We started this blog to share our love of well...everything... with anyone who happens to stop by, which would mean you, if you're reading this. I want to talk about writing...write about writing, actually, because I love writing.
Not long ago, I went to a discovery day at a college in our area (I'm actually attending that humble institution at this moment) and got to sit in on a sample writing class. Our teacher handed out some books and told us to search through and find five verbs, five adjectives and five nouns.
I came up with five nouns: deep, trawler, moment, star, farm
five verbs: changed, running, peek, breathing, ruled
and five adjectives: brief, brilliant, beautiful, smooth, lazy
By this point, I was wise to her, so I guess I was cheating a little, because I knew she was going to tell us to write something surrounding those words. It's a great exercise, really, something that's definitely worthwhile to try. Even if you don't think you can write, give it a go, you'll stretch your imagination a little further.
I wrote away happily, wondering what everyone else was creating out of the words they had selected. When I write, even a short story, I find its important to create a background, to put more in than I write down. As I wrote, I could see a sweeping hill, a barn, a curve of beach and the ocean running into the distance.
I think I was done before most everybody, some people read their creations and I sat there, getting more and more nervous. There's something about being last I always like, it's a little like putting a period at the end of a sentence, or dotting an 'i'.
With a pounding heart, I read what I had written and when I had finished, there was a dead silence in the room.
This is what I wrote:
The last stars were fading from the sky when the smooth fingers of the tide lifted the fishing trawler from the beech and set it floating lazily in the deep. The movement of the tide was like breathing, running to and fro, as predictable as the cows that came to the farm gate to be milked at the same moment every morning.
The coolness of morning was brief, already the sailors had ruled it time to be out on the brilliant water with their fishing nets. The sky had changed, but like the tide and the cows peeking through the gate, it was the same.