I'll start this like W.A. (Writers Anonymous) Hi my name is Kelly. . .now you may say, "Hi Kelly."  I smile and try to tell you how I got here.  The truth is I NEED an outlet and this sounded like fun.  I haven't written since high school either so hopefully I can remember how.

  
Homework 1

Lawyer: Could you tell us a little bit about the Cabin and your Mother and Father?

Jess: Ma ain't never let us wander far from the "Hut".  We was always inside, trying to hide from Pa.  He was cordial when we'd see him in court, but Ma knew it was only a matter o' time 'fore he'd find us.

Me an' my sister Katie lived upstairs.  We loved best the view from our winder.  We'd seen two coon's climbing the tree out the winder and got an idea.  Katie was just small enough to fit through the winder and reach the branch of the tree.  She sneeked out that window an' got her first kiss. We found out frogs ain't magical in them parts.  We still laugh 'bout how sneaky and silly we was.  Ma never even knew.

Lawyer: Go on.

Jess:  I can still smell the bacon Ma always cooked on Sundeys.  We got bacon an' flat cakes every Sundey, rain or shine.  Mr Brown the neighbor up Pike hill raised pigs and Ma would trade baked goods for his delicious pigs. I think we got bacon cause you could smell it on us when we went to church and Ma wanted to impress the preacher.  He was nice, but Ma never really had no good taste for men.  Never would 'mount to much anyways 'cause we'd be movin' soon. We always did.

Lawyer:  What about your Father?


Jess: Pa was. . .well. . .he weren't exactly 'round much when we was kids.  When he did come he was always liquored up and such.  Ma said he was an angel sober an' the devil drunk.  I ain't never seen an angel but, I can't imagine Pa with wings.  Horns suit him better I'd suppose.  Anyways, Ma was tired of getting black eyes, so we moved.  Six times we moved, but Pa always knowed where we was.  When we found the "Hut" he didn't find us for two whole years. Luck runned out, an' the Sheriff gived Ma papers to sign.  She knew Pa wouldn't be long after.  It was just a matter o' time.

Lawyer: What about the trenches around the cabin?

Jess:  It was a wet year and the cellar was plum full of water.  That's when Ma had one o' them socials and telled the people we was fillin' up with water in the cellar.  Lot's of neighbors came to eat Ma's cookin' and do their Christian duty by diggin' a trench where Ma needed.

Lawyer:  What happened the night of your fathers accident?

Jess:  Me an' Katie was in bed an' heard someone pounding on the door.  It was Pa and he was in one of his moods.  I remember all the yellin'. Kate wanted to run, but the climbing tree was tooken when they digged the trenches. I don't recollect what happened next 'cept Ma said we had to move again.  She was shushin' us and it was real dark.  Ma said we couldn't light the candle cause it'd be light soon enough.  I do remember Pa laying on the floor sleepin' when we left. The other lawyer told me he weren't sleepin' and he blessed Ma's heart.

Lawyer:  Thank you Jess, that will be all.  You may go and sit with Katie.

Exercise 1: An Exercise in Having Little Imagination or Inspiration

It's a really big chicken coop.

Homework #1 (do I get docked for being late)? :)

Secluded from the modern day world, it exists in a world of tranquility.  It is surrounded by lush green foilage and an occasional splash of color.  There is a river called Bountiful.  Pristine and untainted it flows-more like a stream-through the forest, bringing life all around.  A family of black bears visit occasionally to have a hearty meal of fish.  Herds of deer and racoons abound.  Birds of all species share their hearts-a sound words cannot describe.

Next to the cabin is a garden full of herbs and vegetables.  Rain is the main source of water, but the river helps.  The garden is plentiful, enough to feed many and it does. 

Inside the cabin, there is a small kitchen and a big wooden table.  In the loft there is a bed.  A collection from far away travels adorns every corner.  Pictures and keepsakes treasured are there to remind him of the life he has lived.  An armchair sits, facing the back window.  There are many books.  It is filled with memories.  There is love.

A man lives there.  He tills and takes care of the garden.  He is almost as old as the cabin.  It was theirs a long time ago; he is trying to restore what was once their home.  They built it together in harder times.  They had their children there.  They left to make a better living for their family.

The man is strong and intelligent, yet humble and simple.  Wanting for nothing he is grateful for all he has and all he has been given.  He works wonders with his hands, crafting works of beauty with precision and skill.  He has lived a life of integrity and love. 

He misses his wife of fifty years.  After she passed, he abandoned the rush of the world for simplicity once again.  He yearned to be back where he could think...remember.  He wanted to be back where he could feel her the most. 

