Category Archives: language
the spoken and written word…and all the linguistic nuances in between
figment friday – you don’t know me
well, better late than never. the day is almost over, but it’s still figment friday, and i’m sticking to my commitment. today’s installment is delayed because once i read this morning’s prompt, i knew this was the one from this week i wanted to share, but i didn’t have time to write it until now. (it’s easier when i can post a daily theme from earlier in the week.)
PROMPT: Choose a person you encounter on a regular basis but don’t know well. Ideally this should be a person who, for whatever your reason, has caught your interest or piqued your curiosity. Now, in second person write about a brief moment in that person’s day.
you always pick up your worn leather bag by grasping a handful of material rather than by the handles. i know this because i see you do it every day as you leave your cozy corner of the coffeehouse.
it’s the same routine every time: stuff the assorted books, pens, and notebooks into the seemingly bottomless satchel. re-don an array of accessories from scarves to sunglasses. pay your tab at the counter and shove a generous bill into the tip jar. call out a friendly, and often funny, farewell to each of the patrons at the surrounding tables. grab a fistful of soft leather and nestle your carryall under your arm as you whistle your way out the door.
what are you working on so intensely every day? do you arrive pre-dawn to set up camp in your regular spot? no matter how early i show up, you seem as if you’ve been sipping lattes and creating for hours on end. if i weren’t hunched over my computer with my hat pulled down low in an obvious attempt to remain anonymous, would you know my name, too?
i thank you, enigmatic leather bag guy. you may not know me, but you inspire me to start earlier, be fully immersed in my efforts, and whistle while i work.
figment friday – a good one
it’s figment friday around here, and i’m still enjoying writing in response to the daily themes from figment. sharing one theme each week is still scary and uncomfortable, though. posting for this weekly commitment is the first time in 3 1/2 years of blogging that i’ve published bits of fiction. i’ve always stuck to real life, and it took me awhile to get comfortable with even that. offering something that was created in my imagination feels more vulnerable, somehow. but that’s the kind of challenge that i’m determined to meet in this year of sharing more.
the topic of the week on okieOLIO has been the story of my running transformation, so i decided to keep that theme as i wrote each day this week. i’m going to put the prompt for the piece i’m sharing today at the end so that it won’t influence the way you read it. if you’ve ever taken a class on creative writing, there’s a possibility that you’ve done a similar exercise, because it’s not uncommon among writing teachers. i chose it from this week’s themes because i know that my normal writing style works in opposition to these guidelines. here it is:
my dogs lie on the floor and watch me lace up my shoes. can we come with you? their big eyes plead. “not this time,” i say out loud as i reach for my shades. i know that this will be a good run. i can feel it. i don’t want a hard tug at the leash or pee pit stops to break up my pace.
as soon as i crack the front door, i am met with the warm, damp wind of june. it seems too warm for such a wee hour. i turn to the dogs and warn them, “we have quite a hot day in store for us, guys.” oh, i can’t wait for the cool temps this fall! i think as i close and lock the door. but the heat does not mean a thing. my legs yearn to move and i have steam to blow off. both good signs that i can beat my goal for this run.
the path by the pond is all mine. i take the loop twice, then turn on the main road when three young boys show up on their bikes. the sun starts to rise, the wind picks up, and i turn it up a notch as a strong song plays in my ears. my feet move as if part of a wheel that rolls by it’s own force—i am just on a ride. i feel at ease as i breathe in time with my steps and the beat of the tune, and soon my mind is lost in thought.
i’m shocked when i see that i’ve made it back to my house, and i check the app on my phone to make sure i ran as far as i planned. cheered by what i see, i walk in the door and tell the ones who wait for me each day, “yeah, it was a good one.”
PROMPT: This is a prompt I love to use when I first meet a new class. I tell them to take out their pens and write me a piece–the theme is up to them. It need not be long. But it needs to be a real scene. And the sole rule that frames what they write is this: You may not use a word with more than one syllable. It sounds hard, but “syllable” is the lone word used here that has more than one.
Today’s theme comes from Nathan Englander, whose new collection of short stories, What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank, came out this week to raves.
figment friday – slippery when wet
one down, two more months of figment friday to go. i’m still diligently churning out bits of fiction each morning. i only skipped one daily theme this week. today’s share is actually not too far from nonfiction.
