Story Writing Exercises?

So, I figure I should use this blog to somewhat increase my writing skills, right? Why write if not for thine self and the betterment of thine writing? So I stumbled upon these writing exercises and shall now write non-edited stream of consciousness responses to them here and now (maybe not all six since it's 2am and I have very limited brain function, but I'll try, for you dear readers).

Write the first 250 words of a short story, but write them in ONE SENTENCE. Make sure that the sentence is grammatically correct and punctuated correctly. This exercise is intended to increase your powers in sentence writing. (It's only 207, so sue me)
I have always loved railroad tracks, the seemingly endless way they run out to the horizon, the wonder and excitement that lays at their end, the strange and interesting people along the way - the idea of endless days and nights of hundreds of people with hundreds of ideas and thoughts and lives all linked together everyday unknowingly by the unforgiving parallel bars of their local train system; though they'll never know anything of one another except what they can gather from what's been left behind, a half-completed crossword puzzle, a forgotten novella, a disregarded short story fragment written on a napkin (you never know where that might lead) the only clues you have, the only tiny glimpses to the lives that are happening in perfect sync - at least for the duration of the journey - with yours, though they may not be coming from the same place or headed to your stop, their life story, for these few precious moments, is in perfect and complete harmony with your own; where are they going in such a hurry, do they have loved ones there, have they been there before, what awaits them at the end of the line, and what, for that matter awaits you.

Write a dramatic scene between two people in which each has a secret and neither of them reveals the secret to the other OR TO THE READER.
"Oh jesus LeAnne, not another glass of wine." Not again, not tonight, Mitch facepalms as the attractive brunette across from him signals to the nearest server. He nonchalantly checks the bills in his wallet, thumbing the ones.
"Bullshit Mitchel. Here, have one yourself." She fiddles in purse for a tip for the waiter and pauses before handing Mitchel the glass. Running her finger gently around the glass rim she snaps the tiny vial in her purse shut. "Maybe it'll loosen you up." Mitch squirms in the chair.
"You know I hate red wine. You're drawing too much attention to us dear, can't we just lie low tonight? You always make such a scene." His phone beeps its familiar text tone and both jump. Mitch glances into his lap and then jerks his head up to scan the restaurant; nothing unusual.
"God, you're such a schitz." LeAnne  rolls her eyes and applies a fresh coat of cherry red lipstick in her compact. Mitch hears a faint clink of metal on metal as she returns it to her purse. He avoids her eyes and instead considered the picturesque street view out the window over her shoulder. "If you'll excuse me, I need to power mah nose deary." Her six inch stiletto heels clack smartly on the Italian tile as she crosses the dining room, narrowly avoiding a collision with a tray-laden waiter. She snatches the falling cheese-grater from his tray and flips it back without blinking.
"Goddamn it." Mitch whispers, completely oblivious of the actions of his guest. His cell rattles again and he types back a rapid response. He makes eye contact with a rather large and mustached man two tables over who shakes his jowls confidently before going back to his herb crusted salmon. A fellow diner brushes against Mitch from behind and he feels the hairs on his neck come to rapt attention. 
"Watch yourself Mitchel. He's not happy." A phrase, so quiet only he can hear it, uttered in his ear, and then nothing. He dares not spin, nor react. They know. They all know. They're here. He's here. Mitch allows himself a brief look up over his salad. The waiters seem to be avoiding his gaze. The busboys snicker. Do they know?
"Ugh, a place like this, you'd think they'd spring for nicer johns." LeAnne rejoins him, Her short red dress riding up as she returns to her seat. "You've barely touched your wine Mitchel. Lighten up..." She takes note of the beads of sweat on his forehead, the tiny tremors of his wrists. Always a worry wart ol' Mitch. Maybe this time for good reason. She winks at the passing waitress, a tall and slender blonde woman and nods, so tiny that Mitch cannot see. Suddenly a crash from the kitchens, a commotion from the back. Heads turn, necks crane. From the front window, the sound of breaking glass. Before the patrons know what has happened, a scream. The blonde waitress is standing over LeAnne and Mitch's table, the pair of them lie dead on the floor, two neat gunshots to their temples. LeAnne's purse has been upended on the restaurant floor, a Colt .45, and glass vial lay beside her body. Clutched in Mitch's hand, partially obscuring a bright distinctive tattoo, a switchblade rests against his wrist, poised and ready.


