Category Archives: #Writing Exercise

Irksome People

Daily Prompt

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     Nora sets two hot coffee containers on the reception desk then places her handbag on the swivel chair. She removes her coat walking towards the open closet door, several winter coats hang lazily on hangers inside. She buttons her Mohair wool jacket to a wooden one, to prevent it slipping to the floor, and turns to see Don, wearing a smile, wiggling out of his leather bomber.

     Nora says, “Good Morning, Don, I brought you coffee.”

     “Thanks Nora, a peace offering or you gonna start?” He reaches for a hanger and drapes his jacket on it. The heavy shoulders pull to one side and the end of the hanger pokes the forearm of the garment.

     She answers, “Peace offering, although I find it irksome and would not abuse such a beautiful article of clothing if it were mine, it’s yours and you have every right to hang it anyway you like.”

     Don’s smile broadens, “Irksome as in irk? A little word, short and to the point. Irk, produces a sharp sound with little effort if you pucker you lips together, Nora,” then his smile fads.  

. . . . Seriously Just Saying

Sincere Valediction

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Daily Prompt

Amanda holds the pen tightly and pauses, she could go vulgar; an f-you or drop dead? That is not her style. Love or hugs, both would be sarcastic. She scans the words, a Dear John letter of sorts, hastily scribbled telling him farewell, adios, and good-bye.

Her cell rings. The screen says it is John, not the real John, her John. Seconds before the call transfers to voice box, she picks up.

His raspy voice says, “Amanda, I’m so sorry, Jimmy got stopped, a DUI, I went to pick him up. He was so messed up I didn’t have a chance to phone, I know I said this wouldn’t happen again, please say you’ll forgive me.”

Amanda takes time to respond thoughtfully, with patience, “John, that’s what you said last time you were a no-show. What happened then? Was that the time your mom fell in the driveway? I have trouble remembering. Perhaps it was the time you drove that woman who was attempting to transport $500 of groceries in a baby stroller, home.”

“Amanda, you know I love you. I’m just no good about calling. I start getting caught up in their problems and the next thing I know I’m in trouble with you. Please you got to understand.” His voice is soft and genuine, sincere.

She clears her throat and states firmly, “John, let’s be candid.”

“Amanda, why are you calling me John? And candid? You don’t love me. Never could accept me for who I am. You want me to be perfect, show up when I say I will, phone when I can’t. I’m a sloppy careless stupid person who loves you. But that isn’t enough! No never enough. Guess what Amanda, we are so done.” John hits the end call button.

Amanda picks up the pen and writes a valediction, Sincere Regrets, before signing her name on the bottom of the letter.

. . . . Seriously Just Saying

Silent Transformation

Daily Post

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     Margaret parked her white turbo Buick, grabbed her cell pressing the microphone icon and said, “Parking outside Macy’s swimsuit entrance under a skinny oak.” She was on a mission to find a dress for her upcoming 50th High School Reunion.

     Inside, she hurried passed department windows looking at the latest fashions. However, stopped suddenly to gaze at the reflections thinking, don’t I know that person?

     She did. It was her.

     This was not the first time she failed to recognize herself.

     At the age of 68, a stranger in the mirror greeted her mornings. Oh, the face was hers; just not the twenty-five year old one she expected.

     She wondered about this silent transformation taking place. How had she become an old woman?

. . . . Seriously Just Saying

My Daring Darling

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Photo By

Daily Prompt

My Daring Darling

“Let’s do something daring tonight, darling. Something exciting and bold,” said Paige who sat on a stripe settee with her gloves still on. She had returned from a luncheon at the Plaza Hotel. Her white alabaster skin contrasted her ruby red lips and the black Channel suit made her appear young, very young.

“How about we fly to Paris and watch the Eiffel Tower twinkle? Jacqueline phoned and said it has stopped raining, finally.” Paige continued slipping her shoes off. “It will be fun.”

