Butterflies and Glitter

by Davina on September 1, 2010

Writing Challenge #9

Hi everyone. The second-last participant in this creative writing challenge is Joy from Unfolding Your Path to Joy.

In Joy’s version of these nine words, she tells a cute story of young romance; yet another flavour we haven’t seen. There are matters of the heart here, both in her creative writing and in her process for this challenge.

Joy shares some words of wisdom about her process:

I try not to label myself, but I would say I am “not a fiction writer”. Just because I would say that I thought I should try.

What I truly believe is that I *am* anything I allow myself to be and the moment I decide to “try” is the moment a shift occurs throughout all areas of my life. I embrace that thoroughly and am always excited to see how the momentum from even one tiny step forward in one simple area such as this, enriches my life in delight-filled ways.

When I allow my heart to be open to the moment as it is, then *anything* truly is possible. To allow my heart to open fully, I savor all that is familiar to me and brings me joy; yet I also stretch to try new and different. I find when I try new and different in one area, all areas of my life are open. Participating in this challenge was new and different for me, because I don’t think of myself as a fiction writer and I find it difficult to write with constraints – in this case incorporating a specific set of nine words into a 100-word story. I opened my heart and I did it, and *the doing of it* is the best reward. It allows me to consider what else is possible if I just open my heart and try.

Butterflies and Glitter

When I was 7 – and wearing my butterflies and glitter headband – I told Timothy “you’re my boyfriend”,  then kissed him.  That year, he moved.

When I was 12,  standing with Jerome and Rena – wearing my butterflies and glitter headband; “Hi, Joy.”

Timothy! I felt my heart swell – two small words, the magnitude of which sent my spirit soaring. If I could fly, I would have touched the moon.

I could barely concentrate in typography class.

Class ended. I ran right into the open closet door, knocking me to the floor.

The slow death of embarrassment.

Timothy offered his hand.

* * * * * * * *

This is precious, Joy. Soulful. Thank you.

There’s such an endearing quality about your writing and your story, reflected by how you opened yourself to the creative process. I love how you say “the doing of it is the best reward”. It leads me to believe you were fearless, despite this being your first time writing fiction. You just let it unfold.

Here there is young love, a good-bye and then a reunion. I love the promise of what is to come after Timothy offers his hand to the writer. Interesting that the writer is, in a sense, a mystery character who remains nameless. :-)

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The Fishing Trip

by Davina on August 29, 2010

Writing Challenge #8

Linda, from Roses to Rainbows is our next victim volunteer for this creative writing challenge. I’m already hooked on this one just by looking at the photograph. I expect at any minute, to see a wooden raft float past, carrying Huck Finn. Linda’s version of these nine words seems to be the perfect read for a lazy Sunday morning. What do you think?

This is what Linda says about the challenge:

“This was yet another writing challenge that I couldn’t pass up.  I was intrigued by the challenge of taking nine unrelated words and building a story from them.  My thought process is simple.  I write down key words and phrases and let the story tell itself.  I did pretty much the same thing here with these nine words.  I wrote each word down and added words to create phrases.  It was from these phrases that I found the story.  The key phrase was fly fishing.”

* * * * * * * *

As he sat by the river, Timothy tied new lures in anticipation of a weekend of the highest magnitudefly fishing with his brother Jerome, who’d be driving up tomorrow. Their father, a typography expert, had taught them the art when they were boys, and he would swell with pride each time one of them caught a trout. They continue to share his passion, though it’s bittersweet since his death five years ago. Finished with the lures, Timothy called his dog, Rena, to go inside, and stowed the fishing gear in the closet until tomorrow.

* * * * * * * *

Thank you Linda. This is beautiful and has a real peaceful quality about it. I can appreciate your process of choosing certain words to create phrases and let the story tell itself. It worked very well here. The story flows smoothly and quietly, with no obvious sign that you were guided to use nine specific words.

I find myself remembering long lazy summer afternoons past that were spent sitting by a river just listening to it. There is a metaphor here in the sense that you used the words to hook (or bait — pun intended) the story. I’m curious; do you or have you gone fly fishing?

The Picture
This is the Yadkin River here in NC.  There are actually places along the river good for fly fishing.

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Quitting the Challenge

by Davina on August 27, 2010

Writing Challenge #7

Raul from Alien Ghost has done a swell job at humour for his version of this creative writing challenge. Since he’s bolded the nine words I won’t be listing them this time.

Raul’s process was simple:

“What the process was like?  That was a fun challenge! I wrote several things but decided to go with this one thinking it’ll be funnier and different.”

