Creative Writing Course #1
I recently completed an online creative writing course. I have been stuck on a story for the last few months, and I kept getting stuck at the same point all of the time. I decided to seek some guidance in the form of a couple of creative writing courses (I plan on taking another one in the near future).
As part of each week’s work, we were given various writing assignments focusing on particular areas. While I cannot divulge the exact topics of the course and its lessons, what I wrote should be fine for publication on here.
None of our writing assignments needed to be “turned in”, but all involved with the course were highly encouraged to share their works with everyone via a discussion board. I shared all of my work with the exception of one assignment, which I did not complete. I voiced my reasoning and pointed everyone to the story I wrote about Malaika last year.
I hope everyone enjoys what I have written. I learned a bit from the course and I think some of the lessons will help me get going on my story once again.
Here are links to each assignment:
Prompt
Mary was fed up with Bob and his perceived infidelity. She was determined to finally confront him and call him out.
“Where do you keep going at all hours of the night,” Mary screams.
“Well, there’s a good expl--,” Bob calmly begins.
“What possible explanation could you have, huh?”, she belts, cutting off Bob mid-sentence.
“If you’d just let me get a word in--,” he attempts.
“Well, what are you waiting for…I’m listening,” Mary exclaims, her voice growing louder with each exchange.
This “conversation” goes back and forth like this for 15 solid minutes, with Mary continually cutting off Bob, without him once getting the opportunity to finish a full sentence. Finally, out of nowhere, Bob raises his right hand and hauls off and slaps Mary square across her left cheek.
Mary is stunned. It takes her a moment to gather herself. Once she realizes what Bob had done, Mary decides to respond with her own counter-offensive slap. She rotates her wedding ring 180 degrees on her finger, recoils her left arm and swings with all of her might. Right as her hand is about to strike Bob, Mary wakes up. She sits up in bed, her breathing heavy, like she’d been running a marathon. Small droplets of sweat begin to fall from her brow. She looks over to her left and sees Bob fast asleep, snoring like usual. It was all just a bad dream.
This assignment was based off of a number of prompts from which we had to choose. After I shared this story with a friend, I grew to dislike what I had written. I don’t think I want to venture down this particular road any further.
Color
You know who I am. I need no introduction. Do not let the naysayers deceive you; fruit was named after me, not vice versa. I’ll transform the heavens to forewarn or elate wary seamen. I’ll beautify a pathetic bowl of kale greens. My presence is beloved across the nation, from Baltimore to San Francisco. Heed my glimmering lights, for when I grow angry I mean no harm. I merely wish to offer protection. While I’ll do my best to warn those in view, I am not entirely innocent. In the possession of troubled souls, I may be set free to scar the land. Whether by zephyr or gale, I’ll distribute my likeness, in all of its array of shades, from here to the horizon. I grow out of control, until I am inevitably smothered by the friendly faces of blue, white, and green. Every coin has two sides, and the same goes for all of us on the visual light spectrum.
I purposely did not name the color as I wanted the reader to figure it out (although it is a bit obvious). According to my instructor, this exercise can be difficult for many of her students, but I was given high praise for what I’d written.
Take Me Out to the Ballgame...Maybe
It’s the middle of February in Florida. The sun is shining bright, and the temperatures are already in the 70s to 80s. The life-draining humidity has still not reared its ugly head. The seabreezes, from both the Gulf of Mexico and Atlantic ocean provide just enough relief from the building heat to make outdoor activities flourish.
Henry, a young boy all of eight years old, is giddy with excitement. He has been a baseball fan for as long as he can remember. While he enjoys watching the game any chance he gets, Henry is still saddened that he cannot yet continue to play the game that he loves.
After a dramatic bout fighting cancer, the chemotherapy and other treatments have left his body feeble and weak. Even more than a year since he was given a clean bill of health, Henry’s energy levels simply will not allow him to enjoy baseball out on the field with his friends. Coupled with his compromised immune system and the ongoing pandemic, Henry must still be very vigilant in his fight against infection.
Life is beginning to look up, however. Henry and his entire family have been vaccinated, and his doctors are confident that he will be able to go out and enjoy the game he loves, if only as a spectator, as soon as possible. Henry is elated and can barely contain his enthusiasm at such news.
On the drive home from his doctor’s office, he looks out the rear window of the family minivan and begins to daydream. He sees the majesty of the bright blue skies, nary a cloud in sight. Henry imagines they are on their way to nearby Sarasota, Florida, to see his favorite team, the Baltimore Orioles.
He fantasizes the smell of the freshly cut grass. The tantalizing aroma of a juicy hot dog, slathered with ketchup, mustard, and relish. All of the wonderful sounds of the ballpark. The crack of the ash and maple bats during batting practice. He’s gathered by the fence in the left field pavilion of Ed Smith Stadium, pounding his glove, hoping to shag a would-be home run ball, all while sitting on dad’s shoulders.
The game is only minutes from starting, and Henry sees his favorite player, Trey Mancini standing by the Orioles dugout. Like Henry, Trey is a cancer survivor as well. Getting to meet Trey would mean the world to him. Henry yells out for Trey, catching the first baseman’s ear. Trey immediately turns around, spotting the young boy’s cancer ribbon on his jersey.
