Have you ever sat down to write but don’t know what to write about? I was on a creative writing course and the tutor said that when this happens you should set an alarm for 15 minutes and start writing, anything, whatever comes into your head. It is the equivalent of stretching and warming up before you start your real exercise. A way of getting your writing muscles warmed up and ready to go.
Much to my surprise, I find it works and sometimes you can even craft something out of the nonsense you have written.
Below is an example of one of mine – can you make anything sensible out of it – I doubt it!
AJ got wearily out of bed and flapped down the corridor to the kitchen in his PJs. The legs were eleven and a half inches too long so he dusted as he went. He felt very Gallic in his tricoleur night wear this morning.
He was tired this morning as he had been working all night at GJ’s disco where he was the DJ. There had been a bit of a mashup with his girlfriend, MJ, just after midnight but it was resolved now.
He opened the ‘fridge and poured himself a glass of OJ before sitting down at the periodic table which he quickly switched to daily as he liked some breakfast at twenty four hour intervals. He checked for any changes and saw that Fluorine was getting a little too isotopic so he would soon have too adjust its atomic weight. These halogens were just too damn bright sometimes.
AJ read the contents list on the side of the packet of cornflakes as he shook some into his bowl. He saw that they had added iron so he took that out as he didn’t want to get too mafic today.
He wondered why the flakes were still wrinkly after all that ironing and drefted off into a dream world where all the soap flakes were perfectly flat and square.
‘Those were the days,’ he mused as he spread an inordinate quantity of Marmite on his pre toast sandwiches ready for his day in court as a juror. It was a murder trial so would probably last all day if he was any judge.
He wasn’t, someone else in a bright red dress had got there first, so the trial lasted for two months. Everyone felt sympathy for the poor lawyers who were struggling to make a living.
The accused was in the dock, in Felixstowe, so was being tried in absentia, just across the road from her sister absynthia in Wimbledon.
‘Quiet please’ called the umpire as the first game started in the centre court.
© Richard Kefford Eorðdraca
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