Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Writing Exercise Wednesday #52

Well, I made it, I did it, 52 writing exercises. One a week for a year. Almost all of them on time! This is the last writing exercise. Unless I get a flood of people begging me to continue. hahahahahahahaha  I'm a funny girl.  ANYWAY, I've enjoyed the exercises. It kept me writing when I didn't want to write. It made me go on. And I always have fun doing it no matter how it turns out. And that's an excellent thing. Thanks for viewing and if in the future you need a writing exercise idea, feel free to come back. I may keep the blog going with other stuff but just not sure yet. But, it's been fun. Let's do it again sometime. :-D  

Prompt: Fuse, community, proceed, towel


I got a frantic call last night from my best friend Cynthia. This is how it went.

Cynthia: Hannah!
Me: What's the matter? Are you okay?
Cynthia: No. (sobbing)
Me: Tell me.
Cynthia: I just colored my hair.
Me: With that new box from the store? That was a great color. Didn't it turn out?
Cynthia: I don't know.
Me: What do you mean? What's it look like?
Cynthia: I can't tell.
Me: Cyn.
Cynthia: I was drying my hair with a towel and I tied it around my head.
Me: And?
Cynthia: It fused to my hair.
Me: What! The towel is fused to your hair? Seriously?
Cynthia: Y-yes.
Me: Oh my god!
Cynthia: That's what I said.
Me: Don't move. I'll be right there.

I rounded up the girls and the four of us formed a community of beauticians around Cynthia. Her mother would have killed her, so we had to fix this crisis ourselves.

We proceeded to cut the hair where it wasn't attached to the towel. There was a nasty burnt smell to it. When we were done, her hair was uneven everywhere.

Hannah decided we could give her a new haircut. So we washed out her hair and snipped away. Each of us taking a turn. Sometimes in a crisis situation, I get a nervous laugh. But I was very proud of myself that I managed to hide it whenever it bubbled up. Especially not knowing if her mom was going to walk in or her nosy little sister.

We stepped back and all of us gasped. Hannah was terrified. I gave her a smile and the mirror.

Her jaw fell open.
She looked beautiful.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Writing Exercise Wednesday #51

Down to the final 2 writing exercises. Not sure what I'll do with the blog, if anything. Maybe use it for SCBWI events going on. Anyway, today's is a fun one. But what other kind is there?! :-D

WEW #51

Below are great first lines from books. You can use it as a first line or last line or even just a jumping off point. I ended up using 2 of them and wrote 2 exercises. Go to it!

"The woods were silent, other than the screaming." The Game of Sunken Places by M.T. Anderson

"Our toilet broke on the day of the night that changed my life, and it nearly ruined everything." A Heart Divided by Cherie Bennett and Jeff Gottesfeld

"The ghost stood on the church stairs, watching, waiting, for Catherine." The Presence by Eve Bunting

"' you think the school will make me give back the tiara?” I asked my best friend, Mina." High School Bites by Liza Conrad

"She never says good-bye and so I never know when she'll be gone." The Window by Michael Dorris

"When the doorbell rings at three in the morning, it's never good news." Stormbreaker by Anthony Horowitz


    The doorbell woke me up. The digital read three o’clock. In the morning.
    Noises down the hall were my parents, mostly grumbling and something about getting the bat.
    I hopped out of bed, snuck out quietly and followed Dad down the stairs.
    He flicked on the light. I froze, blinded. I squinted at him.
    Dad crossed his arms and shook his head at me.
    “What?” I asked.
    “Get down here.”
    I scurried next to him or mostly behind him as he grabbed the door handle.
    He cracked the door, then threw it wide open.
    “Jake,” Dad whispered.
    Jake smiled. “Dad.”
    I ran out from behind Dad and grabbed my brother around the middle so hard. I would never let go. “You’re home.”
    I heard sobbing. We turned and Mom collapsed on the stairs, tears running away.
    When the doorbell rings at three in the morning, it’s never good news. Except tonight it was.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Writing Exercise Wednesday #50

I did it again! Last night I thought, I didn't post my exercise today. In my defense, I've been preparing for a writing retreat this weekend, and working, and my kitty hasn't been well this week. Excuses, excuses. 
But I'm here now with a different exercise. The prompts are built around punctuation. How you perceive the information. I took two sentences and changed punctuation so there are four to choose from. Interesting how each one brings different ideas to mind.


No way it's my fault.
No, way. It's my fault.
No way it's your fault.
No, way. It's your fault.

     "No, way. It's my fault." Jack's hands covered his face. "If I had been around more. Paid more attention. Checked on her more often. She wouldn't be dead." Jack looked up. "I'm so sorry Sean."
     Sean put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Dad, it's okay. I'll get another fish."

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Writing Exercise Wednesday #49

Getting near the end of one year of writing exercises. The nice thing about exercises is that they can be one sentence, one paragraph or one page. Anything goes. It's fun once you get the words to see what pictures form in your mind, what words float to the surface and what results (or where it leads) is always an adventure and surprise.

WEW #49

Prompt: ragged, identity, county fair, curl

    Little Missy Johnston ran to the county fair with her ragged curls flailing behind her. It was time to discover the identity of her nemesis in the Best Pig in the County competition. And it better not be Fancy Harmony. Missy would do whatever it took not to lose to her again.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Writing Exercise Wednesday #48

On this fine January 2, 2013 day, why not start off the new year with a writing exercise! Get those creative juices flowing and showing and jump starting your writing fever. Let's go!

WEW #48

Prompt: easel, paradox, revolving, threaten,


She globbed. She stroked. She splattered.
Kareen's paintbrush flew across her easel. Each effort turning more and more aggressive until she stabbed right through her canvas. She fumed at the paradox of her art exercising a calming effect on her yet dying to puncture every color she used.
She figured out the source of her anger.  Abby.
Kareen stared at her un-masterpiece.
She used to take pride in her revolving door relationships. Now she felt threatened with Abby in the picture. Kareen had finally found the one guy for her just as her floozy of a sister showed up. Abby had ruined more of Kareen's relationships than Kareen had. But no way was she going to let it happen again this time.
No. Way.