Week Four Creative Writing Class

Monday:

Try this 4.1 From Imaginative Writing:

(name) is a (adj.) -year-old (noun) who wants ______.

Thalia is a forgetful but dedicated 15-year-old who wants nothing more than to take care of her horse who is her buddy.

What makes that character:

-giggle: Her buddy stealing a bite of hay before she has set it down.

-wince: When her buddy accidentally steps on her foot.

-shout: When someone tries to be mean to her buddy.

-gag: When her buddy eats her favorite treat, licorice, which she only gets from the bus driver.

-go quiet: When she knows she has to give up her buddy for both of them.

Choose one and create a situation around it: Go quiet

She had spent many years with her buddy but now that she was at college and engaged she knew she was moving on into a new chapter of her life. She didn’t want to give up her buddy, but it was becoming harder to see her buddy and she was growing new hobbies and requirements in her life that she felt guilty for pursuing with she still had her buddy. Her grandpa sat across the table and had asked what she wanted to do with her buddy. She didn’t want to immediately say to give her away since doing so felt like she was betraying her best friend. However, her buddy was growing weak and bored from lack of being ridden and hung out with. Thalia knew that if she gave him away then some other girl would be able to hand out and love her buddy as much as she used to. But she stayed silent, not able to let the words out. Thankfully, her grandpa understood and didn’t make her say it.

Try this 4.2 From Imaginative Writing: Character’s grabage

In the grabage sat five broken hairties from this week only. Fallen soldiers in the fight to tame her hair. Sprinkled on top were little flakes of pink nail polish that she had picked off while doing homework. There was also a mountain of pencil shavings, not because she wrote a lot but because the pencil’s sharpness never seemed to her satisfaction. Under it all was one of her favorite t-shirts that had finally become unwearable since the most recent love nibbles from her buddy that ended in a hole that had grown bigger throughout the week until her grandpa told her she wasn’t allowed to wear it anymore.

Try this 4.3 From Imaginative Writing: monologue for the character

“If there is anything i can’t it is when people who have never owned a horse tell you what to do with them. My buddy is my bestest friend in the world! Universe! She is the biggest spoiled brat on the planet. Surely the queen doesn’t live in such luxury, but noooooooo. Some liberal comes by and sees me with my spurs and they think I’m trying to kick holes into her! I would bet all the money in the world that she has never ridden a horse. Sure, there are dopes that use spurs to harm horses, but that’s not what 99% of horse owners use them for and certainly not what they were created for!”

“I mean, if I went up to a dog owner calling them puppy enslavers because they put a leash on a dog how stupid would I look? If I went up to them and said they were choking their dog that would be absurd! If you have a dog and know how to use a lease you know it doesn’t hurt them, but every Sally, Toby, and Tammie has to try to save the world by telling me I am abusing my horse. I am not a two-year-old. I am not pointing my spurs at my buddy’s belling and kicking straight in. The spurs stay parallel to the stomach and all you do is tap them with it. It is meant to be more specific of a command to your horse and more subtle in shows. Not to mention even if I did do a full windup and kick buddy, which goodness to honest I would cry if I did, it wouldn’t hurt her. Horses are built to withstand the kicks of other horses and even a small one could kill a human. Do people really think my scrawny legs could hurt buddy if I wanted to? I’m fine with people wanting to save the environment and stop animal abuse, but do you think those hippies would take two seconds to talk to a professional to ask why we do what we do? Honestly!”

Try this 4.4 From Imaginative Writing: two people talking (one can’t talk)

1: “Hey, did you see Jessica’s outfit today? Who does she think she is? Terrible walking around looking like that”

2: Raises an eyebrow and nods at person one’s clothing.

1: “Excuse me? This shirt was a gift. Anyways, did you see what she was eating? 3 slices of pizza! She is going to be to fat for those clothes soon anyway.”

2: Frowns and looks at person one with concern.

1: “Yes, I know. I have been trying to eat more like you said, but it’s hard looking this good. Is it really a bad thing wanted to look good?”

2: Expression softens and looks caringly at person one.

1: “Stop, I don’t want to cry right now okay. I have been talking to a therapist and she had the same opinion as you.”

2: Give a teasing I told you look and breaks up laughing.

