Writing Exercises

So, here are a few writings from my latest classes.

When asked to describe one of several emotions that had been named by class members, I wrote:

She's sitting with about six others in the waiting area of Assemblyman Leno's office. Although they arrived about ten minutes late, he is not yet ready for them. She volunteered to make this trip only a week ago, and has barely grasped the question she has come to put to him. She was briefed in the van as they drove to Sacramento; she has developed a script. But still, her breathing is shallow; she pokes at tight muscles in her chest. Perhaps her face is pale, because a leader of the group asks her if she's all right. "I'll be fine once we get started," she says. "It's nothing a little Klonopin won't fix."

Then we were asked to develop a scene from our past, first by drawing a plan of a childhood home, then writing a description of a room therein, then writing descriptions of some of the characters of that period of our lives, and finally a scene in that room involving some conflict. I wrote the scene below, (using an opening line suggested by the teacher) but felt so inadequate for my inability to clearly imagine the house, room, and people, that I also wrote me a pep talk, which also follows.

The trouble began when Grandma came to tuck me into bed and found Grandpa there reading me a story. "The curtain goes up at 8," she said. "We don't have time for this." She had given me my medicine earlier in the day, so she could get dressed up for her evening at the theater. And I hadn't made that easy for her either. The huge antibiotic capsules that I took for my strep throat always felt like they were choking me, so I resisted taking them. We had worked out a compromise. I would choke down the capsule, and chase it with a cup of hot tea that she would, on such occasions only, let me drink while in bed.

So here she came, carrying her fur wrap and smelling of Chanel No. 5. And Grandpa was going to finish reading me the latest Nancy Drew mystery if I had anything to say about it. They debated the point in Yiddish, while I comforted myself with looking at the ballerinas painted on the doors of my jewelry box. Nothing was visible out the window, but I knew the backyard was there and that I would eventually be back outside, playing in it.

Grandma must have played some trump card, because Grandpa stood up handed me the book, kissed me on the forehead, and told me to finish reading the book myself, like a good girl.

Now my pep talk:

How am I going to learn to do new things if I hate doing them poorly so much that I never try? Or if I give up the first time I dislike what I've done or when someone suggests how I can do it better?

I do not have to do everything that I do perfectly in order to be entitled to live. Humans don't excel at everything. And some things, most things actually, that we do poorly at first, we can get better at doing.

I go to classes to learn, not to demonstrate excellence. I go to get guidance, to try, to stumble, to get some hints of how to improve. No one fails at a class, except one who doesn't go at all. My best effort is, by definition, good enough for right now.


And now some pieces from my current class. We were given a list of dozens of words and asked to choose seven that appealed to us. Then we were told to write a poem using all of them, in free verse. I got them all in, but was not really happy with it. Here's another take, using only three of them:

A magenta sunset
came to the megalopolis.
I examined the intricate flow of the light
around the buildings,
each piece connecting to the next
in an algebra of architecture.

Then we worked on writing the first and last lines of pieces, the hook or lead and the kicker:
1. A. The empty music stands were the only witnesses to Horace's death.
B. The viols and recorders, playing in perfect tune, gave witness that harmony had been restored to the early music workshop.

2. A. My idea of a workout is walking to a more distant Quiznos for lunch.
B. Sidewalks may not be all the gym I need, but they are all the gym I will use.

3. A. Do two notes imply a harmony the way that two points define a line?
B. The words and music together invoke a blessing of peace.

Then we were assigned to write something using a common daily form, e.g., invitation, personal ad, etc. I wrote product safety warnings for a recorder. They go on for a while, based largely on those in the manual for my cell phone. Here are a few that I adapted:

1. Overblowing can result in damaged hearing or a damaged instrument, and, possibly, fist-fights or lawsuits.
2. Although your recorder is fairly sturdy, it is a piece of wood, and can be cracked or broken. Avoid dropping, hitting, bending, or sitting on it.
3. Any changes or modifications to your recorder not performed by its maker will void your warranty for the instrument and could void your authority to play it.