“We could, if that would make you happy. However, flying to Paris is not daring, it’s simply impulsive. Daring requires an element of courage. We don’t need courage to fly to Paris; we simply get on our private plane.” He said approaching her with two glasses of champagne.

“Well darling what would make it daring?”Her eyes flirted in thought.

“I don’t know something bold?” He hinted.

Paige allowed her jacket to fall off her shoulders, stood, took the glass from his hand, and whispered in his ear, “We could jump.”    

. . . . Seriously Just Saying

Yippie Ki Yay Breakthrough

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Photo By Nev P

Daily Prompt Breakthrough

 

Yippie Ki Yay!  A breakthrough, I am writing.

What happened? I had writers block, and touted this previously enjoyable pastime, tedious.

Well, Saturday evening between bites of bratwurst and sauerkraut, a friend commented that she missed my blog posts and enjoyed my writing.

Sunday morning I awoke to write something. I am ready to get back on my horse and go for a wild and crazy ride. You know what I am saying. I love to play with words, cut and paste incomplete sentences to make complete sentences and obsess over where to place the comma or maybe it should be a semicolon.  

My breakthrough . . . . listen to what I tell myself about a favorite activity, writing.

There is nothing more enjoyable than fixing a dangling participial.

. . . . Seriously just saying

 

Miniature

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Daily Prompt Miniature

Lucy says my heart is miniature, her heart is bigger. Everyone’s heart is bigger than mine.

Lucy says my heart is a replica of hers, only mini; a mini heart, tiny and small; a miniature heart, the size of a frog’s.

Lucy knows because she dissected a frog.

Lucy says I am mini inside but not mini outside.

Lucy says if I don’t believe her she can dissect me.

 

Learning to Write

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Daily Prompt Learning

“It’s none of their business that you have to learn to write.

Let them think you were born that way.” 

Ernest Hemingway

I  learned to write secretly. The year was 2009. My husband and I retired to Florida. Characters, words, and sentences began to dance in my head.

One day I sat at my desk, my back to the office door when my husband asked, “What are you doing?”

Sheepishly I replied, “Writing.”

Slowly I gained the confidence to participate in writer’s groups, joined FWA and write my blog, claudiajustsaying, posting regularly, until recently.

I have gotten out of the habit of writing. My mind no longer word streams about ordinary life events. I am pretty much brain-dead. I contribute this to the vertigo or constant dizziness I have experienced for the past year and a half.

This void is an aspect of writing I am learning about.

I miss writing; taxing my mind to find just the right words, agonizing over where to place a comma. Deciding whether to say “place a comma” or “put a comma.

. . . .  Seriously Just saying

Elusive

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Daily Prompt

She was better at lying now. With practice, the lies came easily, were significant only to her, and never maligned others. She did not lie in a Donald Trump way. Elusive may be a better word, leaving out created the sense of deceit. No one else seemed to notice her heart wrapped in Band-Aids.

Mundane

Key Takeaway

Give your newer sisters and brothers-in-WordPress one piece of advice based on your experiences blogging.

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Mundane

A good start?