1: “alright, alright. I get it. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Describe an object: Water bottle

It holds about three cups of life-giving liquid. The kind that soothes, calms, fulfills and quenches. There is the knowledge that it is clear, but it camouflages the bottle's red hue, shining like a stained glass window. “Well, why not have a cup you ask”. This is better, not only does it enclose it just so that no drop can be wasted or spilled, but with a push of a button the lid flips right open. Even more, the part you sip from is just as impressive since it caters to all kinds of mouths. Have you ever tried to take a drink and the mouth is so wide that water spills out of the side of your lips? Have you ever felt like you were dying of thirst and couldn’t get the water to come out fast enough? Well, this water bottle solves both problems. Its sleek design has a small tiny opening that protrudes partially out in order to guide the water into your mouth. There is no straw to slow its journey to your mouth and no gaping hole to trick up sloppy drinkers. The curve of its base might as well be a portal to another universe. It warps all that passes behind it and magnifies all. The center disk wobbles and wiggles, its own little universe between air and water. A magic barrier keeping strict rules no matter how many bumps and spills. If you tip it it elongates to keep everything separated. It is the guardian keeping chaos from ensuing until you can take your drink. Drinking is the water’s only escape from the strict tyranny of the circle. It works hard day and night until every drop has been drunk. It only rests when the bottom is dry and waits until it is refilled upon which it returns to bring order to the bottle.

Five most interesting lines:

It is the guardian keeping chaos from ensuing until you can take your drink.

The center disk wobbles and wiggles, its own little universe between air and water.

There is the knowledge that it is clear, but it camouflages the bottle's red hue, shining like a stained glass window.

Drinking is the water’s only escape from the strict tyranny of the circle.

It only rests when the bottom is dry and waits until it is refilled upon which it returns to bring order to the bottle.

An in-class letter in response to Tyre’s death:

I don’t really know what happened. Part of me wants to remain ignorant and not know but whatever happened I know that it happens all too often. There are bad people in every community but when someone’s sole purpose is good and justice, a bad person in that community can ruin the honor of all those around. I weep for the family of he who was slain, but I can not help but fear that people will lose faith in our protectors because of it. Fewer and fewer people even want to take on the responsibility of being protectors because of the growing negative view of them. For the crime of their brethren, they are beaten, hated, and defunded. It is so easy to say be rid of them, but without the protectors, there is only anarchy and more crime. If there are people who believe that the protectors have become insufficient, they should put effort into the better training and money needed to support better protectors. But instead, people rush in saying they should be gotten rid of. But who will the blame be put on when there are no protectors and the world is in chaos?

Workshop off of “But I am a good person…”:

“... but I am a good person.” She said in defense

didn’t matter what she had done, in her mind it made sense

Sure she had done bad things from time to time

Cheated on an exam or got out of a fine

She stole food from the market but gave it to the needy

lied on her taxes but wouldn’t call it greedy

What if she had killed a person? Would it matter the cause?

Would there be reasoning that’s okay? One worth a pause?

What makes a person bad? What makes them good?

Are these questions that are often misunderstood?

Humans are wholly good and completely bad

This is the reason that God is so sad

On the first day of creation, He looked and He saw

“It was very good” and this is what we are

But is that where it ends? What was designed at creation?

No… for through sin we have lost that station

For we who sinned alone cannot be good

But there is hope once this is understood

For with Christ in our heart, from evil we can be saved

But does that make us good? Is our way to heaven paved?

The answer is not for us to know in the present

But to live in hope of hearing, “Well done good and faithful servant”

Wednesday:

Try this 4.8 From Imaginative Writing: Character in a working situation

To young for a 9 to 5, to old to enjoy life doing nothing. From the moment the alarm screams in the morning to kissing her buddy goodnight there is work. From homework to scooping poop. From feeding her buddy to feeding herself. Nothing is leisure for it must be done. It is not miserable and can even be fun but in the back of the mind it is still work. Yes it is fun to ride, but her buddy MUST be ridden. Yes some food is delicious, but she MUST eat. Some teachers are fun, but she MUST go to class. Some homework is fulfilling, but it MUST be done. While not all the “MUSTS” are hard, that requirement of doing can be a heavy weight on the shoulders. A MUST can take a fun ride and make it a task. The MUSTS of life can make life feel a little less free.