PROMPT: Write an active scene entirely in dialogue. No quotation marks; no he said-she said; no description of action—just the words the characters say. Don’t explicitly tell us what the activity is, but through your characters’ dialogue, make it clear what they’re doing.
where did he go?
the bedroom, i think.
i told you not to leave the door open.
it was hot in there!
why did he bolt, anyway?
you know he tries to escape every time. check the closet.
nope. maybe under the bed?
aha! there you are! c’mon, boy. Buddy, come! come here…
that’s not gonna work. we’ll have to force him out.
okay, you get on that side and push him my way.
i can’t fit under there! i need something to drive him toward you.
get your hairdryer. he hates that thing.
oh, yeah! . . . …is it working?
here he comes! got yo– *$#%!
how did he get past you?
he’s all soapy! he slipped right through my hands!
did he head for the living room?! hurry, before he gets the couch all wet.
no, he went into the kitchen. maybe we can corner him by the sink.
you take the right side and i’ll take the left. go slowly.
oh! so close! he’s too quick. how does he change directions that fast?
aauugh! now he thinks it’s a game! grab a treat to get his attention.
good idea. heeeey, boy! want a cookie? look what i’ve got for you!
well, at least he’s standing still, now. use another one to lure him back into the bathroom.
i can’t believe he fell for it! we should’ve tried that in the first place.
why do we even bother giving him a bath? he’s just gonna go outside and dig again!
you want him tracking all that mud in the house?
(sigh) no, of course not. just close the door next time, okay?
fine. hand me a towel, will you?
figment friday – three deliveries
it’s figment friday again. this exercise in daily creative writing has truly been challenging. (and sharing it even more daunting.) but i’m determined to keep my promise. here is one of my responses from this week:
PROMPT: The song “ The Three Bells” tells the story of Little Jimmy Brown (read the lyrics here). In each of the song’s three verses, a milestone in Jimmy’s life—his birth, wedding, death—is marked by the sounding of church bells (hence the song’s title). Choose a similar symbol that recurs three times in a character’s life and tell that character’s life story in three parts—could be chapters, stanzas, verses, paragraphs.
she ranks “snail” mail
in a higher category than e-mail
so when the letter appeared in the mailbox
she eagerly opened the envelope.
the invitation to spend the summer abroad changed her perspective forever.
she loves “just because” gifts
more than birthdays or Christmas
so when the package appeared on the porch
she happily opened the box.
the portrait of her far-reaching impact transformed her ambitions forever.
she prefers “expected” guests
over unannounced visitors
so when the taxi appeared in the driveway
she anxiously opened the door.
the hand-delivered job offer altered her legacy forever.
figment friday – baggage
this week’s daily themes have been focused on varying approaches toward developing a novel-in-progress. that has been interesting practice for me, because i’ve never actually crafted a fully-realized fictional piece, aside from the short stories i wrote as a kid. since novel development doesn’t really result in blog-sized essays, this week’s figment friday post is my response to a writing prompt from the first week in january–before i decided to share.
PROMPT: You’re on an airplane, mid-flight, when one of the overhead bins suddenly opens. Three bags fall out, spilling their contents up and down the aisle. Describe the three bags and what was in each. Through your descriptions, show us who their owners are and what those people are like. **Added challenge: Turn those bags into characters. Try using personification and other forms of figurative language to make the baggage itself have, well, baggage.
the occasional shudder of turbulence suddenly becomes a stomach-lurching dip in altitude that incites a collective gasp from the passengers. before i can fully recover, the overhead compartment across the aisle flies open, pouring it’s cargo into the cabin.
the strap of an oversized purple and orange tote snags on the latch of the overhead bin, and the tired bag hangs upside down from the hook, emptying it’s contents with a sigh onto the lap of the lady in the aisle seat. relieved to be free of the heavy load, the well-worn satchel dances an aerial jig with the bounce of the airplane.
while the startled young woman tries to decide whether to cover her head or catch the items raining down on her, the briefcase that was nestled behind the colorful carryall slides forward, launches across the aisle, and slams angrily into the headrest of the seat in front of me. the seat’s occupant, clearly oblivious to the concussion he narrowly averted, whips around to deliver a glare that says he holds me responsible for the rattling annoyance.