Write a narrative descriptive passage in a vernacular other than your own. Listen to the way people speak in a bar, restaurant, barber shop, or some other public place where folks who speak differently ("He has an accent!") from you, and try to capture that linguistic flavor on the page.
"Oy! Ye there! First yers! Over 'ere!" Bloody scamps ne'er know where they be goin'. That's why you were there, yer job was to show the little first years 'ow things work about theses parts. Lantern high you weave through the crowds to the little blighters, 'uddled in the very back 'o the crowd, shakin' like leaves on that ther' Whompin' Willow. "First yers! This way!" Ye wave at 'em and they're all just too darn scared to move but a muscle. Catchin' a glimpse of red in the crown, ye break into a grin. "Ye be a Weasley, ain't yer?" Little scrap of a mite, he be. But 'es got 'is father's uncanny hair and 'is mother's face. "Ron and 'ermione's boy I take?" 'e nods. "Ar, it be mighty nice to see a redhead in these 'alls again..."
Oh cut me a break, it's 3am. I enjoyed myself. Hope you did too. Welcome to a brief snippet of my brain....

My 'A-ha' Moment

So, I had an a-ha moment last night (and no, not like a 'Take On Me' moment - although that video is epic!). I figured out why I blog. It was amazing. It just hit me as I was bawling down in the basement.

I blog because I hate other people seeing me upset. I hate unloading my shit on people who clearly have better things to do. I don't like bothering people with my issues, especially because half the things that really upset me are stupid and not worth being upset over. And then the fact that I have no one to talk to because I don't want to bother anyone upsets me more. But really, that's my big thing, I don't like people seeing me a wreck. Like, I try to have as few people as possible see/hear me cry (do those who've put up with me, your medals are in the mail...) So, my solution? Sit behind a keyboard where no one can see me and bitch about things that bother me. That way, no one is forced to deal with my problems, but I get the therapeutic value of telling someone about what annoys me. Plus. I don't have to go into specifics, name names, or get really detailed about anything, and if you don't care about what I'm writing about, you can stop. It's perfect. I get to talk and no one has to listen.

Well, that and I love to write and I love to talk (primarily about myself) but also about my opinions on stupid things and share all the fun shit I find in my day-to-day life. It keeps me sane. So, here's a big thank you to you all out there wondering when I'm going to stop rambling and write something of substance (NEVER!!!)

Need A Laugh? Who Are You Kidding? That's Why You're Here...

This video will A. put a smile on your face and B. get hopelessly lodged in your frontal lobe for WEEKS.

Enjoy.

I Took 2 Psych Classes, So Naturally Now I Know It All

I was thinking today, as I braved the tundra that campus has become, about technology and it's utter destruction of human nature. Now let me first assert that I am 100% a slave to my keyboard as much as everyone else, I'm a product of a texting generation, and a new Microsoft version has come pretty much ever year I've lived, and am guilty of all I speak. I'm merely observing (aren't we all?). But I truly think that technology and electronic communication are breaking down the ways that we view people, and more importantly deal with them and their emotions. I think that all the typing rather than face-to-face communication is slowly ruining our ability to relate to others, understand their feelings and opinions, and sympathize. Because on a computer or cell phone we can simply ignore, refresh, or navigate away from anything we dislike or disagree with in a matter of nanoseconds we can't deal face-to-face with situations that we are uncomfortable with or don't like. Everything becomes awkward because we can't 'x-out' of a conversation in person like we can online. We can't hide behind user names and passwords, or plead a bad connection. As a result we forget how to deal with others in real life and have little patience with slow service or response time that other humans offer. We seek the instant gratification and lighting fast speed of the Internet, Skype, facebook, myspace, AIM, and email and have no time to wait for real-time reactions. We forget that witty remarks don't just fall from our lips as they do from our fingers. We forget in real life we can't just pull up another window and google the answer to a question to look smart. We forget that people get upset for reason that we can't understand but that they still need our understanding. We forget that, when dealing in people and not web pages, we need to face problems - both our own and the people around us's - even though it might not be the most ideal thing to think about at the time (I mean, really, when is a 'good time' to think about a problem anyway?). Tempers get short, fuses blow, relationships, friendships end because we've severely crippled our ability to communicate with other human beings. I feel like this lack of patience for others contributes to higher divorce rates overall and, on a smaller scale, just generally higher instances of petty drama. People can't see from other's point of a view and as a result just get frustrated and explosive about it, saying things they can't backspace and doing things that they can't just type 'jk lol' after. I know that I personally, don't understand why people do so much of the crap they do, but when it comes down to it, I think I'm okay at sympathising with peoples motivations and feelings although I don't exactly understand or even approve of them. We're all different and there are so many influences and factors in every little thing we do that it's impossible to completely understand everyone's reasoning for everything (because most times they themselves don't even know the full reason - hello subconscious!). I just feel like we're all pretty bad at understanding everyone else (excluding probably a very small group of the people you're closest too and know the most about) and the addition of electronic distance in 99% of our interactions with people isn't helping that fact any. Do I know the solution to this? No. Am I even right in my thinking? Probably not. But it's food for thought. Particularly if (and you probably are) in any sort of conflict/spat/awkward situation/strained relationship with anyone at this present time (you are SOOO lying if you say you're not). Just, try a little harder to relate to them before going and tweeting shit on them, okay? For my sanity's sake.