In class freewrite about light:

Light is a blessing. It allows us to see. To see not only what is right in front of us, but to see the color, blessed color. It can reflect and show us its color. It can refract and show us its color. We can not see it when it comes all at once for it is too powerful for us to behold. Instead we must understand it in pieces, broken apart for us to understand. We can see bits of light and color in everything as it reflect off the world, but if we want to see and understand light in its purest forms and colors it must first be broken. As science has shown there are many fancy ways of doing this using crystals and filaments, but one of the most purest forms would be in a rainbow. Up in the sky light become broken apart to show us its beauty. This too is true with God. He is light and color. He sheds light on the world around us but is too powerful too comprehend all at once. But He lets us see Him in digestible segments.

Write 300 words about one of the characters from the past assignments: The girl who didn’t eat

She always gossiped about other girls and how they looked and ate. Breaking down everything they did and making them feel terrible about themselves. Most people wrote her off as a bully and never talked to her and tried to ignore the things she said, but one girl was her friend. She didn’t talk much, but she knew that everything bad that the girl did was just a reflection of how the girl talked to herself in the mirror. She didn’t let her get away with it and would too frequently give her the look that stated “be nice, you don’t mean it”. The other struggle that her friend tried to help her through was that she had trouble eating. Since a beautiful body had became so important to her she abused it and tried everything she could to make it look what she thought was beautiful. Sometimes she would go all day without eating and nearly pass out in classes. However, with the help of her friend she was slowly recovering. She had begun to go to a therapist and was beginning to eat more. And even though her judging monster would speak up every now and then and she would have to apologize and admit to whoever she hurt that she did not mean what she said. This continued for a while and people were beginning to forgive her and warm up to her. After a while she even began liking herself again. Not because she was beautiful or skinny, but because she chose to love herself and work on the person that she wanted to be in character and emotion.

Freewrite about the space you are sitting in for 20min:

Sitting high up on the chair is hard on the hips and legs, but staging for hours it worse. Instead a combo is made. Sit a few, stand a few, gently sway a few, and pace around the store. The food all around beacons to be eaten, but there are few healthy option and all are expensive. In order to keep the wallet and body healthy the temptation must be ignored. Time may feel like it is going slowly and the room is like a fishbowl where I am the fish, but it will pass. The drinks must be stocked, the food as well. The work is never done. Homework can not be touched until the store is clean, but for the life of me I can never tell if the work is done and the homework can begin. So I begin the homework because I know that I will not have enough ime to complete it and that the only way to keep my sanity is by working on it now. So I slave away through the tiredness, praying my boss doesn’t come inspect to make sure everything is done. Because even though I have done everything I can think of, I know they would be able to find something that I missed. However, as the minutes ooze by I begin to care less and less. As long as the work is done when I switch over I surely won’t get in trouble. So I will do my homework until a customer comes in and it has to be set aside until I attack it again. Even when I am not working on it it hangs over my head. I worry about it like it is a mold growing needing to be cleaned. Like a monster trying to consume me. How will I ever slay the monster. Every waking moment is spent typing. Working. Trying. I put it on pause and give the monster to the Lord because even though it is small in His eyes, I know I will never defeat it without Hom. Without Him all I can do is hold it off as it grows larger and larger throughout the semester. If I don’t ask for help before it is too late it will be too big to conquer, for God can conquer all things but if we wait too long to ask Him for help He may let us fail so that we are able to learn. Fall down so that next time we know to ask for help when we are having trouble walking. Oh Lord guide my every steps. This semester is a huge hill in front of me. I want to proclaim Your name at the top of the hill, but am terrified of failing, therefore I am tempted not to try. Please help me because I am already falling before I have even begun climbing. Carry me! Carry me Lord for I am weak and You are strong. Let me give everything to You so that You can do it the right way. Help me do the impossible, I don’t need the fame or success. Only for people to see what You can do through me. I am tired before the race has begun. I am distracted before the lecture has started. I am not ready and will never be ready so I am jumping out of the nest with hope and trust that you will teach me how to fly because otherwise the only thing left to do is fall. Help me to do all I can do and to not be consumed by my work along the way. Keep me working and moving for you. Give me rest when I need it and the ability to push through when it is required. Help me push through the voices of doubt and to accept You as the only opinion I care about. I want You and You alone. Please, let every aspect of my life flourish and not be brushed aside. Let my marriage abound and my friends grow. I want to be able to do your work and not worry about whether or not I will survive it. I trust I will bend, I trust I will break, but I also trust that you can still use me and heal me. Rebuild me how I should have grown. I have grown twisted and outside of the path You have set for me. I understand roots will be broken and branches will be lost, but I want it to happen if that means I can grow in the graden You have made for me. I want to bear fruits that bring glory to Your name. Help me God! I trust You and You alone.

