writing exercise 15:

Finish the story…

My teeth were chattering…

I was a mix between cold and scared. I sat there dripping wet. A nice man brought a blanket and wrapped it around me. Everything was a blur and I don’t think I could even pick that man out today if I saw him again. The boat rocked back and forth. I was nauseous but tried to hold it down because I couldn’t move, I was numb inside and out. I felt paralyzed, I could only look straight ahead. I could hear noise around me but I couldn’t make any words out. Someone was trying to talk to me but I couldn’t understand a word they were saying, I barely had enough energy to blink. I had been treading water for hours, it seemed. I thought help would never arrive. I had an angel looking after me, I just hope my husband has one too. He’s worse off then I was, he went under trying to keep me afloat. The divers found him and performed CPR, a helicopter took him away to the hospital. I didn’t know if he was dead or alive.

Hours later I shuffle my feet walking to the waiting room in the hospital. A nurse led me to a seat and left. I was checked out and waiting to hear any word about my husband. No one can tell me what was going on. I sit impatiently sinking my teeth into that blanket I wouldn’t let go of. It was my safety blanket now, it signaled my safety and I was holding out for my husbands as well. The doctor finally emerged from behind the closed doors, I try to concentrate on his mouth to make sure my ears hear what my eyes read on his lips. “Your husband is going to make it. He is recovering.” Thank God! That is just the news I wanted to hear. Can I see him? They lead me to his room, I lean over the bed holding him tightly and tell him I will never let go, just like he didn’t let me go.

Writing exercise 14. finish the story…

In his rear view mirror the cab driver saw…

a man hurriedly climb into the back seat. He was sweating profusely and was carrying a huge bag stuffed full of who knows what. The cab driver got a really uneasy feeling about this.

“Drive!” The man yells.

“This cab is out of service,” the cab driver tries to tell the man.

“Well put it back in service,” he shouts.

“I’m sorry but you must get out.”

The cab driver tries to be stern, but the next thing he knows he’s looking down the barrel of a gun. “I don’t think you understand English,” the man continues, “Put this car in drive and put your foot on the gas petal, Now!”

The cab driver decides to listen as he doesn’t want this crazy man to kill him and leave his wife and two children behind. He drives as fast as he can, running stop signs and red lights. He’s secretly hoping a cop will pull him over and he can be done with this crazy fare. Unfortunately he makes it to the destination of this crazy man’s with no cops in sight. He’s in front of a run down apartment building and not the best area of town. At least he’s done with this guy, or so he thinks. The man gets out but climbs into the front seat.

“I’m going to need you to stay here and wait for me.” The man says.

“Sure, I will wait” the cab driver says, but knowing all well that he’s going to speed like hell out of there as soon as the guy goes inside.

“Just to ensure you don’t try anything…” he says as he quickly grabs something shiny out of his pocket which cab driver fears is a knife for a split second. He throws hand cuffs on his wrist and cuffs him to the steering wheel and grabs the keys out of the ignition. “I’ll be back, be ready” he warns.

A few minutes later he emerges from the run down apartment carrying another bag. He jumps in the front seat and as he puts the keys back in the ignition and starts the car the cab driver notices blood on his hands. He wants to ask, but refrains out of fear of what he will do. The guy gives the cab driver more instructions on where to go. He stops in front of another building and they go though the same routine with the cuffs and the keys, and emerges again with another bag. The cab driver wonders how long this will go on for, it’s already nearly 2 am.

“One more stop,” the man practically answers the cab drivers thoughts. “Ok, pull over at this park.”

The cab driver almost expects to be cuffed again, but is surprised when the man grabs the bags out of the back seat, throws a couple hundred dollar bills his way and takes off running through the deserted park.

The cab driver sits there stunned for a minute. He wasn’t sure what to do or what to think. He thought about going to the police, but he didn’t have proof of any crimes committed. He didn’t know who this guy was or what he did. He was so exhausted, dumbfounded, and greatful to be be alive that he just went home. He kissed his sleeping children, glad that he was able to see them again, and cuddled with his sleeping wife.

The next morning he almost forgot of the ordeal the night before until he turned on the news. There on the television he recognized the building he stopped at, where he was first handcuffed to the steering wheel. The news anchor was reporting the story that tied three murders together. Wow, what have I done? The man thinks. Murder. I helped this guy commit murder?? Then as the story unfolds, he comes to find out that all these men where major drug distributors. A couple even had charges of murder and rape, and one the police had been after for some time but could never catch up to him. So was this guy doing a good thing to get these men off the streets? At least people will be safer, right. But it took murder for this to happen. The cab driver debating on going to the police to tell him what they knew, but could he really help put this man away for getting rid of scum from the city, for helping to put an end to these men and their crimes, making their neighborhood safer?