* * * * * * * *

“Davina, you didn’t specify the typography we can use; I asked Timothy but he will fly to London today and Jerome is still in the closet. I know, with the magnitude of this challenge someone is going to swell with pride, but I don’t want to work myself to death, so decided instead to go out with Rena to have a coffee…sorry.”

* * * * * * * *

Raul has succeeded in creating something very different and funny here, don’t you agree? It makes me wonder if this is the result of some of his Toilet Wisdom. In that post he says, “To the toilet we show our real face.”

I wonder what would have happened if I had specified the type of typography? I wonder what Jerome is doing in the closet and what is in London for Timothy? But most importantly, I wonder what kind of coffee Raul and Rena enjoyed… and if Lily knew about it :-)

Thanks, Raul… this was a hoot!

Photo credit: My wife Lily and I, by Raul.

We’re nearing the end of this creative writing challenge. There are three more to post:

1. The Fishing Trip;
2. Butterflies and Glitter;
3. Timothy Hay;
plus two of mine that I will save for one post at the end.

In the meantime, if you want to practice with another set of nine words, try these:

spider, mistake, beige, ringing, sentence, adjust, match, audience, turmeric

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Sitting on Top of the World

by Davina on August 25, 2010

Writing Challenge #6

Say hi to Julie Angelos at An Online Journal, the sixth writer in this creative writing challenge. She has also used the following nine words: Fly, Magnitude, Timothy, Typography, Death, Closet, Swell, Rena, Jerome.

Julie talks about her process:

“I took the challenge of writing using nine specific words because it was new to me. I’ve never written fiction. In fact, I have a hard time writing things that aren’t a journal. I’ve never understood how people could write made up stories. I thought I’d try. The first time round, my paragraph was too long, so I was asked to do a rewrite. I kept thinking and thinking how I could get all of the nine words together, much like a crossword puzzle where you come up with the answer at an later moment. I got as many of the nine key words into the first sentence as I could and the rest sort of followed. I’m not certain if I like the outcome, however, because, I’m not sure if it offers something worthwhile to the reader.”

Sitting on Top of the World

Surfers Rena, Jerome and Timothy were overwhelmed with the magnitude of the giant swell that screamed death. They knew they could fly on a wave like that. Still they knew they had to overcome their fears. It had always been a closet dream to just live with wild abandonment. They checked the time. If they started now, they’d make it to their typography class by noon.

* * * * * * * *

Thanks, Julie. I think your passage offers a lot to the reader. I feel I’ve been left “perched” on the edge of my imagination, wondering how the surfers made out with that giant swell. You used the nine words so beautifully. It’s not obvious that you were trying to make them fit together. They simply flow. And the photograph you chose is gorgeous.

Photo Credit: Michael Voorhees Photography

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A Certain “Type” of Mystery

by Davina on August 22, 2010

Writing Challenge #5

On August 5th, Hilary from Positive Letters shared her rendition of this 100-word creative writing challenge in the comment section. Like everyone else, she used the nine words that by now, most of you have probably memorized, lol:

Fly, Magnitude, Timothy, Typography, Death, Closet, Swell, Rena, Jerome. Hilary’s version went like this:

Who done it?

The fly buzzed around Timothy, death was not far away; the swell of the closet curtains in the evening breeze showed the air circulating, keeping it fresh for now.

Rena and Jerome worked happily on with their typography, the magnitude of their father’s project keeping them fully involved – forgetting about his ‘temporary’ absence.

Joe, the typesetter, Amanda, the glyph modifier, Andrew, the art director, worked nearby. Cluedo has a new room, new death and new murderer. Who murdered Timothy in the closet with a typesetter’s lead-based alloy?

A discussion ensued whereby I failed to guess who the murderer was and how Timothy had died in the closet.

Hilary, bless her heart, has since written a delightful “who-done-it” feature to reveal the mystery behind this typographic caper. She has done a brilliant job. This is a longer post than usual, so grab a coffee, sit back and enjoy. Thank you, Hilary. This has been such a treat. You’re a dear.

The Typographic Caper

Mr. Marchant, the old boy from the Gatehouse, seemed to be around rather more than necessary, asking the Cluedo mansion residents more questions than they felt were necessary. They noticed that he too was in and out of the industrial units questioning all and sundry about Timothy’s unseemly death.

Natural causes it seemed to them, but Mr Marchant’s nose was smelling a rat. Had the Cluedo players played too much? Had reality set in?

Marchant was an unknown. He’d been to dinner parties at the Mansion, appearing very erudite and interested in their goings on, while the community activities he quietly participated in. He knew the inhabitants, but they, so self-absorbed, had asked little about him – so knew little!

What had happened to Timothy? Was the typography business a goner as Allison suggested in You’re Killing Me with Typography? Was Jerome covering up for Rena while she escaped for some space?

