Sunday, October 23, 2005

Why a Blog?

A friend of mine Frederick Smith author of Down For Whatever conducted a creative writing course a few weeks ago that I attended. I really enjoyed the class. Frederick told me that he thought that I was funny. Ok for funny. Well anyway, so I figured that if I did want to write a book or something I probably should get some practice. Hence, here I am creating a blog that so far not many people are even looking at. LOL oh well it's thereapy for me as well.

I just wanted to share one of the things I wrote in Fredericks class. Mind you we only had about 10 mintues to write this stuff with a pen and piece of paper. Isn't it weird how difficult it has become to write with writing tools now that we are in the age of the computer. It was such a slow process.

Ok I'll stop stalling, here's the examples. Frederick gave each of us 2 1st lines from already published books. We didn't know what the book was but were asked to continue from that 1st line.

1st lines 1
I guess the whole mess started around my birthday.
My phone rang and it was Pearl calling.

“So what time do I pick you up”, she said.

“Don’t I get a hello or even a Happy Birthday! I yelled into the phone.

Oh yeah Happy Birthday Baby! I’m sorry I’m just so excited about today and I forgot that it’s about you.

I sighed, thinking here we go again with the same old Birthday routine. Pearl picks me up and then the rest of the gang and off to Magic Mountain. “I guess around 10am.”

“Cool I’ll see you then”, and hung up to get everyone else in place.

So here we are, all in Pearl’s Navigator on our way. Jason and Arthur arguing as usual about Jason flirting at the club, Sylvia eating Oatmeal Raison Cookies her favorite breakfast treat, of all things, Pearl driving by Braille on the freeway and singing off tune and me sitting here wondering why I’m alone.

1st lines 2
The only reason I’m sitting on a toilet in the handicapped stall of the ladies’ room is because I’m hiding.
He’s always chasing me, so I think this is one place he won’t look. I come to the Recreation Center every week. Sometimes he’s here and just looks at me from across the room. That’s when there are a lot of people around. Other times, if he catches me alone in a hallway he’ll make some lewd comment to me like “I would eat your shit for miles just to see where it leads”. Now he tries to touch me. He’s a grotesque, pimply, smelly, overweight white man that owns the grocery store where my mother shops. My under arms sweat every time she sends me to the store, praying the whole 2 blocks that Mr. Slocomb will not be there today. As I walk into the door my heart begins to beat as if it’s about to jump out of my chest. My mouth is dry and breathing gets faint.

I know they are short but we only had a few minutes. I might expand on the sencond story. Of course I'll have to change the 1st line cuz that is not my writing. Maybe I'll just start with the 2nd line.

1 comment:

Bmore Dogg said...

I won't comment on the picture, and D-Place you have a very vivid imagination. HHHHMMMM... I'm beginning to wonder about you.