This cab driver is facing a moral dilemma. what would you do???

writing exercise 13: I’m a 12 yr old girl, living on a farm, found diary from 1864

Some people might not have opened…

the small, cobweb filled door in the loft of the barn. But I was a curious young girl and loved secrets. But I’ll tell you how I came upon this door before I get too far ahead of myself.

Me and my older brother were playing baseball with the neighbor boys on my Grandpa Jack and Grandma Jane’s farm. One of the bigger boys hit the ball up into the barn, we thought it went up into the loft. Since I was the lightest, they lifted me up to go find it. As I was walking along the creaking braces, trying hard to balance on the beams and not fall, I finally spotted the ball in the corner. “I found it!” I shouted. A couple of them yelled for me to throw it down so we could finish playing the game. I hurried over to the ball and that’s when I noticed the little door. It was only about half the size of a normal door and slanted on a diagonal with the shape of the roof. I was so intrigued by that door I had never noticed before. I had been up in the rafters before but never over on this side of the barn, since the floor had mostly fallen out. We weren’t allowed over this way. I threw the ball down to the boys though the hole in the floor and told them I’d be down in a minute. My brother didn’t think it was a good idea, he knew I’d get in trouble playing on that side of the barn, but I told him I thought I heard a cat and had to find him. He went on back to the game and didn’t give me another thought.

I opened the door slowly, afraid of what I’d find. The door creaked loudly. The floor was luckily in tact, but I cautiously stepped on it in case it gave way under my weight. There was a little tiny room just barely tall enough for me to stand up straight, I ducked my head a little so it wouldn’t hit the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. There were a few wooden boxes piled up to one side. I brushed the dust off of one to reveal the name Mable. Mable, I thought to myself, what an unusual name. That must be great grandma Mable I’ve heard so much about. My grandma Jane loved her grandma Mable and talked about her all the time. She told so many stories about when she was little that you would have thought they were the same age and lived through the experiences together. It was crazy how much she could recapture the memories just from stories Grandma Mable must have told her. I lifted the top of one of the boxes inside was another box, but it was a round cardboard box, a little dusty and worn. I opened it and found a couple of hats. I tried one on and wished I had a mirror to see how silly I looked in these old fashioned hats. I need to remember to bring a mirror up here with me next time. I pulled back the lid of a second create and found a few tin boxes. I opened them up one by one. One tin box contained photographs. Wow, look at these old black and white pictures. I was mesmerized by the people and wished I knew who they all were. I wanted to ask my grandma but was afraid she would yell at me for being over here. Maybe I’ll take the chance if she’s in a good mood when I get back to the house. I open another tin, there are folded papers and letters inside. I open the last tin and there is a book. I pull out the book and flip though the hand written pages. This must be her diary! I lean over to a crack between the wooden boards which is letting a little light in so I can see what was written. The book was full of entries, most of it was dated in 1864. I skipped around reading a few pages here and there, I was so excited that I couldn’t figure out where to start, I just wanted to know what everything said. This must be why Grandma Jane knows so much about her Grandma Mable. She must know these boxes are up here and read this before. I decide to start from the beginning. I got half way though the first page and my brother is calling me from inside the barn. He said grandma Jane was calling us for lunch. I hurry and put everything back where I found it, but I stuck the diary in my waist band and pull my shirt over it so no one can see it. I can’t let them know I took it but I might not be able to get back up in the barn tonight and I really want to read the rest of this diary to find out more about my family, and maybe some secrets…

writing exercise 12

We had spent the afternoon in a cafe on the Rue Saint-Jacques, a spring afternoon just like any other…

