Nutschell Windsor, AKA the writing nut http://www.thewritingnut.com/, is amazing. She and Alana Garrigues did an amazing job running the writing day anthology for our second 'Story Sprouts' publication; due out end of September.
The anthology, this years and the one already available on Amazon in print and ebook, contains all the exercises that the group ran through to create their pieces. The exercises are great and the book is a great resource for writers.
We wrote for ten exercises and not all ten will get published so I am going to use one of them as a #saturdayscence, started by John Ward.
In this writing exercise we had to find an object that had been placed around the room and write from the point of view of the object.
Enjoy and Happy Writing!
Alamar’s eyes adjusted to the bright florescent lights. He was finally out of that horrible plastic bag but where was he now? He missed Amy’s room. She had packed him and his friends into a plastic bag weeks ago and today the bag had taken a journey somewhere.
There were a lot of pinging noises, garbled voices over a speaker, and adult voices. He was hoping for kids. Alamar wanted to be played with again, like Amy used to.
He was grasped by a large adult hand, Alamar was diminutive for a teddy bear, better suited to a small child. His spirits rose as the hand turned him around Alamar saw rows of beds and children. Why had he not heard them? The adult held his friend Gavine in his other hand. They were both held out for inspection by a little boy lying in his bed. It was a strange bed. The top raised up and it had bars on the sides. The boy pointed to Gavine and the man placed him in the boy’s hand.
Alamar was placed next to a sleeping girl. She was young. That was good. Alamar noticed a lot of wires and tubes attached to the girl that was unusual.
Alamar was squeezed tightly. What was happening? The girl grasped him in an iron fist as the nurse searched for a new place to put the needle. This pain was not what Alamar wanted he wanted to be played with again. Have tea parties. Then he felt the wet tears as he was pressed to the girls cheek. This was better than a tea party, he was helping her. He could feel it. He sent out all the love he could. This was where he was meant to be.