A is for Art Gallery

Pick a painting to work with. Go for something figurative. Tell its story in detail as if you’re describing a scene. Stay within the frame. Focus on describing what you see before moving on to the ‘story’. When you’ve written for at least 20 minutes, allow yourself only one reference to what’s going on beyond the frame. Come back to describing what’s in the frame.

The Old Guitarist, Pablo Picasso

 

The man sat alone, a guitar resting in his lap.

his back arched like an arm of an old ancient tree.

His limbs were tired and his eyes held a silent agony.

His skin was a signature pale blue,

A blue that belonged only to the souls that had met death’s final embrace.

His neck hung low in weak submission as he strummed a slow melancholy tune.

The lines on his face held a tortured expression as he sung of his loss.

He played silently as the slow melody was lost to the cold evening air.

 

In a final breath his song came to end 

the wind whistled loudly

and the sound of tides moving up and down the shore filled the world.

The man sat motionless

his eyes finally free of that silent agony

instead there was a shiny glint in them.

His limbs were finally free of strain as the man rested on the hard wood beneath him.

His fingers still rested on the strings as if they refused to let go,

even in death.

 

E is for Emergency Room 

Watch and write. Write about the different times you’ve been to the ER. Focus on the staff, the doctors, nurses, cleaners,x-ray technician, volunteers. Eavesdrop or talk to people, both staff and patients. Later, or while you’re there, connect the people into the story. As you write, discover who the main character is, the one who holds the story together. 

 

I have only been to the ER once in my life and that was when I realized that I never wanted to be in one ever again. So first off just the atmosphere of an emergency room is strange; the lighting is florescent white and it creates a very unsettling and clinical mood in the place that makes you feelQ very uncomfortable, not to mention all of the hospital noises like the sound of constant foot steps moving up and down the hallways, the sound of the  squeaky leather on the chairs, the low sounds of  wheels rolling on the tiled flooring, they all make you aware of the sheer silence that is alive in an emergency room.

 

The people their are relatively normal, but their was this one that I remember, I don’t know what was wrong with him but it looked like he was on something pretty strong. He was dressed in an hospital gown and was attached to an I.V, and he kept on yelling like he was in excruciating pain but it looked like he was doing it for attention or something, because he looked completely fine and it was just making everyone extremely uncomfortable. Like it wasn’t already bad enough that we all had to be in this totally uncomfortable room this guy was just making the whole experience even worse. He fortunately fell asleep after awhile and I was grateful.

 

I haven’t had to go to an emergency room ever since, and I lets hope I never have to ever again, because that experience will keep me from stepping foot into another one for awhile.

 

Q is for Quay

Write about movement. Sit and watch the world go by. Notice the differences between land and water, and sky. Tell a story of a character who transforms when the move from one element to the next, write about this changes their life, their relationships, their daily routines.

 

When I was the wind I was free.

I had the world in the palm of my hands.

I flowed through the branches of trees,

I drifted from the past, to the present, into the future.

I was what brought you joy in the warm summer evenings,

I was what made you shudder on a cold winters morning.

I brought to you the sweet scent of wild flowers on the early days of spring.

I was what brought down the warm hues of reds and yellows of fall from the highest of trees.

 

When I was earth I was stable.

I grew and nurtured the living both in life and death.

I brought to you the sweet flowers of July,

and the great harvests of October.

I went to deepest depths of the earth to the highest peaks of mountains.

I held the secrets of the past,

I held the past and the future.

I was the barrier between the wild waters of the ocean,

and the fierce storms of the wind.

 

When I was fire I was unbroken.

I brought you light in a world of darkness.

I was the warmth in the coldest of winters.

I brought destruction to this world,

burning what ever was in my path until all was left was ashes.

I was made of pure power,

but without timber to power me I was left to wither out.

I took from the world until their was nothing left and I was left to wither out.

 

When I was water I was pure.

I was what birthed life onto this earth.

I was clear and leveled.

I brought hope in the darkest of times.

I held a sense of mystery,

in my dark depths I held life and death.