The spring weather was just like any other day, however our moods were not. We couldn’t be happier celebrating the success of our first officially published book. We toasted champagne and ate our fill of food. Clinging out glasses together we both cheered, “To Us!” We couldn’t believe we finally did it. All our hard work was finally paying off. We recounted the steps it took to get to where we were at that moment. Some days it was an uphill struggle. There were times we didn’t think it was good enough or creative enough. There were times when we felt like we didn’t know what we were doing or where the story was going. Some times we flat out got writers block and didn’t write for weeks at a time. Then finally we got back on track. We took a trip to clear our heads and to bring us back to why we started writing this story in the first place. We got so wrapped up in all our new found ideas that we continued to write day after day, hour after hour. Until finally one day we sat back and said, this is it. It’s perfect just the way it is. Now you would think that’s where it ends and we were toasting two days later… but no there was much more. When we finally found we were finished, we realized, it was only the first step. We had to find a publisher who would even acknowledge us. We had to submit the book, we had to jump through this hoop, through that hoop. It took months and months to finally get the green light. And here we sit, celebrating our first book written together, with a contract sitting between us to write another book. We’re so happy our dreams are finally coming true that we don’t want to acknowledge this haunting feeling coming over us… what are we going to write about next???

writing exercise 11

use all 8 symbols in a story from the “gypsy card”

It seems almost impossible for me to go back to that split second when…

I grew into an adult from my teenage years. Maybe because it happens over time, but you think I would know the when it was, right? Thinking back at my childhood I can remember when I didn’t have a care in the world. Arts and Crafts were the best time in school, I always loved art. But I had a hard time cutting a straight line with scissors, I still do for that matter! Then getting a little older, the biggest worry was who I was going to share my “best friends necklaces” with. I had many “best friends” growing up. But the one who has the longest time and still running is the one I shared the yinyang necklace with. I think I was the white yin and she was the black yang, if I’m not mistaken. Speaking of necklaces, when I received my first necklace with a cross on it I felt grown up. It was real gold, I was trusted with real jewelry and felt special. I took CPR classes and learned how to teach kids about the poison symbol and not to touch whatever it was on. If I could be trusted with savings someones life that has to mean I’m grown up. Then I waved my hand to my parents in the stand on graduation day. I had to be grown up then, I was done with high school! Then in college, playing capture the flag (of course the drinking version) it hit me… I was living on my own, playing this game at 3 in the morning and I don’t have to try to sneak back in the house, I’m living on my own. Now, I’m grown up. Then I graduate college and get a job. I have to be sure I get up at least an hour earlier than I normally would in the winter just to scrape last nights snowfall off my car and make it into work on the icy roads and still get there on time. I have the responsibility of not being late to work. Wow now I feel really grown up. Then I realize… I’ve been growing up this whole time. Each day I am more of an adult then I was the day before. This will never end until the day I die…

Writing exercise 10: use 15 specific words italicized… however the forms of the word are changed in some cases making plural or past tense…  (all formed from 4 or more letters from the word CRAVEN) starting with…

I was craving…

some adventure. I had been in the same routine day in and day out for the past year. Nothing changed ever, nothing was exciting anymore. I was in a rut. Then I remembered how much my cousin raved about this hiking trip he took. He was a little vane about the trip so I didn’t get many details, but he did seem so much more laid back when he got back from the trip. So I decided to fly to Tennessee and go hiking in my Grandfathers backyard. It wasn’t, however, just any back yard. He lived on an acre or so of land, the huge field led right to the Smokey Mountains. As soon as I neared his house, I could see him rocking on the porch carving a hunk of wood into a bird of sorts. “What are you making?” I asked him. “Well, it’s a raven,” he replied. “I’ll have it finished by the time you get back.” He picked up his cane and walked into the house with me and made us some supper.

The next morning, feeling not a care in the world, I raced towards the mountains. However I was startled by a loud noise to my right. The neighbors were building and a crane just dropped the load it was carrying. Everyone was scrambling towards the crane. Not such a peaceful start to the morning, I thought. Hopefully once I get away from the houses the adventure will really begin. As soon as I come upon the base of the mountain I am absorbed by nature. The sight is spectacular, the sounds, the smell- I just tried to take it all in. There was so much to see. I snapped pictures of everything: birds, small animals, flowers, even the rocks and dirt. As I continued on my hike and taking pictures of the mountain I noticed a small cave. I was hesitant to check it out, fearing an animal might be inside. I turned on my flash light and carefully poked my head inside the cavern. I didn’t see anything but I heard something, so I booked it out of there. I couldn’t have averred that it was a bear, because I wasn’t certain, but I did not want to find out either. But I say that I earned the bragging rights of successfully climbing the Smokey Mountains and closely averting danger.