Though the man is old in years, his heart is young.  He has rugged hands and plenty of wrinkles, yet he gives all that he has.  He gives his harvest to those with nothing.  He spends his time blessing the lives of others with his knowledge and talent.  When visitors comes, he does all he can to make them comfortable and give them what they need.

This is a man who understands what life is all about.  She helped him realize the purpose.  He has taken what life has given him and made the most out of it.  A man refined by trial, emerging victorious, he is ready to meet his maker where his life really began all those years ago.

Exercise #2

Since tomorrow I'll probably not be able to get to posting the next exercise, here it is now. I have to admit that the last one was not that exciting. Hopefully this one will be.

You are a cockroach sympathizer giving a speech at a rally for animal rights.

Obviously, this is just silly, so have some fun!

Due Date

Sharlee had a good idea. She suggested that we all post our assignments on the same day. Let's have them all posted by Friday night. That gives us two days to read everyone's brilliance by Monday when I post the next exercise.

I hope you're having fun! If you're nervous to start, don't worry. I was too, but once I sat down and started brain storming, the words came and it got fun.

I just got another idea. What if we all took turns posting the writing assignments? Would you like that or would you rather I just did it? Let me know what you think of that.

Homework #1

Here it is! I know you've all been dying to read this. I must warn you that it turned out to be slightly sadistic. I started writing it at the end of a rather bad day, so I'm blaming the depressing nature on that. I won't feel bad if you don't read it.

At the bottom of a small hillside rests a an old, miserable looking cabin. Although the foundation appears strong, the weather worn facade betrays the building's long lifespan. Where once a front door was hung, now lay two two by fours, extending out of the doorway like two tongue depressors and forming two narrow, precarious bridges from the hillside to the doorway. Without them, one would have to either leap or climb into the cabin. Tall, skinny trees surround the cabin, but they do not fully protect it from the hot afternoon sun. In the heat of the day, the sun beats down upon the roof of the cabin, and the blinding reflection of the sun's rays blend in so well with the sky behind it that there appears to be no roof at all.

The humble cabin was built by humble people with very little means. Every square foot meant more money spent, forcing them to build as few as possible. Their meager resources allowed them a home with only two small rooms on the main level and a small attic above. The rooms on the main level include a living/kitchen/dining room and a bedroom. The attic entrance is found in the far corner of the bedroom where a splintered ladder rests against the wall and leads up to a small hole in the ceiling. Indoor plumbing not being an option, outside and obscured by the cabin and forest trees is a rusty pump and an outhouse.

Inside, darkness and gloom reside, and the smells of dust and age fill the air. Few furnishings exist. In the first room sits a table and two chairs, and in the bedroom lies a bed without a blanket or even a sheet, offering only coldness. The only warmth and light in the house comes from three small windows. Dust mites dance in the rays, and the light reveals the colorless rooms and furnishings covered with blankets of dust and neglect that hide their forgotten original states. The first owners long ago left their home and furnishings behind, and there it remained for countless years, empty and forgotten. If passersby ever came across it, they would think it empty still. They'd be partly right. For, the person living in this miserable cabin is barely living at all.

His name is Peter, and he is as miserable as this cabin. That's why he chose it. After wandering in the woods for weeks, he came upon this sorrowful place and saw that it was filled with sadness and regret. He looked on it, saw there was no owner, and thought, "This is the place for me."

Everyday he sits in a chair by the attic window and overlooks the surrounding forest. He tortures himself with the beautiful sights and sounds of the world, while inside, he marinates in his own sadness and the sadness of the cabin that is as prevalent as each particle of dust. He ponders his miserable existence and the choices that lead him to this point. He cannot allow a man such as himself to be a part of anything good and happy, so he has banished himself in this solitary place.

He wonders about the cabin and what circumstances and choices left it sad and alone like him. The cabin wonders about him too. What could a man do that would consign him to such misery? Well, neither would ever know the others' secret pasts. Alone they would sit, each becoming a part of the other's sadness, stewing in a boiling pot of their united misery.

Haven't done my homework....

but I found this. Might be fun for some of you.

Kate Dicamillo On Writing

Kate Dicamillo has written several books, including Because of Winn Dixie, The Tale of Despereaux, and The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. I actually haven't read any of them, but after reading her blog and seeing the movie adaptation of Because of Winn Dixie, I can't wait to open up one of her novels.

I thought you all might enjoy what she has to say about how she became a writer and her advice to those who want to do it too. Here's the link. I think you'll like her.

Exercise #1

Are you ready for the first creative writing assignment?

Drum roll please...

The assignment is...

Here (Exercise #1)

Good luck everyone! Find your inner Austen and have some fun!

Post your exercise on this blog any time during the next 2 weeks. I'll post the next exercise on February 15th. If we think two weeks is too long between exercises, we'll change it to one. Let's just play it by ear.