This is my first writing exercise (if this is news to you, you may want to check out yesterday’s post). The prompt came from 10 Best Creative Writing Exercises and I hope I’ve done it justice.
For Sale: Best Pet Ever!
Buddy is the best pet on the planet! He’s friendly and likes to snuggle. Buddy also enjoys being around people (except my sister) unless he’s shedding. Last time I measured him he was almost 5’ long! Recently Buddy has put on a little weight, which is weird since I only feed him once every couple of weeks. Buddy eats small rodents, and I have a supply of frozen rats I’ll throw in if you take him. Plus I’ll give you the name of the online store where I get them. They have great prices and free shipping! You’ll need to keep the door on his cage fastened securely; he’s become something of an escape artist, and boy is he hard to find sometimes! Just last week I found him stretched out behind the washer and dryer. Mom says I have to sell him because of my sister’s missing gerbils. It really isn’t fair, but Buddy gets blamed for everything.
One of the things I’ve read over and over about writing is that in order to be a good writer you have to…well, write. I also regularly hear that ideally, you should be writing every day. Damn it.
Anyone who is serious about writing recognizes the value of this habit. I certainly do. Sadly though, I’m nowhere near a daily writer. Between my workload, family obligations and plain old laziness I’ve allowed my writing to become Big Foot: heard about but rarely seen in real life.
It isn’t that I don’t want to write, I guess I just don’t want it badly enough to get up earlier than usual to devote that time to it (or stay up later). When I lived with my grandparents I remember my grandma rising well before we did in order to sit at her old Royal (I think it was a Royal) typing away at a story. I don’t know how she did it (shaking head). Full time job, raising two of her grandchildren, dealing with a pot-smoking, unmotivated teenaged son and a husband who was old school enough to let her do it all on her own.
If I had half her drive I’d be a published author now! Okay, maybe not, but I’d have at least finished the edits on Maxwell’s Silver Bullet. Sigh.
So yesterday on the train home I Googled “writing exercises” and emailed three of the sites I skimmed to myself at work so I could look at them when I had a chance. (Cue the maniacal laughter.)
I read one of the articles all the way through because it made me laugh out loud on the train. What did I expect from something I found on the Cracked website? I don’t know but I now love Robert Brockway. Too bad my employer’s security blocks his blog. I’ll warn you, it contains language and not just English. For instance, tip number two begins, “Fuck your novel, anyway.” Read it with your sense of humor set on high but do read it.
If I can sufficiently kick myself in the butt I hope to begin stretching the old writing muscles soon and post those exercises here. Maybe I’ll even get back to Maxwell’s. I’m not holding my breath, and don’t you either.