Today, I fell upon a very interesting blog, when I decided to look on the blog of the author of the book I mainly use when I write.
Reading various articles, I then found this one: http://www.bryndonovan.com/2016/06/20/50-writing-prompts-inspired-by-summer/, and decided to share it to everyone, who may want to have fun while writing.
I was mainly trying to fight my procrastination, and it worked. I ended up writing 700 words at once!
It’s been a while that I decided to improve my writing by doing exercises, may it be by trying to improve my dialogues, or the way I write characters, or descriptions, and I thought you may also want to share your result and progress when you make such exercises.
As there are awesome people here, and awesome writers, it could also be a place where we can all share tips and comments about improving our own work, or “style”. (Or even decide to write a short scene together, for fun! )
So, I chose this one:
Two characters are picking berries. What’s their relationship to each other? Are they having fun, or no?
[details=Here is what I wrote] While Maya was distracted, I decided to step forward, trying my best to stay unnoticed. It was one of those times when I hated my shyness.
The clearing was empty, apart from the bugs populating the tall grass, or the birds chirping in the trees. The bright August sun was imposing an unbearable atmosphere, as the rare breeze of wind wasn’t enough to make me feel comfortable outside. Not a single cloud concealed the blue sky, and I was sweating through my light T-Shirt.
But my parents decided it would be a great idea to go on vacation in a campsite, in the middle of nowhere, and told me to spend more time outside. Mostly because the heat was worse in the caravan we shared.
We soon met Mr and Mrs. Dolphin, an elderly couple spending their annual vacation with their grand daughter, Maya. The fourteen year old girl remained at their side, glaring daggers at me the whole time.
I tried to utter a word, but soon closed my mouth when I noticed the look her sunny blue eyes were shooting me. I avoided her gaze immediately, and I was sure my cheeks reddened.
I remember thinking she was short for her age, but then, I was not really tall myself. Her pale skin indicated she was rarely going outside, or maybe she simply didn’t live in a very sunny place? All my questions and remarks stayed in my head, as they surely would have been badly received. We soon parted, my parents inviting the couple to share a few drinks someday in the week.
I exhaled, relieved to not being subjected at the girl’s hostility anymore, and didn’t thought about it. Until today.
Her red and white dress was arriving to her knees, and as she was turning her back to me, I could silently admire the way her long wavy golden hair cascaded along her back. The skin of her arms was slightly tanned, and she wore a bracelet on her right wrist, made of several colored plastic threads.
A simple basket laid at her feet, resting against a bush, from which Maya was picking up red berries. As she pivoted to put another fistful of berries, her gaze caught me staring, a few feet away from her.
We both froze.
An alarm rang in my mind, and I was a second away from running, like a deer caught in a car’s lights.
My mouth turned dry as I was waiting for her to make the first move.
“Oh, it’s you.”, she stated, her thin lips curling up in distaste, as if I was a disgusting bug on her shoe.
I stayed silent, trying to coming up with something to say. I wanted to turn back, to stop intruding, as I certainly wasn’t welcome. But my feet wouldn’t carry me away.
“My name’s Adam.”
She turned away, apparently deciding to ignore me. I absently ran my tongue on my dried lips, and I couldn’t help but feeling like an idiot, my hands in my pocket and standing still.
“What are you doing here?”, she suddenly asked, her back to me.
“I was…walking. I saw the path, and decided to follow it.” I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “And…you?”
She gave me another dirty look, before waving her hand at the basket. Oh, right. Picking up berries. I now felt like a complete fool.
She faced me, and I examined her round face. My gaze fell on the eyelash that was adorning her left cheek, and her freckles that softened her features.
“You’re going to stand there all day?”, she snarled, crossing her arms and interrupting my observations.
“I can leave, if you’d rather.”
She huffed, before picking up her basket, and taking a step toward me. She seemed to ponder something, before she squared her shoulders, and clenched her jaw.
“I don’t care, but if you stay, make yourself useful.”
She handed me the basket, before swiftly turning around a fraction too late, as I noticed her cheeks were burning.
I couldn’t prevent the silly grin to spread on my face as I stared at her, my heart beating madly in my rib cage. [/details]
And you, how do you practice your writing? Would you like share what you write?