Freewrite about a random contemporary character:

Thalia woke up to the loud ring of her alarm clock and she bopped the top to stop the little ring of the bells that had made the hands on the clock vibrate. She did not want to leave her pillow fort of a bed, with its army of blankets, but she couldn’t let down her bud. She kept her warmest blanket wrapped around her shoulders as a shield as she left the fort. The floor was cold beneath her feet but, no matter the number of slippers she had received as gifts, she would rather her feet be cold than bound by the little fuzzy prisons. She went straight to the bathroom to brush her teeth since she knew that she would forget if she waited till after breakfast. Her nose wiggled as her brush tickled her teeth and she soon let the blanket fall to the floor as she began to wake up. After rinsing her mouth she began to battle her curly brown hair into a top bun not bothering to brush it. She did not bother with makeup or plucking her unruly eyebrows, her buddy wouldn’t care. She didn’t even bother changing out of her sleeping t-shirt, but instead slipped a bra on underneath and swapped into her jeans. She didn’t even bother matching her socks since they wouldn’t be visible under her boots and even if they were, her buddy wouldn’t care. Realizing that she had spent to much time doddaling she grabbed a muffin for breakfast on the way out the door. It didn’t matter if she needed to skip breakfast before school, as long as her buddy didn’t have to. The bus would be here soon so she needed to go get her buddy. Walking into the big red building she set her muffin on the windowsill to grab when she was done. She gave a shrill whistle and a chestnut mare stuck her head out of the stall.

“Hi buddy!” The mare replied with a happy whinny. Thalia gave her a quick kiss before running to get the haybail. Once again she had forgotten a pocketknife to open the haybail so she hiked it up onto her hip and pulled on the string while pushing with her hip. Soon the string slipped off and the bail exploded. She had to do that almost every day because she could never remember to grab the knife her grandpa had given her. It’s okay, her method worked, it only hurt her fingers a little from the twine, but she would do anything for her buddy. She picked up a couple flakes of hay in her arms and began to carry them over to the stall. Her buddy greedily bit into it before she even threw it in cause it to fall everywhere.

“Buddy! Chill dude. I am working on it.” After she got all the hay into the stall she grabbed the wheelbarrow to muck out the stall before the bus came.

“Shoot!” She ran to the water trough where she could hear the water overflowing. The ground was a muddy mess. She had clearly left the water on overnight. It always took a long time for the water trough to fill so she usually went on with otherthings while it had filled but she must have been too tired last night and left it on. She knew she would hear a mouthful from her grandpa when she got home for school about it. She threw hay down on the mud, a waste of money for sure, but if she let buddy stand all day in the mud her hooves would rot so she would have to give her something safer to stand on. She barely had finished mucking out the stall when she saw the bright yellow bus coming to a stop at the end of the long driveway.

“No!” She looked at buddy.

“I know we’re not supposed to do this.” She threw her backpack on and opened the stall door, jumping on her buddy’s back. They sped down the driveway and got in view of the bus driver right before he was about to drive off.

“Wait!” She and buddy gallopped all the way to the door. The bus driver laughed at the familiar sight.

“I thought your grandpa told you not to do that.” He pet her buddy as she poked her muzzle in the door and gave a piece of licorice out of his private stash. Thalia smiled and put her finger to her lips. She jumped off giving her buddy a friendly slap on the rump.

“Get back in your stall before grandpa sees you.” Buddy did a bouncy trot down the driveway. All the kid’s on the bus waved her buddy off and they went off to school.

