#2 Long Sentences

During my junior year in high school, I felt ambitious and decided to try out track for the first time in my life. I had already been a soccer player for many years and from that experience knew I could run fast, even if I could not run very far. I loved the idea of hurtles and since I knew how to jump from Irish dance, I figured, how hard could it be?

The practices are now all a blur, but I remember racing around the halls of my high school, practicing the starting position, and then of course hopping over the hurtles time and time again. I was soon told I jumped too high and should try to stay closer to the hurtle, but it was hard to break my lessons in Irish dance that had taught me to jump high and make it pretty. Starting was a challenge too because I was never fast enough out of the gate. It felt so awkward with my butt up in the air and my feet spread apart. I would wait for the whistle anxiously as the pellets of turf dug into my palms. When I finally heard the blow, I would push up with all of my strength, but not forward enough to help my time.

Finally, I got my first chance in a track meet to compete. My hands were sweaty and I had to keep wiping them on my thin gold shorts. I took my place and crouched into the awkward stance. My competitors warmed up and got into position beside me, making me feel slightly trapped in the second row. I took a deep breath as my heart pounded and my muscles tensed. Finally, the gun shot off and we sprang from our posts. I dashed forward as well as I could, staring down the first hurtle. My right leg flew up to try and clear the metal bar, but something went wrong. Before I knew what tangled where, I slammed against the rough track. The shock took a few seconds to wear off, but I wasn't done yet. I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up (as good soccer players know how to do) while rushing towards the next hurtle. My face was warm with exertion and embarrassment, but I grudgingly jumped over each hurtle until I finally ran to the end of the hundred meters,

Needless to say I finished last, but at least I finished, and that's all that matters to me.

****

There's a little nonfiction for you, since I did struggle a bit for a topic. I think that might end up being one of the hardest part of this month. As I mentioned yesterday, I'm quite a fan of long sentences, but actually being aware of sentence length can make me self-conscious. I actually kept telling myself "No no no, that sentence would be too short. Make it longer!" The fact that I wrote about a fast race with long sentences is a little silly. It feels like how I would relate this story to a friend in my fast-talking-almost-incomprehensible manner. Ah well, it's a somewhat cherished memory and I always liked that about nonfiction.

Until tomorrow, my friends!

#1 Short Sentences

Her hands rub against her face. The soap bursts into bubbles. Water splashes against the sink. She turns off the facet. The towel is soft and warm against her face. She looks into the mirror. Her skin now dry and fresh.

But wait, not all is clean. One stray eyelash sits on her cheek. The black line curls like a smile. She brushes it onto her forefinger. She closes her eyes...

Her mind wanders. She thinks of the beach. The waves crash and then slide away. Birds call from far away. The wind whips around her. The taste of salt fills her mouth. She sways on a rope hammock. Her favorite book lies open on her lap. The sun warms her face and legs. A smile slowly grows.

She takes a deep breath, and blows.

She checks her finger once more. The lash is gone. She sighs heavily and continues with her day.

****

I'm really not a huge fan of short sentences, personally. I like to use them when I'm trying to speed up the story to create suspense. I also find it's fun for emphasis. Other than that though, I don't usually lean towards the short sentences that much, thus actually making this exercise a bit of a challenge for me. Go figure.

Anyhoo, I decided to do this one first because I think most people like to write in short sentences. It is clean and simple. In a way, it's brushing up on what people already know about writing.

Tomorrow is another day and another exercise!

My List

My actual list. I really do love my handwriting.

Tomorrow begins my daily ritual of writing. I've already created the list of exercises I will do and the order in which I will do them. They are as follows:

1. Write a short excerpt that should be a few paragraphs long using only short sentences.

2. Write a short excerpt of a few paragraphs using longer sentences. Try to really elaborate.

3. Write an excerpt without any passive verbs (as in any form of the verb "to be").

4. Write an excerpt without any adverbs.

5. Practice using adjectives to enhance the nouns within your excerpt.

6. Practice using similes.

7. Use an extended metaphor.

8. Change how you use punctuation. Make up your own rules, in a sense.

9. Write only dialogue.

10. Describe the process of doing something. (example would be making tea).

11. Find a news article and write a short-short based off of it.

12. Find a piece of art you like and write a short-short about it.

13. Create a character.

14. Brainstorm a world.

BONUS!! Write a story where you place your new character into the world you created!

15. Write some six word stories.

16. Write about a place that makes you feel safe.

17. Write about a place that makes you feel unsafe.

18. Describe a scene with all five senses.

19. Describe something as if seeing it for the first time; as if you've never seen it before.

20. Write the same scene three times, changing perspective (as in 1st person, 2nd person, and 3rd).

21. Use typography to add to the excerpt.

22. Write about a mythical creature. Do not just give facts, but bring life to the creature in some way.

23. Focus on a specific time period and write a historical fiction short-short.

24. Write about a place you've never been as if you've lived there. Research about a foreign place.

25. Create a tone by describing a setting.

26. Write the same setting twice, but change the tone.

27. Take a normal situation (like going to work) and make it extraordinary.

28. Write something based on an object, but the object cannot be the main subject/topic.

29. Write a scary short-short.

30. Practice writing body language. Make two people interact without any dialogue.

31. Suggest something in your excerpt, but do not actually spell out what it is. Let the reader figure it out.

There you have it. I had first brainstormed some exercises and then numbered them according to what I determined as first based on the basics of writing, and then up to more complex exercises. The first fifteen are mainly based on basics like grammar and syntax, giving me (and others who might want to do these as well) the chance to play and practice with the English language. The following eight are a little more advanced and involve some more style. The final eight are complex and involve the writer focusing on suggestion and "show" rather than "tell."

