Writing from ‘Where’ + Daily Object Writing

As I mentioned yesterday, this week’s task is to write from a sense of ‘where’, or place. Other writing requirements today: 1st person point of view, present tenses, including all the senses (sight, touch, taste, smell, hearing, body, + motion), sentence types (questions + conditionals). You try it: Set a timer, write, + STOP when the timer goes off. You just want to get into good writing habits. They don’t happen by themselves.  Try it and let me know how it goes.

Here are my writings from today. I will try to hide the long ones behind links, as soon as I learn how to do it.

Open Field
I crested the hill, watching the horizon lift to meet my face, thin line of white clouds over arching cusp of the blue horizon as far as I could see. Seagulls called to one other in panic above me. What did they fear? A cold wind kicked up like a temper tantrum, not wanting to be outdone by the ocean’s commanding vista. A shiver ran down both arms, raising the hair up in alarm, and I pulled my grey, wool sweater closed in front of my clavicles. Salt and hair competed for space in my mouth, like two moles vying for the same warm and toasty den. I spat them out but they were not to be controlled. If the wind stays this way, I won’t be able to be out here on the hill for long. Long slivers of grass seemed to huddle together for warmth. The sun warmed my face, as if God had put the toaster on the lowest setting possible. The blues and greens of the ocean swayed together in a mix. Inspiration and awe rose in my chest, as if the waves of the water lifted my lungs in unison. Maybe I could convince Mark to live here.

Swimming Hole
I scrambled out of the yellow and wood-grain covered station wagon, competing for first one out the door with my two brothers. I muscled Pete and Avery out of the way, stomping on Pete’s foot as I deftly opened the door just before sprinting out. Pete’s reflexes caused Avery to tumble into Pete. I could hear them argue as time rushed through my ears. If I didn’t stop, I would be first one down to the swimming hole. I heard our parents call my name, as if the trees whispered it in my ear. The dirt path swerved downwards. The unexpected change under my feet made my heart leapt into my throat. I felt strangled by my own lungs as they battled to make sure I had enough oxygen. The thin woods were filled with families talking, chatting. Kids laughed, screamed, and ran around me. Cars, minivans, station wagons, SUVs, trailers snaked a parking line along basecamps. Everything blurred as I ran.  After a zig and a zag, I saw it, my goal, the swimming hole.  As I ran down the slope, I yanked off my T-shirt and threw it aside. Kids walked by with towels around their shoulders. A line of parents with toddlers waited outside the shower-bathroom stalls. Woo-hoo! I yelled as I was approaching the swimming hole, not caring who saw me. The short pier screamed its invitational like the red carpet leading to the Academy Awards. The swimming hole, tried and true, over these last three years. My eyes solely focused on the pier. I barreled down past a group of three brothers, huddled after their swim in the hole. One of them tried to stick his foot out to stop me. If he only knew how focused I was, he would have known it was useless. Stupid jerk! Who does he think he is? My foot pounded on the wooden planks. Bam! Left foot, right, left, right. Almost there. Other little kids were grabbed by their moms who pulled them out of my way just in time, like the Red Sea parting for Moses. Still in my chucks, I hurled myself off the end of the pier, pulled up my knees, closed my eyes and

Fourth floor walk up
How long will this take? Huff, puff. I drag one leg at a time. If I just take it one at a time, I can make. Fifty years of human steps up the center of the marble steps warped them into smooth grooves, like a smooth slide. Carefully stepping to the ballasters, I grabbed on. One, two. How many more? The railing ricketed back and forth harder and harder as I gripped it. Squeak! </a>


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