Writing exercises
Exercise six. Take two.
“Where did you get the Benz?”
“Why ‘where’?”
“Well … How?”
She took note of his eyes. She knew the look. The strangely bulging eyes of a bullshitter. She smiled. You’ve found your match, baby!
“I think I told you about family we had up in Canada?”
“Bullshit!” She stabbed at him with her butter knife.
Nick recoiled in his seat. “Cathy…” he said, calmly smiling back at her.
“You…” she gasped, seeing her advantage gone.
“You folks good?” demanded the fat waitress across the room.
“Sorry, ma’am,” said Nick.
He could be so damn gracious. She hated him.
“O.K. Look here.” His eyes were normal now. He was in charge. “Now, let’s see. You’re in Florida and my aunt Sally dies. My brother Davy says mum wants him to go up there, represent the family and such, because mother is sick, you know. But Davy’s married. He’s got no time. So, he pays me to fly to Vancouver, attend the funeral, talk nice to everyone.”
“Ah,” she said. It rang all so true. For the first time ever, she was beginning to be interested in what Nick had to say.
“So, I arrive in Vancouver, and I ain’t never been abroad.”
“I know … I know.”
“Yeah. You only want to know about the dough.”
“Tell me, Nickie.”
“I will, sweetie. Just as soon as you explain to me exactly what you did in Florida.”
“I already told you …” She was reeling.
“You didn’t though.”
She stared at him. How I hate his guts! she thought.
“We can call it quits. Right here, right now.”
“No, no,” she said, pleading.
“O.K.”
(…)
Exercise six. Take one.
“What is it, honey?”
He looked away. Looked at their bed. It didn’t look right.
“Hon, you know…” she said.
“Yes, yes,” he stuttered. “Let’s not…”
“Why are you like this?”
He ventured to look her in the eye. “You don’t know?”
“What don’t I know?”
”Nothing.” Overcome with affection, he put his arm around her.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s get you in the shower first.”
“Yeah,” he said.
But wasn’t it strange, he thought in the shower, that she should treat him like a man for once? Why today, after all those months of snubbing him? She had to know ... Or is it something I don't know? he thought (...)
Exercise five. Take two.
George walked back to his car in a mood of absolute bliss. He now had the five things a man must have, and his body’s chemistry rewarded him for it. He had always trusted that the high life wasn’t found in drugs—drugs could only be crutches—but in a career, good friends, good health, sufficient money, and a wife. Marita had made it all complete. What luck I’ve had in this town! It almost scared him. He put the car in drive, settling back in the seat, the sunset in his mirror. Accept this beauty as though you earned it! he told himself, and joined the traffic on Mountainview Boulevard. The new, glass-clad building on the corner of 26th Street reflected the beautiful evening light.
Exercise five. Take one.
The gold-tinted sheets of glass cladding the prominent edifice on Mountainview Boulevard where they accept bodies in the back, to pass out urns and ash, mirrored the setting sun. Past the porter’s lodge and up the steps fell elongated, animated shadows of people lost in mundane pursuits. In nineteen years of passing the building on his way to work, George had never really looked at it–except to notice the beautiful reflections of the evening sun. Like many, he'd mistaken it for some kind of resort. Now, he climbed the broad, low steps to its rotating main door. Inside, a wide hall was bathed in warm light. He stood there, forcing himself to breathe evenly. The nature of reality was suddenly warped, and evading his grasp ...
Exercise four. Take three.
The arteries of a distant civilization divest this country of jagged horizons, of its natural purity. The mountains didn’t change since the Biblical Days. You see herders on horseback drive cattle down dusty trails. Outcasts live in mud huts, stalking desert game and growing corn in the greener canyons. But travel in any direction for too long and you come upon another highway or road, or wind park ...
Exercise four. Take two.
Beyond Interstate 95, the woods gave way to cow pastures, which in turn gave way to suburban streets. Five homes per acre, some of them duplexes. All of them devoid of opulence. Then train tracks, lined by warehouses, junk yards, rail yards, and a good number of never developed–fully treed–lots. Another block of working-class homes, and another belt of woods. Followed by parking lots, strip malls, drive-thru’s, gas stations, repair shops, wholesalers, warehouses, and cheap motels, along U.S. Route 1. Beyond it, woods again, and hidden estates on the banks of the lagoon. Across the water, mangroves, and smaller estates, and hidden camps, accessed by boat. After all of this, finally, came State Road A1A with its towers of condos and hotel rooms.
From her balcony, Cristina looked out over the pool to the ocean where some large bird had alighted on the beach a moment ago ...
Exercise four. Take one.