Friday:

Try this 5.1 From Imaginative Writing: A walk through you childhood home

My brother and I sat on the rooftop. Such a thing would not have been well received in the states, but here we could sit on the flat rooftop. It was rough, white, and often wet but the perfect place to play and look at the landscape. Our snow-tipped warrior and the sleeping lady stood at the edge of our world slightly purple against the blue sky. There was not much green as in the states, but that did not mean that there was a lack of color. Beautiful colors in the streets, sky, food, and people. When living there it wasn’t hard to call it home, but looking back it’s hard not to remember it as one remembers a dream. Random but vivid flashes of views, feelings, tastes, and touches, but hardly a cohesive story. Loose bricks and walls. My brother guiding along the path beside the street to buy fresh blue tortillas. Over tiny bumps, hills, and roots as though the streets and houses had grown there. No sidewalks cracked by suffocated roots, only paths in the dirt and trees that lent their roots and steps for tiny feet. We did not need to know the language. A smile and handful of change at the counter and the sweet old lady knew what to give us. Every other house had a small market in their garage to make a tiny living. Always friendly, slow, and happy. Never trying to close their neighbors' stores down. Never rushing us as we peered in each case. Never annoyed at our lack of language. Happy to point, kneel, and pink up each thing until he found what we needed. But the older I get the more the smiles fade, and the smells are forgotten. Every pebble and flower that had once been our whole world started to slip into dreamland in the back of my mind. Forgotten until something triggers a small moment to remind me of things I’d all but forgotten. Small things bring tears to my eyes and I want to scream my apologies for every memory that I’d forgotten. The neighbor's kids that we had played with for hours even when we couldn’t understand them. I am sorry to my classmates that I hadn’t even said goodbye to because I was too young to understand that I would never see them again. I’m sorry Mexico, I miss you.

Try this 5.2 From Imaginative Writing: A chair

The best chairs are the ones that are lumpy and bumpy. Old and saggy. The ones grandma had sat in every night for years. The one that used to rock but had broken. The one she sat in any way. The one she rarely sat alone in. She sat with a kid or cat in her lap at all times. That was the best chair.

A Stranger getting off the bus:

His foot caught the edge of the step as the bus took off beneath him. With moves fit for an ice skater he steadied himself on the sidewalk. He could feel his face stoking the fire of embarrassment as he scanned the crowd hoping no eyes had followed his impromptu performance. No eyes, all good. People were too enthralled by the announcement of bus times. He was safe… except, he locked eyes with a woman. Within the business of the crowd, she swayed awaiting his encore performance.

Class Freewrite about Navajo Monument Valley Tribal School:

Like a water hole in the middle of the desert so sat the track. Mud and sand are hard to run through so the school cut a neat circle of running terf through the landscape. In the center of the track grew the only green thing for miles and it was most likely fake. There were no lights to illuminate a late-night game, nor stand in which to watch it. There were no parking lots for moms and fans to join. Only a track and field below the red rock of the mountain. People did not go there for glory, no meddles would be awarded on this track and no cheerleader would dance on this field. It was built for those who wanted to work hard and get better. The work done alone in the wilderness is the hardest. No one watches how hard and long you run, no one sees you covered in mud. You are there for yourself and no one else.

Class Freewrite rewriting a cliche: stars like diamonds:

His figure was barely visible. He sat close yet his movements flashed like an old film, each frame captured separately with the twinkling of the stars. Though his face was not visible she knew he was smiling for the stars danced in his eyes. The silent film continued before her eyes as he laughed, cried, and smiled. If it were a film she would have created a loop of that moment to repeat forever in her mind. One flicker, smile. One flicker, laugh. One flicker, cry. One flicker, kiss.

Class Freewrite using two concepts from list: midnight on the farm+ danger

The dust from the hay coated him from head to toe. Bits and pieces had fallen down the of his shirt. However, as he rose from his hiding spot he knew it was not the only thing making a shiver run down his spine. The horses had long bolted at first sight of the shadowy figure. But from his loft of hay, he had stayed and watched. Among the hens, he had sat in his nest to peer at the figure below. Such dark fur could not be seen in the night but was coarse enough to be heard brushing against the wood and hay. Though a thick layer of sawdust covered the floor you could hear the clicking of claws on wood.