I am very excited to start this journey of writing, and I hope others may also join in on this practice. Wish me luck and get ready for a lot of posts!

A Plot for the Next Month

All right folks, I've got a plan.

May is an interesting month to me. First, there's the obvious reason: my birthday is May 9th. I'm the type of person who wishes that her birthday was special or something, but really I like spending the day enjoying my own company. Ah, but I digress. Other people have birthdays in May too, like my sister and my best friend. It's a month for Mother's Day, when I get to thank my wonderful mom for everything she does. Finally, it's when spring finally starts showing up in Cleveland. April kind of teases us with warm days interspersed between freezing, but May at least promises to never snow. I appreciate that.

Anyhoo, since I like May, I've decided this is the month when I will begin my creative writing exercises! Yay! It helps that I'm almost done with my second semester of grad school, so I will have a tad bit more free time. It'll be epic.

Here's the plan: every day in the month of May (ha, that rhymes), I will post an exercise to help with writing. Some days, it may just be me brushing up on grammar. Other days, it may be practicing detail or character development. Some of them will be ones I've done for workshops and the like, others I will make up... probably on the spot.

You're probably now asking yourself: why in the world should you do this? Well, for starters, I would love to write one of those self-help books for writing skills. Haven't thought of a title or anything, but I like the idea of forcing the readers to write, since that is the best way to learn. It's also great practice for me, and it has been awhile since I did exercises.

PREVIEW!! This means in June, I may begin my series of stories. This means every week, I will add another chapter to my story. I'm bouncing around two ideas at the moment, so by June I'll hopefully have it figured out. Until then, bear with my incessant posts...

The Underground

It has been two years since I studied abroad in London. That seems like forever and a half ago and it's weird to think that it even happened at all. One of the objects I have in my possession to help remind me that yes, I did indeed live across the pond, is a journal I used for class. The module was a creative writing course that used London itself as the main focus. I loved the class and loved the opportunity to write about such an amazing place. What follows is a small excerpt from that journal that I like so much I thought I'd share...

Taken by Mary Crotty

The Underground
(Originally written on 28. January 2011)

Within the grungy bowels of London, monsters rumbled and groan. Nothing can stop them as they crash through their long tunnels of concrete. Beware their many mouths as they slide open wide and engulf any waiting mesmerized passenger too close to the yellow line.

True heroes may stand on the gray concrete platforms beside the trenches of the beasts. The thick air wraps around them, smelling of leather and a slight hint of human sweat. Only those brave enough may step up to the painted line marked "Mind the Gap." Passed that, the platform falls away to deceitful metal tracks; the footprints of the behemoths.

All goes quiet and the wind gushes from the dark unknown, fluttering loose hair and newspapers about the concrete catacomb. A quiet hiss and squeak of metal-on-metal comes from the darkness. Two orbs of light, like glowing yellow eyes, appear first. Then the head of the beast made of a square metal frame and sheets of glass as it slides closer. Ever closer to the platform.

Quench the urge to pet the monster as it swoops by.  Everything begins as a blur as one can only see the white body and the red doors mixing together, creating the illusion of pink. The train slows, making the windows and doors become separate. Even the dirt can now be seen marking the worn-out beast as a veteran of the deep.

Finally, the train comes to a stop. With a hiss, the doors open, beckoning those stationed on the platform to step inside. Are you a hero here to force the modern Grendel to slumber? Or will you only be another snack for the eternally starving Tube?

****

Taken by Mary Crotty

It's short, and I think I like it mainly because it's fun to fantasize about everyday things. I guess this just gives you an idea where my mind goes when I had to wait for my train home. Truly, it was nothing short of an adventure.

The Adventures of Code

Long ago, back when I wrote random stories on a site called Quizilla (I'd leave you a link, but it's nothing like what it used to be) because I was bored in high school and really enjoyed writing. The nice thing about it was although it was set up as a site for quizzes, people wrote stories as well. Some that were quite interesting, if I remember correctly. Granted, a lot of them had some major spelling mistakes,   but fear not! I was one of the ones who spell-checked before publishing... usually. (Note: I don't plan on mentioning the stories I wrote because I was in high school and they pretty much sucked. Just... take my word for it).

A banner one of my followers made me for one of my stories.
Nothing special, but I was really happy for the support!

