I'm still working on my goals for the new year, but one thing I know I want to do more of is delve into my artistic and creative side, especially writing. If completing NaNoWriMo this year accomplished anything substantial for me it was taking the idea that I thought I could write a book, and turned it into a quantifiable fact. Now I
know I can write a book. I have done it! So now I want to continue to cultivate and foster that new enthusiastic momentum by doing regular writing exercises. I am planning to get them into a set routine, but while I am working on that I have decided to jump right into it without waiting for perfection.
Writing Exercise #1
Use the prompt to write the beginning of a story. Write for at least 20 min.
**The ghost was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich**
Whatever Eliot was prepared for, as he headed into the kitchen to nuke a bowl of Easy Mac, he wasn't prepared for what he saw. On a normal day, he may have expected to see the milk left out on the counter getting warm and potentially ruining his goal of having a nice cool satisfying bowl of Lucky Charms mixed with Cinnamon Toast Crunch after a long day at the Quick Mart. He might also have anticipated running into his roommate Jessica, asking him if he had eaten the last of her Brie (maybe?...he couldn't remember) and why he was home from work so early. Not because she was concerned about him, but because she was concerned about the store, since Jessica was also his boss. He probably didn't
really expect to see Stan, from building maintenance in there fixing the fluorescent light that never stayed on and usually flickered out after about 20 minutes so that was not a surprise at all.
The thing that Eliot was most unprepared for as he walked into that kitchen was to see a ghost sitting there, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He knew that it was a ghost and not just one of Jessica's friends due to the fact that the guy was transparent. Eliot could easily see the other side of the kitchen right through the guy, although he noticed he was not watching the sandwich digest in the ghost's body. Strange. Maybe it was a ghost sandwich too, Eliot mused. The ghost sat on one of the bar-stool style seats that sat at the kitchenette counter. His legs, which were bare from the edge of his cargo shorts down to the lace-less Chuck Taylors, dangled down without reaching the ground. The counter had peanut butter, bread, jelly, two used knives and the bread's twisty-tie strewn all over it. So much for the ghost sandwich theory.
Eliot stared at him.
"You...you aren't supposed to be here. What are you
doing here? How can you even eat? You're...dead." That word, dead, had such a finality to it. Like a dead bold sliding into place across a door. There was no coming back from that word.
The ghost looked up from his sandwich and looked at Eliot, meeting his gaze. A bemused expression moving over his face settling into the place where vigorous chewing had been happening mere moments before.
"Eliot, really," the ghost said "is that anyway to greet an old friend? I mean, I've come all the way back from the grave...as you mortals like to say." he gave a slight frown "When did you switch to Skippy? I preferred the Jiff."
Suddenly he waved away the thought and gave Eliot a conspiratorial look
"Listen, I've come back for a
reason and you're going to want to know what it is." He flashed a devilish smile "I'm going to need your help with what I mean to do.."
