aerobics for writers
Sep. 2nd, 2002 11:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lobelia321Still in writing crisis, I thought I could maybe limber up the ol' writing muscles by trying some of these:
Writing exercises (gacked from John Gardner, Art of Fiction)
1) Write the paragraph that comes just before the discovery of a body.
(starring Richard Taylor, man from WETA - as seen on FotR DVD)
There was no sound. Richard's footsteps were swallowed by the plush carpet. Anybody's footsteps would be swallowed. Somebody could be coming up the stairs behind him, and he'd never know about it. Richard spun around, his hand tightening around the car keys in his pocket. The hallway was empty. A shadow moved but it was only a moth. He unclenched his fingers and continued on up. A few more steps, and he'd reached the top of the stairs. A windowless corridor stretched in both directions. Tired bulbs spread yellow light. Richard dropped his gaze. There were flowers and tendrils on the carpet, interlocking rhomboids, speckled birds. Blood-coloured buds blossomed inbetween. Richard knelt down and narrowed his eyes. He brushed his fingers across the red beads. They were still moist.
Heh. I'll do another one tomorrow!
Writing exercises (gacked from John Gardner, Art of Fiction)
1) Write the paragraph that comes just before the discovery of a body.
(starring Richard Taylor, man from WETA - as seen on FotR DVD)
There was no sound. Richard's footsteps were swallowed by the plush carpet. Anybody's footsteps would be swallowed. Somebody could be coming up the stairs behind him, and he'd never know about it. Richard spun around, his hand tightening around the car keys in his pocket. The hallway was empty. A shadow moved but it was only a moth. He unclenched his fingers and continued on up. A few more steps, and he'd reached the top of the stairs. A windowless corridor stretched in both directions. Tired bulbs spread yellow light. Richard dropped his gaze. There were flowers and tendrils on the carpet, interlocking rhomboids, speckled birds. Blood-coloured buds blossomed inbetween. Richard knelt down and narrowed his eyes. He brushed his fingers across the red beads. They were still moist.
Heh. I'll do another one tomorrow!