Anyway, I learned some good habits from this. First, I learned how to write for an audience. I knew I had to write stories that would intrigue the people who were already on the site, and from reading around, most of this meant chick flicks or vampires. I delved into both because coincidentally, I was going through my vampire phase. Two, I learned how to write as a habit because I usually would post a new section  every Saturday morning. I would sit at our family computer (ah, the time before my own laptop... good times) and crank out a chapter for a few hours. I wrote more in the summer, obviously, because I was free. After awhile, I became a beast at leaving cliff-hangers, but I never wanted to leave them for too long. I did end up with a few fans, and I didn't want to disappoint. Third and finally, I learned a bit about writing HTML.

Even then, I knew this was not much of an accomplishment because I would really just Google whatever I wanted to know. At the same time, though, I learned what made up my page and would change the font, color, background, and even some mood music to set the tone. I will admit I sometimes went a little overboard, but I would pull back if need be. I even added a few pictures and videos for good measure, all using the HTML code.

Fast forward back to present day, when I am now trying to learn more advanced code. One of my dear friends introduced me to Codecademy, which is a site that teaches you code in baby steps. I've fallen in love with it and do every lesson with vigor. I just finished the courses on HTML and CSS, which was half review because of what I've done before. I did enjoy CSS and am excited to continue learning random things!

Why bother, you ask? Well, since I learned HTML I have enjoyed playing around with websites and such. I also think that as the world becomes more digital, knowing more about computers is helpful. My laptop, Zachary, is also on Linux because of a few mishaps on Windows 7, so understanding a bit more code might also take away some of the fear of trying to fix my own problems. Finally, if I'm going to be a librarian of the future, I might as well keep up with the technology that will hopefully continue to integrate into my workplace. Really, that last one I just threw out there for good measure.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

St. Patrick's Day always has a special place in my heart. Most of my ancestors were Irish, but came over at different times. Some came over before the United States were formed (according to my mother) while others came over during the potato famine. Some of my ancestors worked on the railroads here in lovely Cleveland, Ohio, and even my dad worked in the steel mills. When people meet me, they sometimes remark how Irish I seem, whether it's by my name (Mary Katherine) or appearance (gotta love my pale freckled skin). On top of all this, I also did Irish dancing for ten years, and how I began is the story I will tell today.

Yes, I will confess I became a dancer because of Riverdance. I saw it on television and I remember being floored by the mix of strength and beauty the dancers had. Their stomping feet would mesmerize me and I'd sit there fascinated, slowing inching closer to the screen without even meaning to. If it ever came on, I wanted to watch because I would then try to mimic their steps. As I recall, I thought I did pretty well, but I probably looked pretty silly trying to hold my hands to my sides as I stomped and shuffled around. I imagine I was also very wobbly as I tried to manage my steps.

Unfortunately, my parents did not want to invest unless I was absolutely certain I wanted to dance. This is perfectly reasonable because after buying the two pairs of shoes, the socks, the lessons, the heavy expensive dress, the wig, the competition fees, the hotel rooms, and the gas to travel to the competitions, your wallet feels pretty exhausted. I didn't even mention any souvenirs or extra T-shirts and sweatshirts to advertise your school! Oh, silly me. Thus, it took a year of my trying to persuade them that I wanted to dance before they would let me, and one vacation had to occur first as well.

It was the summer of 1998 (I think, my memory is foggy, but stay with me). I was eight years old and ready to start third grade that fall. My family decided to go on a vacation down to the Isle of Palms, South Carolina because my aunt and uncle owned a beach house there. It was a nice house with about a ten minute walk to the beach, but not important for the story. The point is, we were there.

Anyway, one night my family stopped at an Irish pub-like restaurant for dinner. My mother can remember the name, but I was eight so it didn't matter to me. I remember dark wood and cramped spaces. There was a guitarist in the corner singing random songs such as "Cheeseburger in Paradise" and my mother immediately sang along. I think that was the first time I remember listening to Jimmy Buffet, but definitely not the last.

Later on, after we finished, my aunt and uncle's foster daughter at the time asked me to dance with her to the music. She was nine, I believe, so around my age and I liked her. It took a little bit of persuasion to get me away from my parents, but eventually I stood up and decided not to just dance. I wanted to Irish dance. My memory made me think that an Irish tune was playing, but I honestly cannot remember the music. I do remember people clapping along as I whipped my feet around, taking all the attention away from my friend. My arms tried to stay at my sides as I bumped and shuffled, feeling accomplished until I finally collapsed back into my seat. Applause filled the restaurant as my mom handed me my spring jacket and we headed for the door.

As I was just about to exit onto the street, I heard the guitarist say, "You know, if she had kept her arms a little tighter, I would have thought she was Riverdancing."

Before I knew it, I was in my classes learning about all the different steps and keeping my hands at my sides. Part of me has always wanted to go back to that restaurant (that's still there) and dance again, but I know no one would remember. Not to mention, it's been around five years since I had my last Irish dancing class, so I'm a little rusty. I'll still dance for you on St. Patrick's Day, though. All you have to do is ask.

Dance as if no one is watching

Sing as if no one is listening

And live every day as if it was your last.

An Irish Blessing