Creative Writing Workshop

Assignment 1 – Imagery – look at someone’s signature written with their weak hand. Analyze the signature to come up with character traits. In 5 minutes write something on the character starting with “(character) stepped onto a bus…”

An old woman stepped onto the bus. She grasp the railing for support as if she didn’t trust her legs to hold her as she slowly climbed up. Scanning the faces of the bus for a close but safe seat, her eyes landed on me. She had kind eyes, like those that would sit and listen to someone’s story for hours only offering honest encouragement in the end. I didn’t want her to sit next to me. I didn’t want to share my story.

Assignment 2 – chose an emotion off the list, write a repetitive piece “_______ is…”

Depression is a dark void.
Depression is a lost love, a loss of self.
Depression is not being who you wish to be.
Depression is a lonely feeling even in a crowd.
Depression is nothingness; a lack of interest
a loss of a dream, a loss of hope for happiness.
Depression is a feeling of rejection.
A feeling of disappointing the world and yourself.
Depression is a fall down a slippery slope.
Depression is dark and destructive.
Find the light. Grab the rope.
Take joy where you can.

Assignment 3 – reoccurrence

Helen took joy in the little things.
Although her life had ups and downs,
And illness now brought her closer to the end,
She found joy.
Joy was in her grandchildren’s delight at Christmas
And giggles during tag.
Joy was in a mother’s growing belly
and the sparkle in her eyes when she speaks of names like Beth and Lilly.
Joy is in her famous peach cobbler, and coffee with the neighbors.
Joy is in watching the squirrels play and hummingbirds hover.
Joy is in ripened red tomatoes grown in her garden.
and the roaring cheers from the den on SuperBowl Sunday.
Joy is a house full of family, sharing stories
and creating new memories.
Yes, Helen took joy in the little things.

Assignment 4

Haiku

Natural mountain spring
Crystal clear water
most refreshing thing

Haiku

Snow melting away
Flowers popping up
Birds awakening

Assignment 5 – Metaphors / Similes exercise

Spring is like a flower blooming, starting from nothing, sprouting, growing, opening into beauty.

Spring is Earth awakening from hibernation.

Spring is like ice melting into mud then morphing into grass.

Spring is like God turning the light on in a room of darkness, and the room shouting surprise.

Assignment 6 – Personification

I am Spring.
I may come across cold and bitter
but I warm up the further I get
from my frenemy Winter.
I shine and dance and grow all day.
I bring the sun and melt the snow away.
I bring flowers to your yards and leaves to your trees
I make the birds play with the bumble bees.
Everybody loves me!
Oh, what’s that you say?
I make your eyes sting and your nose sneeze?
Your asthma flairs up and your lungs wheeze?
Well yes….but isn’t my beauty worth it my dear?

Assignment 7 – use photograph given as a prompt

I wake in the night to screams of pain and fear.
I slip from my tent. The camp is chaos and blood.
I had heard, but never before believed.
Now I see them with my own eyes.
One howling on the roof of a nearby hut.
Another in the shadows, biting a woman’s neck.

Fire! I think. I grab a downed branch from the ground and light it.
Fire is the only thing that can save me.
Fire is the only thing they fear.

I must escape. I must get to the next village for help.
I pry a cross-bow from a dead man’s hand just in time to use it.
The creature yelps and falls over. But now the others see me.

I run into the forest, flaming branch in my hand.
My bare feet bloody, running over twigs and rocks.
The pain is razor sharp, but the fear pushes me on.
I can hear them on the chase behind me.
There’ll be no way to hide;
The smell of my blood and fear leading them to me.

My lungs feel ready to explode.
My legs feel ready to crumble.
But the howls pursue me. I must not fall.

The village should be just over the next ridge.
I must keep going. I must warn them.
Downhill now. Easier. The forest parts.
I see the gates of the village ahead
I run toward them through the open field
Torching each hay stack I pass as I go.

It buys me time as the creatures stay further from the fire.
The guards sound the alarm. I yell out to them.
They let me in, locking the gates behind me.

I make it. I am alive.
Fire is the only thing that saves me.
Fire is the only thing they fear.

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