held out his hand. I shook it. It was clammy and soft. He handed me his card. "Mr. Jingles, clown." Their was a picture of a clown face on it. I glanced up and could see that the flabby jowls did indeed match those of the clown.
He asked if I'd seen the chamber president today. I gave the standard line. "He's not in right now."
The clown/man studied me as if looking for the lie. Then smiled and made a punny joke and left the office.
When he was well and truly gone, I asked the secretary what that was all about.
"He's afraid of clowns," she said.
"The President?"
"Yep. He does this every time. "
"But the guy didn't have any makeup on..."
"It doesn't matter. Just the fact that the man is a professional clown gives him the heebee jeebees." She glanced at the locked door. "It'll be another hour before he comes out. It freaks him out that much." She looked into my eyes. "We'll keep this between ourselves, okay?"
"Okay." I studied the clown's business card for a moment then looked at the closed door. It never fails to amaze me what people fear. That a big handsome guy who is complete control of his community couldn't handle the thought that a man who played a clown might come into his office. There has to be a story behind that... don't you think?
To read all the other fine entries of the writer's adventure group and for information on how you can join in the fun visit Nixy Valentine's blog.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
WAG, part 10
“WAG #10: The Professional” As we go through our days, we’re surrounded by people doing everyday jobs: the guy that reads the gas meter, cashiers, bank tellers, security guards, doctors, circus clowns… This week, your assignment is to observe someone doing a job (their profession should be one you don’t know that much about). Describe him/her and also what they’re doing, why they’re doing it (as best you can tell), and how. Feel free to use your imagination, but don’t forget the concrete observation! Special thanks to Lulu for this week’s topic idea!
The MRI tech takes me back into the bright white room. She is tall, average build and wearing a light green scrub shirt over a white long sleeve tee. Scrubs pants and efficient white athletic shoes help her walk silently on the linoleum floor. Her hair is a dirty blonde and pulled back into a pony tail at the nape of her neck. She looks to be in her mid thirties and concern fills her hazel eyes.
"The machine is loud so put on the ear plugs." She moves efficiently to the machine. I put the orange plugs in wondering how I'm suppose to hear her with plugs in my ears.
"Okay, hop up here and lie down with your head on the pillow." She smiles encouragingly. I can hear her fine and now I wonder if the plugs are in right or will do any good. I smile and
do as she asks, trying my best to be calm and alleviate her concerns as she tries to soothe mine.
"Scootch down a little. That's good." She goes to work on checking my placement and straps a large plate over my hips, tying me down.
"All strapped in now."I joke, knowing even if I panic I'm basically tied down and can't move. She smiles but her eyes have the "oh, boy" look of wondering if I'll panic.
Meanwhile a second tech, this one also pretty but rounder and more blonde, smiles. She is wearing a colorful scrub shirt with balloons on it. "I'm going to place the IV in your left arm, now."
Okay.
She goes to work. The first tech distracts me with questions. "Are you cold?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Do you get cold? Are you usually cold? Can I get you a blanket?"
I feel the prick of the IV. "Yes, I'm usually cold."
She wraps me up cocoon style in a white blanket. "Now, this will take about forty five minutes. The last ten will be with the contrast dye. You aren't allergic to latex or iodine, are you?"
I blink trying to process while the second lab tech does things I don't understand. "No, I don't think so." I do my best to answer and ignore the big white coffin they are going to slide me into.
"Okay, good. It's very important that you don't move once the scans start. I won't talk to you. So, simply close your eyes and try to take a nap. I'll let you know when we inject the dye. It should feel cold but there should be no burning or itching."
Okay...
"The laser lights are bright," the second tech lies. "So we're going to put a light cloth over your eyes."
She places a terry cloth over my closed eyes. I suspect this is to encourage people from thinking too much once the scans start.
"Okay, we're ready." The tech sounds far off now. Probably behind the glass in the monitoring room. "Here we go."