Marchant, his unfaltering features giving little away, probed and probed. The Detective leading the case began to lean on him. DC Stevens realised lines of inquiry were being followed and Marchant was doing a fine job, leaving him the DC to establish other facts or fiction… or dare I say it, lies.

Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory had the dagger tucked into his belt as always. He stirred his Moutarde de Maeaux to keep the Pommery mustard fresh. He was stingy – no-one was allowed to share. His moustache was twitching just slightly – could anyone notice? He was a jittery fellow.

Reverend Green spent most of his time in the Library reading, researching and refuelling his brain. Most were full of envy about  it. It contained so much; a wealth of information. But the spanner, why did he bookmark with a spanner in this day and age? To keep it in his possession? Ah – now that was a question.

Professor Plum, with his bruised and rotting plum-coloured florid face, spent a great deal of time in the kitchen twiddling with his bottles and brews of sloes, damsons, plums. All well slobbered over when the alcohol went in – far too much, but did he admit that – enjoying the slurps too too much. He kept spilling the wax from the Candlestick, so that was forever present.

Ah, now the ladies – Miss Scarlett; she would need the revolver. She was of the ilk that made that instant pull the trigger decision – bang bang and you’re dead – but Timothy didn’t die that way. Bang bang, she was in the billiard room – bonging the balls around, making that dreadful unpredictable noise, buffeted between the ballroom and the hall. A muffled sound perhaps.

Mrs. White the all pristine ex housekeeper who abhorred all dirt, weaved her cleanly ways through life, or was she? The rope she used was always tattered. She unwove it to tie away dirty things, then rewove the rope when she could clear that mess away; she was thrifty, but Marchant felt there was a ‘but’ – she lounged a lot, in the lounge.

Mrs. Peacock; “Now there’s a one,” Marchant thought. All splutter and not much body; certainly not a body like Miss Scarlett, but she was a home-maker. She was always in the Dining Room setting lunch or dinner, ready for carving whatever joint might be served with the dagger at the ready. Ah, but what dagger? Colonel Mustard had the dagger, didn’t he?

Marchant pondered on; Stevens, too. They both checked out the Typographical business. Rena and Jerome were distraught by their father’s sudden demise. Why? Without warning. How? The answers didn’t immediately come.

Joe, the typesetter, was a sturdy fellow, sure in his work. While Amanda, the glyph modifier; now, there was something indecipherable about her. Did she know more than she let on about her craft? And finally, Andrew, the art director, appeared to be managing the project rather than being artistic and, dare I say it, crafty?

Various items from the Mansion were sent away for analysis.

Marchant went into the Library with the Reverend Green and they had long and quiet discursive musings, the Reverend getting up and bringing books to be referred to. What were they looking into?

The modern way of instant research via the Internet seemed the most satisfactory to the industrial unit and similar inhabitant. But to the Cluedo residents, what on earth was going on? The Mansion did not have WiFi, so connection could not be made.

Marchant and Stevens conferred at the Gatehouse, where WiFi was available – everyone was held in thrall. Suddenly a meeting was called to the community hall on the estate. Everyone was rounded up to attend. All were called away, no matter how inconvenient.

How did Timothy die?

The closet was off the Hall in the Cluedo Mansion. Why had Timothy been there at all?

Stevens began by welcoming everyone – to a murder investigation, seemed strange – while Marchant kept a wary eye. Stevens took everyone through the events,  then introduced Marchant as “Chief Superintendent Marchant of the Metropolitan Police”. Everyone’s mouths dropped and their eyes widened. Now they knew why he knew so much, but they knew so little.

Marchant summarised and then quietly looked at Colonel Mustard, the man with the feathering moustache that occasionally twitched. Could he see the dagger? Ah yes! A copy from the theatre props.

Marchant suggested that a slice had been taken off the lead pipe – that slice being left in the mustard over the years, causing Timothy a slow death. Colonel Mustard was mean, his Meaux was not to be shared, even on Timothy’s sandwiches. So, the generous offering at Christmas was not generous. It had been a poisonous threat over many years. Timothy suffered as he regularly added Moutarde de Meaux to his lunchtime sandwiches, which Colonel Mustard so generously offered to refill, thus ensuring the poisoning went on.

Where was the lead pipe? Had it ever had a slice removed? We will never know. Joe, the typesetter, said he’d recently been given the lead pipe by Colonel Mustard to make some replacement typefaces and yes, it was about the time Timothy became unwell. The lead pipe had been flattened in the process.

Colonel Mustard started blustering and blabbering, but to no avail. He’d been caught in the end, in the closet with the lead pipe. Off with his head, as the saying goes.