Writing Exercise #8

Finish this story…

She Adjusted his bow tie…

making it extra straight for this extra special occasion. She kissed him on the cheek leaving lipstick residue behind which he wiped away with the back of his hand, and wiggled out of her tight squeeze. She couldn’t help but squeeze him tight, she didn’t want to let him go. He walked away quickly, but remembered to turn and wave before he got too far out of sight. He took his spot in line just before the group marched up onto the stage. They sat in unison on the folding chairs aligned in straight rows. An older man approached the microphone on the stage and his loud voice boomed over the loud speakers. A high pitched squeal made everyone cover their ears and cringe. He continued with his speech without so much as a pause. He then began reading name after name as they filed by shaking his hand and grabbing their diplomas. Pictures snapped, proof shown with flashing lights. The crowd cheered and clapped in groups periodically after each name was read.  Then it was Connor’s turn, his name was read and a big smile plastered across his face. He waved back to the teary eyed woman who had recently spread red lipstick all over his cheek. As soon as the the hats flew up into the air, little Connor raced over to her screaming, “I did it, Mom, I did it!” “You sure did son, you’re such a big boy now, going into first grade.”  She was very proud of him, even if he was only graduating from Kindergarten. He had been though so much the past year she didn’t think she could make it, let alone him make it though his first year of school. “Do you think he was watching mom?” He asked innocently, looking up waiting for her answer. Choking back the tears for the hundredth time that night she knew she had to stay strong for him. She replied, “Yes honey, I think he was watching you from heaven.”

writing exercise 7

 

“I don’t usually hit the ground running…

 

And yesterday was no exception.” Madalyn stated matter-of-factly to her friend Makenzie, while eating lunch at a little outside bistro. She took a huge drink of her lemonade and continued, “You see, yesterday my boss gave me this huge project and said it was due by the end of the day. But I had to get all these facts and details from all my co-workers before I could begin. I tried to be proactive about it and started a mass email to the entire office. But I got side tracked answering phone calls and emails. When I finally noticed I hadn’t sent the email yet it yet it was just before lunch, so no one got back to me. I started getting a few emails back after lunch but had to remind a few people to give me their information…”

“uh-huh” Makenzie added, “I know how you feel, I hate that you have to harass people for them to answer your questions”

“I know, it’s horrible. Just give me the damn information the first time I ask,” Madalyn continued on her rampage.

“Well, did you get it done?” Makenzie interrupted when there was a pause, as Madalyn took the last bite of her sandwich and licked her fingers clean.

“Yes, but I had to work overtime. I didn’t get to leave until after 6pm.”

“Well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.” Makenzie snickered.

“Ooh speaking of cookies, lets get dessert!”

writing exercise 5

(4 textures of a slinky and of a scarf, use the 8 words in this story starting with…)

Late Night City Streets Were The Perfect Backdrop For…

smooth talking men on a first date. The couple walks down the bendy road staring up at the bright stars. With his Rough exterior she is surprised at his soft spoken words as she leads him to the door of her house.  The smooth talking male leans in for a hard passionate kiss at the end of the date. He lays his hand on the small of the thin womans back. He feels the fluffy sweater between the ridges of his fingers. And they finally kiss for the first time. She walks through the door and closes it quickly as she leaves him standing there, wanting more.

Writing exercise #4 (using 7 specific condiments in the story- in italics)

His Taste In Women was…

…like no other. He didn’t care for the model type. He thought woman who were thin looked sick. He liked them plump, not even normal size woman were good enough. And forget the blond hair and blue eyes. They had to have brown hair just like he did. Brown eyes, just like he did. He wanted them to look alike as much as possible. He sounds very narcissistic, but he wanted a perfect family and wanted his kids to look just like him and his wife. The most important part of the woman was that she had to love food just as much as he did. He was, after all, a chef so he cared about food almost as much as he cared about the perfect type of woman for him. Finally, Chef Roy found his perfect woman. She matched everything he asked for in a woman and he asked her to marry him. When he proposed she couldn’t help but notice a piece of relish stuck between his teeth so she laughed. He assumed she was mocking him so he went back into the kitchen and went on a rampage throwing things everywhere. She ran after him but it was too late for the kitchen. Mustard and Ketchup and Mayonnaise were all over the floor and walls. She slipped on the condiments on the floor. Chef Roy tried catching her but they both toppled to the floor laughing. She accepted his proposal on the floor and then explained why she laughed. He was so relieved and said, “oh Hot Pepper,” her pet name, “you just made me the happiest chef in all the restaurants of the world.” She replied, “Oh Chef Soy Sauce, I love you.” They were married only a month later. The colors were green and yellow and their centerpieces consisted of Celery stalks, mustard seed plants and Pickles. And they lived happily ever after.

The End