i immediately throw my hands up in a display of innocence, but before he can even acknowledge my gesture, an overstuffed backpack tumbles out of the open bin and catches him right across the nose. he curses and stares down at the paunchy pack, which has settled on top of what must be his own briefcase, judging by the speed with which he unbuckles so he can reach it.
but as the suit-clad man snatches the surly case up by the handle, it’s evident that the closure was damaged on it’s impact with either the seat or the floor. wounded from it’s attempted assault, the ornery attaché falls open and releases a steady stream of papers…no, pamphlets…no, comic books! “graphic novels,” i hear him mutter as he hastily gathers the fluttering pages.
meanwhile, the boy in the window seat is clamoring over the woman with a lap full of her belongings to get to his bulging knapsack. he upsets the pile of paraphernalia she had been assembling, and the magazines, lipsticks, candy, pens, half-crocheted scarf, ball of yarn, and red cloche hat spill into the aisle and roll toward first class. a flight attendant positions herself in front of the curtain in a wide-legged crouch, ready to play goalie and block any coach possessions from breaking through.
the boy crawls under a surprised passenger’s feet to retrieve his bag, and trips the businessman chasing down a runaway comic caught in the stream of an air vent over his head. both right themselves, and while the red-faced man retreats to his seat, the boy tries to refasten the canvas belt that had been cinched around the pudgy backpack.
the numerous zippers were already straining to contain the excess of stuff, so with the belt loosened, the sack exhales gratefully and lets the hoodie in the middle pocket hang out a little. the boy shoves it back in, but this only widens the gap at the top, ejecting an mp3player and tangle of headphones. the poor guy clamps his hand over the opening too late to prevent a heavy book from forcing the zipper wide open. the bright yellow volume lies on the floor just long enough for me to read “Baking for Dummies” before it disappears under his t-shirt.
the uncompliant backpack continues to refuse the property of its exasperated owner, so he finally scoops up all his things in a bulky bear hug. he awkwardly climbs back into his window seat just as an attendant announces “the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign…”
figment friday
in an effort to write more in 2012, i’ve signed up for figment‘s daily themes. i’ve been diligently churning out quick burst of words based on the varied writing prompts, and plan to continue the daily exercise for the three months that the themes will be offered.
i’m challenging myself to share at least five of my pieces on the figment site, and i’d like to post at least twice as many here. so from now until march 30, each week i will choose one of my responses to the daily prompts to publish here on ~okieOLIO~ for “figment friday.”
starting today.
PROMPT: Using third person, write about a moment when a character who usually feels (and perhaps is) painfully awkward temporarily feels singularly beautiful, handsome, sexy, and at ease.
her feet literally drag the ground as she hauls her lanky frame through the front door. the scrape of her heels on the hardwood floors makes her cringe a little, but the weariness from fighting her slouchy posture all day wins out.
as she passes the living room, she shrugs off the tailored blazer, but her bracelet gets lodged so thoroughly in the sleeve that she is forced to violently shake her arm until the entire jacket is dangling inside out from one wrist. she frees herself with a jerk, not caring for the welfare of the obstinate piece of jewelry, and both accessories fall to the floor. with a sigh she kicks off her shoes and allows them to join the pile.
she shuffles by the kitchen, not the slightest bit interested in dinner. her stomach is still churning from the humiliation of the incident at the office that day. if only she could maintain control over her ungainly limbs while in public!
safely inside her familiar bedroom, she instinctively reaches toward the docked iPod, and in seconds is rewarded with soothing notes filling the room. stumbling out of her restrictive garments, the tension in her body begins to release in response to the music.
the almost imperceptible sway of her shoulders slowly spreads to the rest of her. the sharp elbows and knees that usually define her stiff gait are suddenly graceful and elegant in the imagination of the girl overcome by movement. her twirling and bounding throughout the room builds with the song, and soon she is breathless and flushed.
impulsively she grabs the silky scarf from top of her dresser and flings it over her head with enthusiasm. a few heedless giggles escape as it floats down, and she snatches it from the air before it flutters out of reach. draping the delicate cloth around her curveless waist, she executes a clumsy sashay across the floor, swinging her hips flirtatiously to the rhythm of the song. she can feel herself blushing as if the eyes of a dozen admiring men were on her.
as the music fades, she falls gleefully onto the down comforter with a contented grin–one that has not shown itself since the previous night’s dance.