My heart starts to pound as the machine slides me in. It is loud, like being inside a washing machine. And surprisingly bright even through the terry cloth and my eyelids. I try to do yoga breathing...in...one...two...three... hold and out...one... two... three. Try not to think about forty five minutes being so long. Try instead to use my over wrought imagination to put myself on the beach. Where the bright light shining through my eyelids is the sun. Breathe. Think about the colors of blue in the water...the sky... imagine for a moment what the tech is thinking. Is she still worried that I'll bolt? Does anyone bolt halfway through the scan? The machine jerks and repositions, startling me and I feel a tug on the IV and grab hold of...what? The sled I'm on? Things settle back. She does not speak as she promised. I concentrate on breathing and being somewhere else.
A microphone clicks..."Okay," the tech's voice floats in. "I'm going to release the dye now. It should just feel cold. No burning or itching." I feel the cold run through the tubing along my arm then enter my vein. The machine starts back up and I feel vague burning, vague itching... should I panic? Breathe in and out. Try to go back to the beach. It can't be long now. One of the machine sounds twirps like a bird. Think about birds...
"Okay, all done." The sled pulls out into the air and the second tech removes the terry cloth with a smile. No more concern in her eyes.
"I'll take the IV out now." Pinch and tug.
The first tech has unwrapped the blanket and unstrapped the hip harness. "You did very good." Pride shines in her hazel eyes and relief. I smile. Somehow as I leave the room to get dressed I feel as if I made her day. One more successful scan without hysterics or panic. She goes off to talk to a male tech in the monitor room. I get dressed and go out into the world, glad I don't have to spend my days calming nervous people and wondering if the next person won't cooperate and help me do my job.
Thanks to Nixy Valentine and all the other great Wag members. Please click on the link to Nixy's blog to read the other fun posts. It never ceases to amaze me how much diversity and creativity comes from these assignment. Instructions to join WAG are also posted on Nixy's blog. Cheers!
The MRI tech takes me back into the bright white room. She is tall, average build and wearing a light green scrub shirt over a white long sleeve tee. Scrubs pants and efficient white athletic shoes help her walk silently on the linoleum floor. Her hair is a dirty blonde and pulled back into a pony tail at the nape of her neck. She looks to be in her mid thirties and concern fills her hazel eyes.
"The machine is loud so put on the ear plugs." She moves efficiently to the machine. I put the orange plugs in wondering how I'm suppose to hear her with plugs in my ears.
"Okay, hop up here and lie down with your head on the pillow." She smiles encouragingly. I can hear her fine and now I wonder if the plugs are in right or will do any good. I smile and
do as she asks, trying my best to be calm and alleviate her concerns as she tries to soothe mine.
"Scootch down a little. That's good." She goes to work on checking my placement and straps a large plate over my hips, tying me down.
"All strapped in now."I joke, knowing even if I panic I'm basically tied down and can't move. She smiles but her eyes have the "oh, boy" look of wondering if I'll panic.
Meanwhile a second tech, this one also pretty but rounder and more blonde, smiles. She is wearing a colorful scrub shirt with balloons on it. "I'm going to place the IV in your left arm, now."
Okay.
She goes to work. The first tech distracts me with questions. "Are you cold?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Do you get cold? Are you usually cold? Can I get you a blanket?"
I feel the prick of the IV. "Yes, I'm usually cold."
She wraps me up cocoon style in a white blanket. "Now, this will take about forty five minutes. The last ten will be with the contrast dye. You aren't allergic to latex or iodine, are you?"
I blink trying to process while the second lab tech does things I don't understand. "No, I don't think so." I do my best to answer and ignore the big white coffin they are going to slide me into.
"Okay, good. It's very important that you don't move once the scans start. I won't talk to you. So, simply close your eyes and try to take a nap. I'll let you know when we inject the dye. It should feel cold but there should be no burning or itching."
Okay...
"The laser lights are bright," the second tech lies. "So we're going to put a light cloth over your eyes."
She places a terry cloth over my closed eyes. I suspect this is to encourage people from thinking too much once the scans start.
"Okay, we're ready." The tech sounds far off now. Probably behind the glass in the monitoring room. "Here we go."
My heart starts to pound as the machine slides me in. It is loud, like being inside a washing machine. And surprisingly bright even through the terry cloth and my eyelids. I try to do yoga breathing...in...one...two...three... hold and out...one... two... three. Try not to think about forty five minutes being so long. Try instead to use my over wrought imagination to put myself on the beach. Where the bright light shining through my eyelids is the sun. Breathe. Think about the colors of blue in the water...the sky... imagine for a moment what the tech is thinking. Is she still worried that I'll bolt? Does anyone bolt halfway through the scan? The machine jerks and repositions, startling me and I feel a tug on the IV and grab hold of...what? The sled I'm on? Things settle back. She does not speak as she promised. I concentrate on breathing and being somewhere else.
