Several weeks ago out of desperation and a burning desire to meet new and creative individuals, I did something rash. I joined a writer's group. In D.C. It has been one of the smartest things I've done since having children. I now have a set time once a week for myself to do something I care passionately about, and I get to be with an amazingly talented and creative group of people all at the same time, BONUS!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Every week we have a writing exercise in which we are given certain criteria that we are to then write about for a set amount of time, usually 10 or 15 minutes. It's fun and challenging to put my writing muscles to task in a new way each week, and I am amazed at what the other writers come up with every week.
I'm going to share with you one of the stories I wrote a couple of weeks ago for one of the exercises. Here is the criteria we were given to meet in 15 minutes: You must begin with Jack and Jill going up a hill, and you must end with Jill leaving Jack while crying tears of laughter.
Here is what I wrote:
Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. the hill was steep but not so much so that Jill had to lift her skirts to make her way up. "I'd like to meet the sadistic bastard whose idea it was to put a well at the top of a hill," Jill thought as she carefully stepped over a cluster of rocks embedded into the side of the hill.
Jack was carrying the pail, he was good about that, always lending a hand when it came time to do any heavy lifting. All he asked was that Jill bend over the well to fetch the water. Usually her bosom was heaving slightly from the exertion of trekking up the slope and she knew what he was playing at as she leaned in over the well to find the rope.
Even if she was five years his junior, Jill found Jack to be teetering on the low end of the maturity scale. Something of a child in grown men's clothes he was, but nevertheless she liked that he listened when she wanted to talk about the different types of clouds, even if he didn't have much to say on the matter.
As she drew up the rope from inside the well, Jack extended the pail, waiting for her to fill it with the cool, clear water. Resting one hand on the rocky ledge of the well, Jill grabbed the bucket that was attached to the rope with the other hand and began to pour it's contents into the pail Jack was holding.
Suddenly, Jill heard what sounded like a wailing banshee or a dying chicken, she wasn't sure which, and she was nearly knocked down as Jack flailed in epileptic terror.
"A snake! there was a snake in that bucket!" He screamed. And stepping backward hastily, he caught the edge of his heel on one of the rocks and fell backward, ripping the seat of his pants clean open and revealing to Jill his bare derriere.
Now who's turn is it to ogle, Jill thought and began to laugh, a chuckle at first, and that chuckle grew until it was a full blown belly laugh and tears were streaming down her face.
* As a side note, do you have ANY idea how many times I had to endure this nursery rhyme as a youth?
Posted by Jillian at 3:54 PM