The highway was a dead and violent stream in a wide expanse of pine and oak. A tributary left it—less dead, less violent. Left the highway at a right angle to run through pastures and clumps of oak trees, toward a jumble of white wood-frame houses at the lakeshore. Pursuing the same paved trajectory to its farthest point, a broad concrete pier led out onto the water. There at the edge of the depths of the lake sat a man, passing out bread crumbs to a family of geese.
Exercise three. Take three.
He got off the bus in Eganville and walked down to the lake. He didn’t feel as bad now but there was no hope in him. To feel OK again the last embers of hope had had to die first. I have no right to think that I might be delivered from the vale of tears that is this world, he thought. I have lost the right to want to be saved. Walking toward the water now, he felt suddenly seasick.
Exercise three. Take two.
The rain had relented a little when he entered the short dirt road that led down to the hidden portion of the lake. He backed into the branches and he shut the engine and the lights. Gusts of wind jerked at the branches. Down at the boat slip, the lake kept making foot-high waves. Between gusts of wind, he thought he heard a car pass on the county road. But who’d stop by the lake in this kinda weather? Time to finish the job! he thought. But he didn’t stir a muscle. There was something immensely pleasurable about this moment.
Exercise three. Take one.
On wet days like this Lake Hemond had always looked like it concealed some horrible crime. Knowing that now it did didn’t increase its dark allure. In fact, knowing what lay in its depths, young Santis looked at it soberly. It was a body of water, he thought. “Body of water” he repeated in his mind. A swamp lake like this wasn’t good for anything, he judged. And he consulted his memory for alligator sightings, but all the lakes he’d known in his short life now resembled horrible dark Lake Hemond.
Exercise two. Take three.
The treed residential lots along Merida Drive had once been deforested and raised with fill dirt to be on one level with the railroad. However, for some reason, they had never been developed, and the pines had returned ... Josh, wearing high-laced hunting boots, ventured to enter the undergrowth. His brother Conner, leaning back against the company truck, counted the tree tops. ‘Thirty-six,’ he yelled. Josh was out of sight, and didn’t answer. Conner locked the truck and walked up 26th Street to the railroad. Slowly, he walked back along the railroad tracks, searching the forest’s edge. Two red flags identified the lot’s frontage, and he expected to find similar demarcations in the back. But he covered twice the distance he felt was right and found nothing
(…)
Exercise two. Take two.
He heard her walk in. Heard her fumble through her wardrobe, humming her morning song. Ever so sweet was her voice! She was gone when he woke. Sun filled her room. Fully awake now, he sat up in her bed. Then, from some distant corner of the house, came a grueling scream, followed by a bright hissing sound. He sat there, puzzled, a full second or two. He would later remember in agony how long it had taken him to decide to jump to his feet
(…)
Exercise two. Take one.
The other house was dark except for the greenish light upstairs that was left burning to deter burglars. She didn’t mind the houses down the street, since, luckily, their occupants didn’t seem to care what anybody did in their spare time. The nice house across the street was critical. Its gravel driveway had that empty look it always had when her neighbors were gone. Reassured that no soul was watching, she slipped outside, leaving the front door open but closing the screen carefully, not to disturb her lover’s sleep.
She found that the night temperature matched perfectly the temperature she had the aircon set to. She made a point of checking the thermometer in her car.
It read 64 degrees. Her intuition had been accurate.
Pleased with herself, she parked behind his car on the street. Then, she put his car in the garage.
It was a boxy old big car with cushy old-fashioned upholstery. It reminded her of her childhood, and she sat for a moment, trying to put a name to that feeling.
As she sat there, she became aware of (…)
Exercise one. Take three.
She was struck by the silence—a silence that permeated the walls and made palpable the vast desert outside. This quality had pushed her to agree to buy the house. How many years had since passed? She began, then stopped, counting. It was a lifetime ago! She opened the blinds in her room to lean by the east-facing window as the sun rose beyond the canyon. The first rays lend a hazy orange tint to the desert floor. It was to be a good day, she decided. After all that had happened she was free again. For a moment she was fooled into believing that life had yet another life in store for her.
Exercise one. Take two.
The garden fence needed attention, as did the garden itself. It was all a big mess, she thought. It hadn’t become easier to tend to her chores. It had become impossible! The touch of wet grass—it was always wet now—appalled her. The rich dark earth, the result of years of gardening, appalled her. With disgust, she straightened her back, closing her eyes. Her hand trowel slipped to the ground. And she stood there waiting—listening—eyes closed tight. Stood and stood and stood. Resting. Nothing touched her now. After a long moment, a breeze combed through the pine tops. Was there hope? Suddenly, she felt exactly as she had often felt in her young life, hiding here. Again, the house, the garden were her father’s house and garden, and she was safe. Lord, let me keep this peaceful feeling when I open my eyes, she prayed. Let me carry this feeling inside the house. Let me feel this way for the rest of my days.