A microphone clicks..."Okay," the tech's voice floats in. "I'm going to release the dye now. It should just feel cold. No burning or itching." I feel the cold run through the tubing along my arm then enter my vein. The machine starts back up and I feel vague burning, vague itching... should I panic? Breathe in and out. Try to go back to the beach. It can't be long now. One of the machine sounds twirps like a bird. Think about birds...
"Okay, all done." The sled pulls out into the air and the second tech removes the terry cloth with a smile. No more concern in her eyes.
"I'll take the IV out now." Pinch and tug.
The first tech has unwrapped the blanket and unstrapped the hip harness. "You did very good." Pride shines in her hazel eyes and relief. I smile. Somehow as I leave the room to get dressed I feel as if I made her day. One more successful scan without hysterics or panic. She goes off to talk to a male tech in the monitor room. I get dressed and go out into the world, glad I don't have to spend my days calming nervous people and wondering if the next person won't cooperate and help me do my job.
Thanks to Nixy Valentine and all the other great Wag members. Please click on the link to Nixy's blog to read the other fun posts. It never ceases to amaze me how much diversity and creativity comes from these assignment. Instructions to join WAG are also posted on Nixy's blog. Cheers!
Saturday, April 25, 2009
WAG, part 9
“WAG #9: Warning!” Last week the topic was to make something ugly sound beautiful, so this time let’s do the opposite! Choose an unfamiliar object (in other words, one you have no history with) that strikes you as beautiful, appealing, or somehow desirable etc… some ideas might be: a child, a sunset, an attractive shop window, a scenic view, a piece of art, an appetising meal in a restaurant… and write about it in such as way as to make it unappealing or even disgusting, frightening or repulsive to your reader. If you did last week’s topic as well (Rose Colored Glasses) I’d be very interested to know which of these was harder for you...
It was dark when I opened the door and let in my big mutt, George. As he passed by I reached down to pat him only to feel something sticky and wet. The smell. Oh, boy the smell was rancid. "Sit!" I commanded while my mind stared at my hand and thought "Ew, what is that?!"
What indeed. The old boy has a triple coat of long multicolored hair that is usually silky soft. Not any more. He rolled in something... something, sticky, stinky and probably...dead. Sigh. George sat there patiently while I washed my hands and scolded him. The look on his face was priceless. He'd had a good time and was not about to apologize for it. The rank smell of death filled the kitchen. I dragged him to the bathroom and straight into the tub where I proceeded to cover him with half a bottle of dog shampoo. Unfortunately, the coconut smell of the shampoo did little to cut through the sticky smell of death. Now I had an 80 pound sticky soapy mutt. Who thought it was all a great game as he shook and coated me with more rank.
It took an hour and several different types of soaps to remove the gunk from his coat. When it was done, he still had the faint odor of death on him, but his coat was squeaky clean. Next step was to go out with a flashlight, still covered in yuck myself and try to discover what he killed then rolled in. If I didn't find it, he would roll again the moment I let him out. After twenty minutes of searching in the dark, I caught a stronger whiff of the scent that covered me. Following my nose, I found it. A small opossum with its neck snapped covered in the smell and goo I'd washed from my beloved pet. A small burial was performed and when all was right with my world, I went to shower myself in hopes that human soap would rid me of the stench.
Okay, thanks for reading! If you want to read and follow other great Wag bloggers go to Nixy Valentine's blog for links. We would love for you to join in the fun. Details on how to join wag are found on Nixy's blog. Cheers!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
WAG, part 8
“WAG #8: Rose Colored Glasses” Go out and choose an unfamiliar object (in other words, one you have no history with) that strikes you as ugly, repulsive, annoying, etc… some ideas might be: a wad of squashed gum on the pavement, a dead squirrel on the side of the road, an ugly sign, a loud construction site, a tacky sculpture in a charity shop… and write about it in such as way as to make it appealing to your reader. Really sell it! Use whatever words you want and cheat as much as you want, but do your best!