Live long and prosper.

Adventures In the Library

I love old books, like I love reading them, I love their intricate and fucking awesome old-school bindings and embossing, I love their smell, I love sitting in the stacks with them (calm down kids, that's all I'm doin in the stacks ;) ). And the great thing about the campus library is that they specialize in old books. As in, they haven't updated their material in several decades. Great for aesthetics, poor for research. But whatever. These are some gems I found in the Shakespeare section while doing research for a paper.

Fuck yeah, Questin' Shakespearean Style

lol

This is probably the most gorgeous old book I've ever held <3

;) Maybe I'll use this one next time I'm in the stacks. lol

I'll totes be back in library, back in the world of Shakespeare very much, very soon. So look forward to more selected titles soon.

Stall Talk

Once again, the fabulous musings of a generation on the toilet....



Some days the Art Building bathrooms express my feelings better that I ever could.





Damn it Ginny!



This is just a nice sentiment to pee to.



Basically, Dear Abby has struck the library, and is now answering questions on the backs of doors



How To Live With Zombies [a novella]

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's the time of year again, the time when every freshman clutches their marshmellows and quakes in their boots. When every girl wracks her wardrobe to find things that match with orange, and when no honors college kid is safe....oh yes, it's time for the

What the hell is that, you ask? Basically, it's a giant game of tag involving the Zombie Team and the Human Team, where each team's goal is to wipe out the other (Zombies by 'eating' all the humans, humans by outlasting the zombies). Because, as is common zombie-slayer knoweledge, a hungry zombie can only survive for 24 hours without human sustenance. The only defense we poor humans have is marshmallows. Throw one at an attacking zombie and they can't come after you for 10 minutes (so run like hell to a building, they're the only safe zones). So, needless to say, it's quite stressful maintaining your ripe, living human hide on a campus (or in my case a room full) of zombies who, to be quite honest, are usually must faster, sneakier and more strategic than I. However, I'm starting a new list in honor of the first day of Human/Zombie Season (depending on your team)

Innocent Bystanders Who Almost Were Viciously Pelted With Marshmallows

• Girl with yellow hat on (we wear orange bandannas to indicate status, I though she was playing!)
• Boy sprinting across quad
• Dashing Dan, who dashed in my direction and I forgot he wasn't playing
• Boy walking at brisk pace behind me
• Girl coming out of Diehm
• Everyone around the Psych building while I was trying to get to the thesis seminar
• My reflection in a window

I was also like to issue a semi-sincere (I mean, she is a zombie and therefore the enemy) public apology to Honey B, who ambushed me and got pelted in the throat (my aim is sooo much better than last year). Whoops. However, be it noted that the throat is a fairly efficient way to kill a zombie. Just sayin'. Alas, my friends are turning left and right and I now live with two zombies, and have class with at least one tonight. I fear my time with humanity is drawing to a close. Goodbye cruel world!! (Or maybe not?)

Complete And Utter Bullshit.

Complete and Utter Bullshit.
That is all.

Blast from the Past (Force from the Future?)

So, I've been meaning to post this for some time now, ever since I re-discovered it deep in the recesses of my 'Archives' folder. It's an essay I handed in my senior year of high school at the end of the year as a response to a prompt evaluating the class. Suffice to say that last semester, when Internet went down for a few hours, I rediscovered it, read it, and sent an apology email to my teacher for being so fucking saucy (which lead to him reading my blog. Dunno if he still does; if so HEY SUPPPPEEEE!!!). Please bear in mind before you delete this blog from your favorites bar (where it invariably sits of course) that this teacher and I had a relationship based entirely on mutual love for deep, scathing, sarcastic comments. Which I received just about as much as I gave. However, before I write an entire essay introducing the essay, here is my slightly edited, previously unpublished, 12th grade final English essay.

