Write-A-Day Challenge

In one of my past posts, Empty  I wrote how I had the desire to write, but didn't know what to write about.  A great website was referred to me, and I am going to try my hardest to write one prompt a day.

Creative Writing Prompts

Day 1:  Close your eyes and think of an object in the room and focus on it.  Without opening your eyes, recall as much detail about it as you can.  After 3 minutes or so, open your eyes and write about that object without looking at it.

In the darkest corner of my living room stands a grandfather clock, tall, proud and majestic.  Its pendulum has stopped swinging since 4:36 this morning, and the slender, golden weights are resting at the bottom of the clock.  It needs to be wound, but I often forget.  Somehow, I'm bothered by the job of pushing the minute hand around and around the clock until I reach the correct time, and so I wait until the time is the same as when the clock stopped.  It usually stays this way for several days until I happen to catch the time just right.

This clock with the moon and ship that slowly, ever so slowly, sail around and around with the passing of time has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.  It was in the house where I grew up in, and it was given to me when my parents upgraded to a newer model just a few years ago.  Its simple color and design are nothing compared to others, but to me, it represents a wonderment that I carry with me from childhood.

The door to grandfather clocks has always fascinated me.  It's long and narrow--just tall enough for a child to step through.  I pictured it opening up to another world, and as a child, I frequently saw myself stepping into it and finding myself in another place, although I was never brave enough to step inside.  I suppose I wasn't ready for magic, nor am I to this day.  I like to think that it's still possible, that hidden behind the glass and the frozen pendulum is a gateway, leading to who knows where.  I'm too afraid to find out.  I only hope that one day, one of my children are brave enough to step into the beyond, and tell me of the adventures that I've sadly missed.

I remember listening to scary stories on tape that my father recorded in the 1970's, usually on stormy nights with the house lights off.  Mom would be away, and it was just Dad and us kids.  One story's ghost seems to linger, though my mind feels thick with cobwebs as I try to recall it, and I'm uncertain of anything except that a clock kept chiming and a ghost made its presence known.

One night, when the children were sleeping and I was lying in bed, waiting for my husband to return home from work, I suddenly realized that the clock had been chiming for some time.  I often don't notice it, having grown accustomed to listening to it as a child, but on this night, it suddenly caught my attention.  One...two...three...I counted along with the chimes, waiting for it to stop.  How many times had it rang out before I kept track?  I reached twelve, anxious for it to end, but still it continued, over and over again, as if a doorway to a ghostly realm had just been opened.  Would it ever stop?  Was my house being possessed?  I frantically called my parents, anxious for an answer.  I was instructed to remove the weights.  As I lifted one from off its chain, the clock continued to ring, echoing loudly as the sound reverberated from the cherry wood and glass.  I took the second weight down, fearing that the clock would scream all night long, but then only the ringing from my ears was what was left.  Never before had I felt so scared about a clock.  Ghosts don't exist...but this night tested my belief.

In the corner of my living room sits my grandfather clock, older than me, yet just as magnificent looking as I remember from my childhood.  Whether or not it's a doorway to the beyond doesn't matter; what matters is that I believe in the possibility, and with that possibility is a magic that will forever remain with this clock, stuck for the time being at 4:36 with the moon-face knowingly smiling back at me.

Poetry Exercises

Remember how I want to try exercising my creativity? After reading hundreds of poems daily (and feeling very jealous that these kids have SUCH amazing talents), I have really wanted to try to write some of the things that they are writing. My job at Creative Communication has really been an eye-opener for me in several aspects.

First, the imagery these kids create just blow me away. My favorite one so far was one student who compared the sun to a ripe orange, squeezing out its sunlight. Seriously? How does someone come up with that? That is the most beautiful image I have ever read! I have started thinking of creative metaphors, though I have nowhere near the abilities these amazing students have. I'm hoping to develop this talent through hard work and dedication.