Wow, hard one- I am more repulsed by bad behavior then by the way anything is created. Of course, some things like squished gum are results of bad behavior...
Hmmm. Here goes-
Ladies and gentlemen, let me present to you the most beautiful lamp of all time. It is shapely. It is seductive. It will fit into any decor. From the gorgeous cream colored vinyl to the black fishnet surrounding it, your friends will be amazed. They will not be able to quit looking at it. The women will want to have a pair of dark pumps just like the one at the base while the men will be drawn to the seductive leggy shape. The light is bright but softened by the sounded shade with matching black tassel. Everyone will be talking about this lamp. Everyone will want one. Friends will rush out to have one in their home as well. Even better if you can find a matching pair. This shapely lamp will forever be associated with the best time of year- Christmas. Even your grandchildren will fight over who gets this stunning heirloom when you die. You'll be the talk of the town.
Okay- if I did this right, you'll know what lamp I'm describing. Hint: it's from an old movie.
To read all the other wonderful wag blogs and to learn how to join our merry band please visit Nixy Valentine's blog.
Wow, hard one- I am more repulsed by bad behavior then by the way anything is created. Of course, some things like squished gum are results of bad behavior...
Hmmm. Here goes-
Ladies and gentlemen, let me present to you the most beautiful lamp of all time. It is shapely. It is seductive. It will fit into any decor. From the gorgeous cream colored vinyl to the black fishnet surrounding it, your friends will be amazed. They will not be able to quit looking at it. The women will want to have a pair of dark pumps just like the one at the base while the men will be drawn to the seductive leggy shape. The light is bright but softened by the sounded shade with matching black tassel. Everyone will be talking about this lamp. Everyone will want one. Friends will rush out to have one in their home as well. Even better if you can find a matching pair. This shapely lamp will forever be associated with the best time of year- Christmas. Even your grandchildren will fight over who gets this stunning heirloom when you die. You'll be the talk of the town.
Okay- if I did this right, you'll know what lamp I'm describing. Hint: it's from an old movie.
To read all the other wonderful wag blogs and to learn how to join our merry band please visit Nixy Valentine's blog.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
WAG, part 7
This one is people-watching with a twist. Observe a stranger and sketch a brief background for them, including a secret. Then describe why they are in that particular place at that particular time (where you ran into them) and how it will affect their future. Feel free to be creative, but don’t forget to describe the concrete reality that made you pick them in the first place! (Thank you to Christine Kirchoff for this week’s WAG topic!)
He is probably six foot four inches tall, although it is hard to tell because he's sitting down in a small uncomfortable chair, his long jean clad legs sticking out. Shopping bags surround the chair within easy reach. He is older, balding, his dark hair cut short. His wide shoulders unapologetic as he leans the chair against the wall. Loud dance music plays as women cut in and out around him, hangers and clothes in hand. Clearly he waits for someone outside the dressing room. Is it his wife? His girlfriend? His daughter? Hard to tell. He wears dark sunglasses, his attention on the I-phone in his hands.
I imagine he waits for his wife as she tries on clothes. Some part of his attention is on the door to the dressing room. The rest is involved in a game on his phone. Secretly, he'd rather be with his buddies, drinking beer, watching sports. But he figures, he'll do his time here at the mall and make his wife happy. He leans forward, puts his elbows on his knees, studies the small screen on his phone and smiles. He just won an on-line golf tournament.
A lovely woman comes out. Her brown gaze on him as he looks up, stuffs the phone in his pocket and stands. He tells her she looks great in the dress. No, he doesn't mind if she tries on just one more. She goes back into the dressing room. He shrugs off his lies, sits down and starts a new game. Hopeful he'll be paid back with a little lovin' tonight. Newlyweds.
To follow all the Wag blogs go to Nixy Valentine's blog and click on the links of participating writers. Learn how to join in on the fun on Nixy's page as well.
Cheers!
He is probably six foot four inches tall, although it is hard to tell because he's sitting down in a small uncomfortable chair, his long jean clad legs sticking out. Shopping bags surround the chair within easy reach. He is older, balding, his dark hair cut short. His wide shoulders unapologetic as he leans the chair against the wall. Loud dance music plays as women cut in and out around him, hangers and clothes in hand. Clearly he waits for someone outside the dressing room. Is it his wife? His girlfriend? His daughter? Hard to tell. He wears dark sunglasses, his attention on the I-phone in his hands.