Capture what is in your heart

But, keep it short
Simple, provoke a thought

Something different, and or new
A different view, revealed by you

A catchy title attracts too

Gives a clue
A hint of the perspective gnawing at you

 . . . . seriously just saying

Brown Hash

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Writing prompt/Write about a family event that goes wrong.
Brown Hash
     The back door slammed and their lively banter entered the room before them. Jennifer kissed her mother’s cheek saying, “Happy Easter, Mom.” Her brother, Josh, smiled, “You made the bunny cake.”
     Laughter filled the air as they lifted items out of brown paper bags while talking. Carol arranged jellybeans on the white coconut icing to form the bunny’s eyes and mouth. His nose and whiskers made from black licorice were in place. Josh ran his finger along the cake edge to clean up dripping icing then licked his finger clean, “Delicious!”
     Josh, better looking than his sister, was the type featured in the New York Times fashion section, blue eyes starring poignantly into the future pondering a secret. His hair was black like his father’s. Today he wore a scruffy two-day-old beard that accentuated his masculinity. He called to his dad who stood by the stove, “Happy Easter. Whatever you’re cooking smells good.”
     His father looked up, “Come, give your old man a hug?” The fifty-five year old held a spatula high above his head as they embraced. Josh looked in the skillet, “Hash?”
     “Yea, hash. Gotta have your grandfather’s favorite. I doctor it up by adding onion, green pepper and more potatoes. They’ll be here around 10 a.m. or there-a-bouts, after mass.”
     Jason question, “They?”
     “Yup, Grandpa and his new squeeze, Pattie,” said John.
     Grandma had been dead five years. Recently Grandpa had been dating and now infatuated with one woman in particular, Pattie. Grandpa, a  ninety year old, was physically fit which Pattie said earned him the nickname Muscles. Grandpa frequently revisited his youth bragging about weight lifting. When he did, Pattie became amorous and misty eyed, after all the man still had a full head of hair. At eighty-five, she dazzled others herself dressed in bright neon colors, decorated with sequins. A schoolgirl’s laugh accessorized her personality.
     Carol rattled mixing bowls and baking utensils in the sink, rinsing them with water before putting the items in the dishwasher. She swished water in two empty cans and tossed them in the recycling bin, but missed. Jason bent to retrieve them. He studied the wet labels, “Did we get a dog?”
     His mom, Carol quizzically said, “A dog? Why would you think we got a dog.”
     “Because these are empty dog food cans you’re recycling.”
     “No put your glasses on, Dad’s cooking hash, the cans . . . . .” Carol did not finish her sentence but glanced at her husband who was cooking as the door bell rang. “Jason, get the door. It’s Grandpa and Pattie, I’m sure.”
     Carol disposed of the cans in the regular trash, pushing the cans to the very bottom of the pail. She joined her husband at the stove and inhaled deeply to confirm the revelation of he really was frying in the pan.
      Jason opened the front door and greeted his grandfather with a hug. Grandpa wore a navy blue pin stripe suite, a crisp white shirt and solid periwinkle tie, but no muscles. A Calla lily was pinned to his lapel. Pattie wore a ridiculously large hat, much too much fragrance and a big smile.
     Formal introductions took place in the kitchen. The egg and hash casserole was in the oven. John removed a mitt potholder to shake Pattie’s hands. Carol embraced the elderly woman pleased that she was hugged backed. Jason whispered to Jennifer, “Not really the Grandma type.” Jennifer responded by poking her bent elbow into his side and said, “Grandpa I made Mimosas.”
     Grandpa took Pattie’s hand and led her towards the granite counter, pointed at a stool and said, “Well what are you waiting we’re thirsty.”
     There were six champagne glasses on a green Plexiglas tray and Jennifer filled the glasses then deposited a stemmed maraschino in each orange juice drink.
     When the kitchen timer rang John said, “Time to eat! You folks get settled in the dining room. I’ll bring in the food.” He opened the oven door and removed the hash casserole, a platter of sliced baked ham, baking dish of corn pudding and cinnamon buns.
     Carol ignored Jason’s skeptical eyes saying, “I’ll get the coffee.”
     “None for me, Pattie and I will have another mimosa, won’t we.” Pattie nodded her head in agreement.
      Seated at the table everyone joined hands as they gave thanks.
      The conversation was lively except for their observation that Carol was not eating much. Her response, “I’m vegan. Well not completely but pretty much a vegetarian, don’t eat meat,” as she pushed some corn pudding around her plate.
     Grandpa keep chewing and with food in his mouth said, “You don’t know what you’re missing everything is delicious, especially the hash.”
     After a period of silence, Jason wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and questioned his mom, “So did we get a dog?”