I've really wanted to find the different types of poems these students are submitting so that I can practice, and I found a list of them on the Poetic Power website. I've included the link on the right side of this blog entitled "Poetry exercises." There are many different types of poems. I plan to write a new poem daily...or at least weekly. If you click on the link, select the grade level. Next, under "Main Categories," select "Types of Poetry." A large list of different poetry types is offered, and after choosing your desired poem, you will be prompted to select a link. Choose "How to write..."

I really urge everyone with students in grades K-12 to practice writing poems, and submit them to the contest! There are 3 poetry contests yearly, and if the poem is written well enough, well, hello publication! Creative Communication does not publish every poem submitted, but it is easier than other agencies. I really wish I would have had this opportunity when I was a student. Getting a poem or essay published is an incredible opportunity for students to get their foot in the door to a future writing career!





Another way my eyes have been opened is the ability to push through pain. I have never been athletic. At all. My idea of running was just to the bathroom. Playing sports was never fun for me because not only did I lack self-confidence, but I hated the pain and exhaustion I felt when I ran too much. Now that I am 30 years old, I am almost embarrassed (although really surprised) that athletic people feel the same pain I felt! I always attributed my discomfort to disability. If only I had known that runners, swimmers, volleyball players, and everyone else who succeeded at sports also suffer burning pain in their muscles! The difference between them and me was their desire to persevere. They pushed past the pain and grew from it. I shirked from it. Feared it. I now am more willing to try new things because I know that I, too, can persevere!

My spirituality has also been affected by my job. I read these essays by students who express their faith in God, through daily prayer, trust, and love. I realized with shame that although I had always striven to keep close to God, the absolute chaos and exhaustion of motherhood had kept me from prayer, scripture study, and dedication.
My longing to get back to where I once was was sparked by these faithful students--regardless of their faith. I envied where they were in their lives, and longed to have that relationship with God that they enjoyed. Happiness comes from this, and nothing can replace it.

Being a poetry/essay judge has been the best thing for me. Not only does it give me the needed break from the insanity of home, but it has given me a drive to improve myself in many aspects of my life. Writing is inspiring. It not only benefits the writer, but the reader's eyes become open to knowledge they never could have dreamed. Writing is art, writing is expression, writing is power.

Getting Creative

Every writer wants their books to be popular, right? I know that I secretly dream of fame and living in a nice house with more than one bathroom, and a front door that doesn't let in the wind. So what is it that makes books sell like hotcakes? One (which really doesn't help ME at all) is fame. Ever heard of a guy named Obama? He's written a book, which of course has made New York Times Bestseller list. Another, perhaps more feasible, method is writing an old fable with a twist. Ever heard of "The Three Little Pigs"? What about "The True Story of the Three Little Pigs"? What makes these so much fun is the creativity of taking a familiar tale and learning of another character's point of view.

During the 2011 LDStorymakers Writer's Conference, I took a class from Liz Adair who taught us about changing point of view up a little. Ms. Adair gave us a synopsis of the story of Noah and his ark, and challenged us to create a new story from someone else's point of view.



The story ideas were endless: Noah's wife had a crazy husband, and needed to choose between him and her friends. Ever consider how a wealthy daughter-in-law's life would change from working in successful career with an enormous wardrobe to living in a wooden box stuffed with animals? How would that affect her relationship with her new husband? Ideas also included the introduction to a giraffe who never experienced his true height until he stretched his neck up far enough to watch the dove return with the olive branch. It was an exercise I think I will always treasure.

Coming up with new, fresh ideas doesn't need to stress us out. With a little creative writing exercises, I think we'll be able to find ways to see new stories within existing ones. I know that I sometimes feel intimidated by staring at a blank Word document, or tapping my pen on an empty page. I think that my idea needs to be perfectly original, something that no one has ever thought of before. The time that I do find for writing is precious, and I feel like it's wasted if I don't jot down the perfect idea. I guess what I'm getting at is that we should take time for writing exercises, something that gets the creative juices flowing. Maybe, if I'm motivated, I might just start posting writing exercises. It would be good for us!