I imagine he waits for his wife as she tries on clothes. Some part of his attention is on the door to the dressing room. The rest is involved in a game on his phone. Secretly, he'd rather be with his buddies, drinking beer, watching sports. But he figures, he'll do his time here at the mall and make his wife happy. He leans forward, puts his elbows on his knees, studies the small screen on his phone and smiles. He just won an on-line golf tournament.
A lovely woman comes out. Her brown gaze on him as he looks up, stuffs the phone in his pocket and stands. He tells her she looks great in the dress. No, he doesn't mind if she tries on just one more. She goes back into the dressing room. He shrugs off his lies, sits down and starts a new game. Hopeful he'll be paid back with a little lovin' tonight. Newlyweds.
To follow all the Wag blogs go to Nixy Valentine's blog and click on the links of participating writers. Learn how to join in on the fun on Nixy's page as well.
Cheers!
Saturday, April 4, 2009
WAG, part 6
“WAG #6: Overheard” Another people-watching exercise this week! This time, let’s listen! Choose a stranger and do your best to overhear what they say, and then write it down. It can be on the phone, to someone else, or even them talking to themselves. What does their voice, word choice, or tone tell you about them? Feel free to write their exact words OR write it as you would for fictional dialogue. By now you guys know the rules aren’t what’s important, but the experience!
Can you place this?
Squawk- "Angie?"
Click -"Yes?"
Squawk-"Where are you?"
Click-"In the back, heading toward the breakroom."
Squawk- "Are you close to the coolers?"
A big long sigh. Click-"What do you need?"
Squawk-"Customer wants to know if we have Horizon Organic milk."
Click-"I'll check."
Squawk. "Thanks."
Click-"Gallon or half?"
Long Pause.
Click-"Gallon or half?"
Squawk-"What do we have?"
Click-"Looks like both."
Squawk-"Price?"
Click-"$3.49 on the gallon. $2.79 on the half."
Squawk- "Thanks."
Click-"You're welcome." The sound of footsteps heading away. The rush of a swinging door. Angie is now on break.
To read the other great-and trust me there are some really great- WAG posts out there- go to Nixy Valentine's blog and click on the links. If you would like to join us with our WAG fun, rules are also posted on Nixy's blog.
Cheers!
Can you place this?
Squawk- "Angie?"
Click -"Yes?"
Squawk-"Where are you?"
Click-"In the back, heading toward the breakroom."
Squawk- "Are you close to the coolers?"
A big long sigh. Click-"What do you need?"
Squawk-"Customer wants to know if we have Horizon Organic milk."
Click-"I'll check."
Squawk. "Thanks."
Click-"Gallon or half?"
Long Pause.
Click-"Gallon or half?"
Squawk-"What do we have?"
Click-"Looks like both."
Squawk-"Price?"
Click-"$3.49 on the gallon. $2.79 on the half."
Squawk- "Thanks."
Click-"You're welcome." The sound of footsteps heading away. The rush of a swinging door. Angie is now on break.
To read the other great-and trust me there are some really great- WAG posts out there- go to Nixy Valentine's blog and click on the links. If you would like to join us with our WAG fun, rules are also posted on Nixy's blog.
Cheers!
Saturday, March 28, 2009
WAG, part 5
“WAG #5: Life In Motion” Sometimes it’s good to approach writing like taking a photograph with words. On the other hand, it’s important to remember that a scene is always in transition. For this week’s adventure, sit in a good observation spot and notice how the scene in front of you changes from one minute to the next. Has the light changed? The sounds? The people? What’s different now compared to when you first arrived? Is there anything you can see (or hear, smell, etc) that is changing right in front of you? Be creative and break the rules! This week is all about change!
