Tuesday, February 18, 2014

The Rewrite of Yesterday's Exercise

My dear friend Charlie commented on the last post and - unbeknownst to him - reminded me of all the things that were missing from the writing exercise. There were no sensory details to inform and show the reader where and who and what the characters were. So my little brain started churning right at bedtime, of course. I decided to post a rewrite to see the difference it makes and all the things I need to think about when writing even an exercise. I said I was rusty at this. Thanks Charlie. I don't doubt that there are many more things to add, but for now, it was another good exercise!

Rewrite:
     A snotty teen, who still had a home and family, went to the recruiter’s office to join the army. Walking a mile in the grey, debris-filled streets, he could barely separate one area from another. He breathed in the air mixed with dust. He kicked at the smaller rocks with his holey shoes. Fighting for his rights, fighting to save his country. 
     This was something he wanted to do.
     Wailing began outside in the gutter. The pitch and passion in it made anyone left in the street turn with fright. The teen's mother couldn't bear to have her only child go off to war. She had seen the disturbing affect amongst her friends who even dared to come out of their houses.
     A sergeant went outside to console the mother. He'd been through it enough. He knew exactly what to say. It was never easy to deal with the family whether the kids were enlisting or being returned to their families for burial.
     The teen watched paralyzed from the waiting room. 
     Nothing the sergeant said could convince or quiet the grieving mother. She knew she'd never see her son again.
     The teen, touched and a little embarrassed by the love his mother displayed, decided to go home and discuss it some more with his mom and dad.
     The boy fixed the scarf around his mother and helped her home. They heard the familiar whistle of missiles firing overhead. The mother didn’t even bother to cover her ears anymore.
     The smoke rising from their neighborhood sent them hurrying towards it. The remains of a bomb-destroyed house were all that was left of their life. No husband and father, no home. Their side of the street looked like many parts of the city now. A war zone.
     The teen's newly widowed mother stood in shock. Tears ran down the boy's face. He smeared the tears and dirt with the back of his hand.
    He looked at his mother. They stared at each other for a while. Together, they turned around. Hand in hand, they walked back to the recruiter's office. 
     This was something he had to do.

Monday, February 17, 2014

Funnily enough... I want to do writing exercises again

While I did a bunch of writing/rewriting last year, I found that in the time between or when I'm not writing at all, I still needed to do something. So I'm starting up the writing exercises again. And I can also post all the SCBWI CenCal events going on with reports on how they went. Why not?!

I just did a writing exercise and wanted to post it. I feel a little out of practice but that's okay. They're not meant to be edited - unless they lead to a story. :-)
Please join in here or in the comfort of your own writing space, if you'd like.

Writing Prompt: console, gutter, recruit, snotty

     A snotty teen, thinking he knew everything, decided to join the army. With no knowledge of it, outside of movies and video games, he signed up at the recruiter's office.
     Wailing began outside in the gutter. The teen's mother was beside herself and couldn't bear to have her only child go off to war.
     A sergeant went outside to console the mother. He'd been through it enough. He knew exactly what to say.
     The teen watched horrified from the waiting room.
     Nothing the sergeant said could convince or quiet the grieving mother. She was certain she'd never see her son again.
     The teen, so touched by the love his mother displayed, decided to go home and discuss it some more with his family.
     The boy helped his mother home. When they got there, the remains of a bomb-destroyed house was all that was left of their belongings. Including the husband and father. Their whole street looked like a war zone.
     The teen's newly widowed mother stared in shock. Tears ran down the boy's face.
     They turned around. Together, hand in hand, they walked back to the recruiter's office.