* * * * * * * *

When I asked Hilary what the process was like, this is what she told me:

“I mulled it over a bit as I drove back and forth to see my mother – an hour each way. Then, I just sat and wrote it using the Cluedo characters. I looked up Typography and saw that lead was a major component ‘way back when’ and having researched about the Romans using lead piping, and that glyphs had recently come into a comment on a post, I weaved the parts together.

So I weave fragments of interest together that intrigue and draw readers in – at least that’s my intention! Covering all the disciplines that I have some semblance of understanding.

Cluedo came to the fore, so the nine words became a ‘who dunnit’ in one hundred words.  I didn’t want to use my own words, that was defeating the exercise. However, the three names baffled me for a while. I think what Rebecca has done with her biblical story Acts of a Thief and Bishop, is brilliant, on top of which she full kept to the brief and wrote the whole story in 100 words.

I just had to knuckle under and write.”

Fantastic job, Hilary! I really enjoyed this. Thank you :-)

Photo credit: Misocrazy

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Memories

by Davina on August 20, 2010

Writing Challenge #4

Eliza Fayle from Silver & Grace is the next writer to take on this creative writing challenge and the words Fly, Magnitude, Timothy, Typography, Death, Closet, Swell, Rena, Jerome.

She has written fiction in the past and this is what she says about this challenge:

“Sigh. As you know, I went through a period of writing fiction on a regular basis. I have not written a word of fiction in over a year. How did this feel? FANTASTIC!!!! Hmmmm …. *tries to figure out how to squeeze in fiction writing time*”

Memories

Timothy opened the closet door. It was his job to pack up his Grandmother Rena’s keepsakes. The magnitude of this task paling in comparison to the magnitude of the loss.

It was Jerome who let Timothy know of her passing. The typography of the email so cold for such an emotion laden missive. Her death was unexpected; no time to fly home.

Lifting the first box out of the closet, Timothy sat down on the floor, raising the lid. He felt his heart swell.

Coincidence that he started with this box?

Timothy began to carefully lift out memories of himself.

* * * * * * * *

Eliza, thanks for your submission. I feel somewhat triumphant, knowing you were so enticed to jump into this challenge. Maybe we’ll see some more fiction from you now :-) I miss your fiction.

I love the mood that you have set with this; especially the obvious cold delivery of this type of message via email. I can visualize myself being there with Timothy and looking through old photographs. I appreciate how the magnitude of the loss is somewhat coloured by the memories as his heart swells. Makes me feel a little melancholy.

Photo credit: Sam

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New Reality Show Coming to a Tree Near You

August 18, 2010

Writing Challenge #3
The next submission to this creative writing challenge is from Sara at A Sharing Connection.
Sara is no stranger to writing challenges as she issues one to her readers every Monday with her Story Photo series. One of my favourites was this one entitled, Chair Photos.
In this post, she asked her readers to choose [...]

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Acts of a Thief and Bishop

August 15, 2010

Writing Challenge #2
Hi everyone. Give a hearty welcome to a new face here at Shades of Crimson.
Rebecca Dempsey from WritingBec’s Blog has been published as a book and film reviewer, has won short story contests, attempted screenplays (including, eek, fanfic) and had novel ideas and ideas for novels. Her site is full of random musings [...]

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You’re Killing Me With Typography

August 11, 2010

Writing Challenge #1
In my last post I invited readers to try their hand at creative writing by writing a short story of no more than 100 words and incorporating the following 9 words:
Fly, Magnitude, Timothy, Typography, Death, Closet, Swell, Rena, Jerome.
A couple of hours later I’d already received the first submission from Allison Day. [...]

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I’m Not Blogging; You Are

August 1, 2010

The words just write
Compromise. Blogging still has its grip on me, as you may have noticed. Yah, yah.
I’ve been prompted with another post idea that I will issue to you as a writing challenge, while I’m… ahem… breaking from the blog *snort*.
Today I completed another writing exercise to encourage a piece of fiction for the [...]

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Where I’m from is Elementary

July 28, 2010

“We hide from ‘painful’ feelings; embarrassed. If you’re an artist, a writer, a dancer, etc., express the ‘sad’. It could be your best work.”
Write the sad; right the sad
Been feeling sad lately. Well, sort of…
Denying the sadness, actually. Closing the door on it. What I’ve realized is that by closing the door I’ve [...]

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Oh, Nothing

July 18, 2010

“One creates from nothing.
If you try to create from something you’re just changing something.
So in order to create something you first have to be able to create nothing. ” ~ Werner Erhard
Sometimes it’s better to say nothing because it means something to everyone.
Nothing.
A space waiting to be filled.
With whatever you want to put into it.
Nothing [...]

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