From my office:
I am sitting at my desk with my view of the world next to my right shoulder. The outside sun is weak as it enters through the window bringing in white/grey light and dim shadow. As I sit typing--fingers in motion-- the bird sounds change from red-wing black bird to a flock of starlings. Cold wind gusts make the window rattle and moan, then grow silent. A train rumbles through in the far distant. Heat clicks on and blows up the curtains. My little dog Grace pitter pats in, her small feet rustle the carpet. She sniffs the brown pillows on the floor by my chair, turns three times and lays down with a sigh. A roar from the downstairs tele raises up the stairwell as the televised crowd enjoys a basketball game. Downstairs someone is cooking-garlic, warm bread, tomato. Wait is that a snow flake outside? What happened to Spring? The kitchen smells grow stronger-toasted bread, is that soup? The digital clock ticks as the red glowing numbers change. I get up and move out the door. Time for lunch.
Is it cheating to write from my office? Hmmm. Great exercise. Thanks to Nixy Valentine. To read the other WAG members- click on Nixy's blog and follow the list. Also, feel free to join in- instructions for adding your link to the list are also posted on Nixy's blog.
Until next week!
From my office:
I am sitting at my desk with my view of the world next to my right shoulder. The outside sun is weak as it enters through the window bringing in white/grey light and dim shadow. As I sit typing--fingers in motion-- the bird sounds change from red-wing black bird to a flock of starlings. Cold wind gusts make the window rattle and moan, then grow silent. A train rumbles through in the far distant. Heat clicks on and blows up the curtains. My little dog Grace pitter pats in, her small feet rustle the carpet. She sniffs the brown pillows on the floor by my chair, turns three times and lays down with a sigh. A roar from the downstairs tele raises up the stairwell as the televised crowd enjoys a basketball game. Downstairs someone is cooking-garlic, warm bread, tomato. Wait is that a snow flake outside? What happened to Spring? The kitchen smells grow stronger-toasted bread, is that soup? The digital clock ticks as the red glowing numbers change. I get up and move out the door. Time for lunch.
Is it cheating to write from my office? Hmmm. Great exercise. Thanks to Nixy Valentine. To read the other WAG members- click on Nixy's blog and follow the list. Also, feel free to join in- instructions for adding your link to the list are also posted on Nixy's blog.
Until next week!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
WAG, part 4
“WAG #4: Do You Hear What I Hear?” So often, our brain filters out the sounds we hear every day, but sounds can make a story so much more concrete and help your readers feel like they’re really there in a story. This week, go out, sit and listen. (Close your eyes if that helps!) Let your attention move from the obvious sounds to the subtle ones. Try to take in the sounds you usually filter out, whether it’s voices, traffic, children, the hum of overhead lights, or whatever. Write a short description of the sounds and your experience, especially anything unexpected.
This week is an interesting challenge. Especially since the birds have returned and are particularly loud! Here goes.
I'm sitting in my garden, listening to a chorus of honking then the whirr of wings over head swooping in close to splash down on the lake's surface. The gaggle of geese have arrived for their morning coffee break. They usually come around ten in the morning and leave by noon. There are hundreds of them now-honking, flapping, splashing. The sound of their wings so close overhead raises the hairs on the back of my neck. Then the soft quack of a pair of mallards who nest at the waters edge in the spring joins in the mix. Redwing blackbirds trill. Robins call. Their wings smack as the males fight over territory. Sparrows and finches and starlings take over the woods, filling the branches with bird song. The neighbor's dog gets involved, barking and howling as a coyote pads by on nearly silent feet looking for an unsuspecting snack. Squirrels sit up in the tree, chattering at me, tossing nuts to the ground with a plop. A cardinal calls and finds it's mate. The tree branch pings as they fly off. In the far distance the sound of traffic from the highway. A train whistles by to remind me that there are humans present as well. I am not alone.
The Writers Adventure Group-WAG- is a lot of fun. If you enjoy this piece please follow on to Nixy Valentine's blog for links to other entries. If you wish to join in on the fun, Nixy has those rules as well.
Thanks to Nixy and the other WAG members for all the fun. Cheers!
This week is an interesting challenge. Especially since the birds have returned and are particularly loud! Here goes.