Just as Trey is about to reach his hand out, Henry’s father calls out his name a couple of times and Henry is finally snapped back into reality. They were back at home.
“Dad” Henry squeaked, “how much longer until we get to go see a game this year? Spring training is starting soon, right?”
Dad, with a dejected look on his face, “I don’t know, Henry. A lot of the games have been canceled because the players and their bosses are fighting.”
Dad can see the look of sorrow on his son’s face. Henry sulks off to his room, climbing into his bed. He begins to cry. Dad doesn’t know how to explain the complicated issues that are at play with professional sports. He simply goes into Henry’s room, sits next to him on his bed, and places his hand on Henry’s shoulder.
Write something based on an article in a newspaper or magazine. Naturally, I chose something about baseball, my all-time favorite sport.
Blast From the Past
Recently, I decided to organize some of the mementos I’d accumulated for more than 20 years. Most of these items were in a pair of metal tins normally reserved for delectable chocolates. Being a bit of a pack rat, I liked to keep movie tickets and stubs from various events I’d attended over time.
There were tickets to Orioles baseball games, a production by Stomp, Las Vegas shows, and a mountain of movie ticket stubs. The movie tickets are mostly mundane in nature, as I’d seen A LOT of movies as a young man on my own for the first time after joining the Air Force.
As I began to sort through the mountain of stubs, I came across one of particular note. It was “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” from the now defunct University 6 theater in downtown Anchorage, Alaska. Despite not having seen the light of day in some two decades, the ticket was quite faded but still legible.
It was like I stepped into H. G. Wells’ time machine. I was almost 22 years old at my first duty assignment while in the Air Force. Being May, it was not the stereotypical harsh wintry weather associated with this part of the world. The temperature was in the low 60s, certainly not cold enough to bundle up, but a light jacket would help tame any chill from the slight breeze.
While hanging out with my friend Jill, she mentioned wanting to see this retelling of the classic Shakespeare work. Like many of our peers who lived in the dormitories, Jill was sans automobile. Being the good friend, I offered to drive and accompany her to the movie. We could just go Dutch on the tickets and snacks. I absolutely loathed Shakespeare, dating back to my time in high school, but I was willing to bite the bullet for Jill.
Jill and I had known each other for a few months, but we’d grown to be close friends. We’d talked once before about serious dating, but Jill thought it would be best to be only friends, a decision I would grow to appreciate over time. There was a bit of trepidation on my part in accompanying her to the movies. While not the case, I felt it was like going out on a real date, something I’d yet to do in my life to that point.
The movie itself was nothing to write home about. It was beyond boring and I nearly fell asleep multiple times. Jill knew I was not having a great time and felt the need to apologize once the film was finished. I said I didn’t mind as I got to spend time with a friend, and that’s what mattered most to me.
There were so many movie tickets, and so many more trips through the time machine to be had. This one was a lot to take it for an event that happened so long ago. I couldn’t wait to find another gem in the stack some time down the road.
I rather enjoyed this assignment, although it took me a little longer to write than all of the others. It was enjoyable to reminisce about a time hanging out with one of my oldest friends, a friend I am very much still in contact with to this day. I love you, Jill.
The Uncompleted Assignment
For our final writing assignment, we were to write a short essay on a person from our lives that had a significant impact on us, whether it be good or bad. As an alternative, we could write a legacy letter/ethical will for that same person.
My immediate thoughts for someone who had a great impact on me went straight to my late friend Malaika. After having already written a rather lengthy story about her last year, I could simply use an edited version for submission. In addition, during my deep depression after writing the first draft of Malaika’s story, I also wrote a very expressive letter to her. Contained within that letter were many deeply private thoughts, the likes of which I will not discuss here.
The more I began to think about this assignment, the more I was growing to not like it very much. After everything I had gone through in reliving so much from over 20 years ago, I simply did not want to go through that again, especially only a year removed from it.
I decided to post on the class discussion board my reasons for not wanting to participate this time around. Yes, I could have very well chosen another person to write about, but no one had a greater impact on my life than Malaika. As a bit of a compromise, I opted to leave a link to the story I wrote about her for anyone to read.
A day or so later, I checked the discussion board for this assignment and saw that the instructor replied. In her reply I was stunned to read the following sentence, “The writing is that of a professional”. I must have read her response a few times before it actually hit me. I actually was starting to well up a little bit because of that high praise.
I’m not going to lie, but I am extremely proud of the end result of the story I wrote about Malaika, even prior to taking this course. I think it is one of the best pieces of writing I’ve done to date, including the assignments from this particular course. I poured a lot of myself into that story, revealing a great deal about my younger self that is both embarrassing and despicable. For me to be complimented in such a way, by a professional writer, just sent me to the moon and beyond.
That short sentence validated my feelings on wanting to write the story I’ve been stuck on for so long now. I’m looking forward, even more now, to enrolling in this same instructor’s other course which will hopefully fuel my passion even further.
