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Writing Exercise (1/31/08)
*waves hello to all the writers out there*  I'm back with another writing exercise.

Write about an emotion.  Do it from your perspective or that of a character.  Just don't name the specific emotion.  So, nothing like, "He felt so angry he wanted to punch someone."

If you'd like to share some exercises or prompts of your own, feel free to comment on this post.  Or if you write something in response to this exercise and want to share it, comment or send me a link.  I would, of course, love to see what you wrote.  But you're not obligated to share.  In other words, do whatever you want with this.  I just hope it proves useful for someone.   If you'd like to see the previous exercises I've posted, just click on the tag below.  Happy writing!

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I think I suck at these, but it never hurts to try, right? Creativity needs exercise as much as any other muscle I suppose. Thanks for forcing my lazy brain into gear. (If so inclined, I posted the fruits of my exercise on my LJ).

I'm sure your response didn't suck, and even if it did, that's ok. I write some pretty craptastic stuff. If it makes you feel better, I just posted my own response, and believe me, it won't be winning any awards. *g*

You can't learn without trying new things, and trying new things means you'll fail sometimes. That's ok. :) The point of these is just to get some practice.

Thanks for letting me know you tried this; I'll scoot on over to your journal to take a peek.

My response:

She tossed a few bills on the table, silencing his protests with a pointed glance, and slid out of the booth. Setting his coffee cup down, he stared out the window and watched her go. Sunlight caught the red in her hair and set it on fire. In less than thirty seconds, she made it to the curb and stepped off into the street. His stomach tightened and his breath stuttered in his throat as he noticed that she hadn't looked to see if any cars were in her path. It was just so her to charge ahead and expect the world to make way, while conveniently ignoring the fact that skin, muscle, and bone were no match for monsters of steel and rubber.

Every few weeks when he peered at his reflection, he found a new strand of gray in his hair and knew it was her fault. He'd aged five years since he met her. Every time he watched her walk away from him, her long legs eating up the ground and razor-sharp mind focused on the next challenge, it took months off his life.

One day she might walk without seeing what was in front of her or jab her fist in the wrong man's face, so today he watched her go until his eyes blurred and he could no longer pick her out from all the other people outside.

Edited at 2008-01-31 08:36 pm (UTC)

That actually made me feel the emotion you were writing about - so I'd say it was a success! I am going to have a go at this later, maybe :)

Ha, i don't think i can do this. I can try though! *Files it away in the to do later box*
Thanks for the idea though!

My response is at my LJ. And I have successfully procrastinated for another hour! Score! (I am supposed to be out shopping for a SuperBowlPartyExtravaganza! but that isn't really happening right now.)

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