I'm sitting in my garden, listening to a chorus of honking then the whirr of wings over head swooping in close to splash down on the lake's surface. The gaggle of geese have arrived for their morning coffee break. They usually come around ten in the morning and leave by noon. There are hundreds of them now-honking, flapping, splashing. The sound of their wings so close overhead raises the hairs on the back of my neck. Then the soft quack of a pair of mallards who nest at the waters edge in the spring joins in the mix. Redwing blackbirds trill. Robins call. Their wings smack as the males fight over territory. Sparrows and finches and starlings take over the woods, filling the branches with bird song. The neighbor's dog gets involved, barking and howling as a coyote pads by on nearly silent feet looking for an unsuspecting snack. Squirrels sit up in the tree, chattering at me, tossing nuts to the ground with a plop. A cardinal calls and finds it's mate. The tree branch pings as they fly off. In the far distance the sound of traffic from the highway. A train whistles by to remind me that there are humans present as well. I am not alone.
The Writers Adventure Group-WAG- is a lot of fun. If you enjoy this piece please follow on to Nixy Valentine's blog for links to other entries. If you wish to join in on the fun, Nixy has those rules as well.
Thanks to Nixy and the other WAG members for all the fun. Cheers!
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Writer's Adventure Group- WAG
I met writers Nixy Valentine and Marsha (Write on) through their fabulous blogs and Facebook. (I have learned to love the social media.) Since we are writers and therefore spend a great deal of time shut up in our rooms, Nixy proposed we have some outdoor adventures and formed the Writer's Adventure Group or WAG. Our mission- to fulfill the weekly assignments, post them and link to other blogs.
All writers are welcome to join in, and we’ll be doing something a little different every week. Original rules on Nixy's blog linked above. Here are the basics:
Each week we’ll do a little mini-writing project together, and post the results on our blogs. This week's assignment is:
The Sky Is The Limit
Outdoor scenes often use the sky, light, or weather to create a mood. So this week let’s practice that. Go outside and look up. Describe the sky exactly as you see it. Use concrete words, no flowery language or metaphor. The idea is to let the physical speak for itself and to train us to be able to create the idea of “peaceful”, “beautiful”, “amazing” without using those kinds of empty words that tell the reader how to feel. Keep it real. No aliens or imaginings or memories. This is an observational exercise!
Following is my example: Gosh I so love to write metaphor and simile...sheesh. Okay-bare bones. Here is what I see this morning.
A huge dome with ends I can't see. The center of the dome is darkest of the pale blues that graduate along the edges to white. Stratus clouds act like lace around the edges. (too flowery?) Hmm. Stratus clouds at the edges go from white to gray as they thicken. The sun-nearer to the horizon is yellow white filtered through the clouds at the fringe. Flocks of dark Canadian geese fly in vees over head. Sparrows and chickadee flutter about, chasing giant black crows. Sounds of honking and kawing vibrate through the air. The very sky itself is cold. Releasing tiny bits of snow that float and never land-too dry to accumulate. Dark branches break up my view as the sun slowly rises in the east.
Okay-Can't wait to read others-have a good week everyone.
All writers are welcome to join in, and we’ll be doing something a little different every week. Original rules on Nixy's blog linked above. Here are the basics:
Each week we’ll do a little mini-writing project together, and post the results on our blogs. This week's assignment is:
The Sky Is The Limit
Outdoor scenes often use the sky, light, or weather to create a mood. So this week let’s practice that. Go outside and look up. Describe the sky exactly as you see it. Use concrete words, no flowery language or metaphor. The idea is to let the physical speak for itself and to train us to be able to create the idea of “peaceful”, “beautiful”, “amazing” without using those kinds of empty words that tell the reader how to feel. Keep it real. No aliens or imaginings or memories. This is an observational exercise!
Following is my example: Gosh I so love to write metaphor and simile...sheesh. Okay-bare bones. Here is what I see this morning.
A huge dome with ends I can't see. The center of the dome is darkest of the pale blues that graduate along the edges to white. Stratus clouds act like lace around the edges. (too flowery?) Hmm. Stratus clouds at the edges go from white to gray as they thicken. The sun-nearer to the horizon is yellow white filtered through the clouds at the fringe. Flocks of dark Canadian geese fly in vees over head. Sparrows and chickadee flutter about, chasing giant black crows. Sounds of honking and kawing vibrate through the air. The very sky itself is cold. Releasing tiny bits of snow that float and never land-too dry to accumulate. Dark branches break up my view as the sun slowly rises in the east.
Okay-Can't wait to read others-have a good week everyone.
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