Exercise one. Take one.
The old woman considered the farm house and barn at the end of the dirt road where she had spent two thirds of her life and she knew she wasn’t going to live long if she moved into town like Beth, and she remembered her saying You get so used to taking care of someone. Even someone you hate! And remembering Beth’s declining health she made up her mind to go on living on the farm, even though she had grown to detest every little thing about it. The wood panel walls that would never speak of the violence they’d seen. The paralyzing stillness of the surrounding hills. The tepid cow smell permeating everything. The absence of her only son—
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Exercise ideas borrowed from John Gardner's The Art of Fiction: Notes on Craft for Young Writers.
1) DESCRIBE A LANDSCAPE AS SEEN BY AN OLD WOMAN WHOSE DISGUSTING AND DETESTABLE HUSBAND HAS JUST DIED. DO NOT MENTION THE HUSBAND OR DEATH.
2) WRITE THE PARAGRAPH THAT WOULD APPEAR IN A PIECE OF FICTION JUST BEFORE THE DISCOVERY OF A BODY. YOU MIGHT PERHAPS DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER’S APPROACH TO THE BODY HE WILL FIND, OR THE LOCATION, OR BOTH. THE PURPOSE OF THE EXERCISE IS TO DEVELOP THE TECHNIQUE OF AT ONCE ATTRACTING THE READER TOWARD A PARAGRAPH TO FOLLOW, MAKING HIM WANT TO SKIP AHEAD, AND HOLDING HIM ON THIS PARAGRAPH BY VIRTUE OF ITS INTEREST. WITHOUT THE ABILITY TO WRITE SUCH FOREPLAY PARAGRAPHS, ONE CAN NEVER ACHIEVE REAL SUSPENSE.
3) DESCRIBE A LAKE SEEN BY A YOUNG MAN WHO HAS JUST COMMITTED MURDER. DO NOT MENTION THE MURDER.
4) DESCRIBE A LANDSCAPE AS SEEN BY A BIRD. DO NOT MENTION THE BIRD.
5) DESCRIBE A BUILDING AS SEEN BY A MAN WHOSE SON HAS JUST BEEN KILLED IN A WAR. DO NOT MENTION THE SON, WAR, DEATH, OR THE OLD MAN DOING THE SEEING.
THEN DESCRIBE THE SAME BUILDING, IN THE SAME WEATHER AND AT THE SAME TIME OF DAY, AS SEEN BY A HAPPY LOVER. DO NOT MENTION LOVE OR THE LOVED ONE.
6) WRITE A DIALOGUE IN WHICH EACH OF THE TO CHARACTERS HAS A SECRET. DO NOT REVEAL THE SECRET BUT MAKE THE READER INTUIT IT.
7) DESCRIBE AND EVOKE A SIMPLE ACTION (FOR EXAMPLE, SHARPENING A PENCIL, CARVING A TOMBSTONE, SHOOTING A RAT).
8) WRITE THE OPENING OF A NOVEL (SOME DISRUPTION OF ORDER) USING THE AUTHORIAL-OMNISCIENT VOICE, MAKING THE AUTHORIAL OMNISCIENCE CLEAR BY GOING INTO THE THOUGHTS OF ONE OR MORE CHARACTERS AFTER ESTABLISHING THE VOICE.
9) WRITE A PASSAGE USING ABRUPT AND RADICAL—BUT THOROUGHLY ACCEPTABLE—SHIFTS FROM THE AUTHORIAL-OMNISCIENT POINT OF VIEW TO THE THIRD PERSON SUBJECTIVE.
10) WITHOUT AN INSTANT’S LAPSE OF TASTE, DESCRIBE A PERSON
- GOING TO THE BATHROOM,
- VOMITING,
- MURDERING A CHILD.
11) WRITE, WITHOUT IRONY, A CHARACTER’S MOVING DEFENSE OF HERSELF.
12) TAKE A SIMPLE EVENT: A MAN GETS OFF A BUS, TRIPS, LOOKS AROUND IN EMBARRASSMENT, AND SEES A WOMAN SMILING. DESCRIBE THIS EVENT, USING THE SAME CHARACTERS AND ELEMENTS OF SETTING, IN THREE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT WAYS—CHANGES OF STYLE, TONE, SENTENCE STRUCTURE, VOICE, PSYCHIC DISTANCE—AND MAKE SURE THE STYLES ARE RADICALLY DIFFERENT! OTHERWISE, THE EXERCISE IS WASTED.