When I think back on this year in English I have nothing but fond memories. How could one not fall in love with all the rompin’ stompin’ he-man adventures that made-up the first semester of our year? How could ones hands go for a whole day without the devastating desire to copy down three blackboards worth of notes? And how could anyone continue their journey in life without ever viewing the acting wonder that is Gilbert Hyatt? The answer: it would be impossible, unthinkable even. Supe, I thank you for these wonderful experiences you have bestowed upon us, among other things, for without them, I would be living an insufficient life, ignorant of the Shakespearean sonnet form and the dangers of an overactive Id. But, in all seriousness Supe, as much as I bitch and moan, I actually enjoyed this year. There, I said something nice. Don’t get too used to it…


[A. and B. have been omitted due to boring content]

C. Writing: Okay, so here’s where I get to complain. Last year we practically did an essay a day; creative, persuasive, open-ended, everything. This year the only writing we did was for blue books and huge research papers. Nothing creative. I can’t be stifled like that Supe! I’m an informal, creative writer; formality makes me panic-y. I would, however, like to thank you for the blue books you gave because though I may piss and moan at the time about how unfairly difficult your blue books are as compared to the other classes (they get the question in advance and get to use the book during the test…pssh) but I really and honestly think that we were infinitely more prepared than they were, from what I can gather from talking to people in the other classes. [boring content here has been removed]
D. Film: How can I not rave about everyone’s favorite host, Gilbert Hyatt?! His knowledge and pronunciation rocked my view of the Odyssey! How were we all to know that we’d been pronouncing the rompin’-stompin’-he-man’s name wrong for so long?! Other than that, the Troy movie with the decrepit Helen was a visual masterpiece, I mean, clearly that mug would have launched a thousand ships, if not more! I also really liked Harold and Maude, it was really unusual and not really my usual movie choice, but I enjoyed it. I still vote, however, that we should watch the Brad Pitt and Orlando Bloom version of Troy when we’re doing the Odyssey; think about it…


E. Grammar Rules: How do I love thee oh grammar, let me count the ways…oh wait, there are none. Thanks for keeping that to a minimum this year, I know how much you love your periods, pronouns, and gerunds.


[F. and G. were also boring. Adios F. and G.]
H. Supe Shtick: I can honestly say I am not really sure what this is, so I don’t know the grounds for its evaluation. I think this is just you fishing around for complements. Nice try, but no.


I. Literary Approach: Three words: BOOK ON TAPE! Listening to the tapes, in addition to being moderately enjoyable, also made sure we read the book and it made a considerable difference for works like Hamlet and Virginia Woolf. [more omitted content here lol]
J. AP Exam: Really, I wasn’t impressed. I almost all the multiple choice questions were fairly simple, easier than what we did in class, as were the essays. Of course, I blanked completely on all literary works with any symbolism, but I also had the chance to apply a lot of themes and concepts that we learned this year (ex: escape from prelapsarian bliss).
K. Term Paper Masterpiece: Oh, what a hellish assignment. I’m leaving and you probably won’t read this until I’m long gone, so I’m saying it. I hated that project! It was long and difficult and annoying. I hated my primary fiction book and it was hard as hell to find sources of criticism for them. And even when I did find criticism I didn’t know how to apply it. All around nightmare. I do, however, wish to thank you for letting me do fiction to fiction, because I loved Slaughterhouse Five and am glad I got a chance to read it.


L. Anything else: Supe, as sarcastic and insulting as this note may sound, I would honestly like to tell you – no sarcasm – that I enjoyed your class (though you’ll never get me to admit it again, let alone in public and out loud). From talking to kids in other AP 12 classes I feel like we did way more work at a better pace and covered everything important in a timely manner and in time for the AP test. I feel like your class was (usually) the right balance of work and joking around (not that there isn’t room for improvement in that ratio…specifically towards the joking around side). But, like I said, I bitched and moaned and threw sarcastic comments at you all year, but I also learned and ‘grew as a writer’ (I couldn’t think of a less cliche way to phrase that) and I thank you for both years of English. They were…an experience…to say the least. I won’t say adios, ‘cause I might be back here eventually, student teaching (if you’ll even take another student teacher after Blitzkrieg Bop turned out to be a flop…).

God I was such a little fucking shit as a student in this class. Haha, looking back although a huge a pain in the ass and way more difficult that Western Lit ever could hope to be, this was a solid class - AP 12. But honestly, hindsight is 20/20. And if, in fact, Supe is still lurking on this page, I still mean every word on this page. Compliments too...

Thought you'd all enjoy a little pre-blog writing. I've really 'grown as a writer' right? Bahah bullshit I could have cranked that out yesterday, I still am a smart-ass, stream of consiousness, hot-mess when it comes to informal writing....oh well, some things never change.

.

Do what makes you happy.

Be with the people who make you smile

Laugh as much as you breathe.

Love as long as you life.

And fuck everything else.

Honestly, that's about all I've got left in me to pass to on you all. P&B.