Wednesday Writing Bits

The following is a writing exercise from chapter one of Gail Carson Levine’s book, Writing Magic. The following is a taste of the raw writing I scrawled June '09.  The bold green is the initial prompt and the plain green is my work. 


The first time I saw Stephen. He painted a hex sign on my right arm and I couldn’t move my fingers for 3 hours…
I had never seen Stephen face-to face until that moment when he grabbed my arm, almost spilling my entire lunch tray filled with greasy pizza, a carton of milk and a chocolate chip cookie. My mind snapped from the usual lunch time contemplations of a 5th grader with the sudden and unexpected touch on Stephan’s papery, dry hand. I think that is what shocked me the most, more than the feeling of my right arm being snatched away from my own use, more than seeing the strange new kid standing in front of me. There was no feeling, no life in the fingers that pressed into my hand. The sticky sweat of a nervous kid, the grease from the pizza, the cool moisture left over from the milk carton were nowhere to be found in Stephen’s grasp. It was as flakey and translucent as the crumpled tissue wrapper that my chocolate chip cookie rested on. I almost couldn’t believe it was a human I was in contact with yet his movements were anything but lifeless. They made a continuous motion, moving in circles, weaving a pattern on my hand—a hex.

And that hex is what froze up my arm.

Copyright of Cathryn 2009

Wednesday Writing Bits

Looking out of the library window, suspended as it were, from the third story by the sheer engineering of steel, cement, and glass, I look out across my college campus. The grey parking lot, with the little multicolored flecks of reflective metal, the cement path that wiggles it’s way between buildings and trees leading to the 6 story parking structure, the freeway overpass severing the dry hillsides and circumferencing the campus—all this I see. When my eyes simply stare out at this scene, gazing at “nothing” and losing all distinct visual focus, the world seems to be crawling. To be alive. The bobbing heads and steady tread of the college students, the movement and shine of the cars in the lot below, and the flow of traffic in the distance all combine to give the sense that the world is respiring. It inhales, sighs, and twitches. It shrinks and expands. It sweats and craves moisture. It was as if I were inside the body watching it maintain it equilibrium and homeostasis.

Yet as simultaneous and unified as these events appear to be, each entity is separate in its immediate purpose.

I blink and the individual cars, people, hills, and freeway overpasses each come into focus…I am not inside the human body but suspended as it were from the third story by the sheer engineering of steel, cement, and glass. I am looking out across my college campus.

copywrite 2009

All of these funny thoughts, and I haven't even taken physiology yet!

Writing Bits

I received some kind compliments regarding my post, “Days Like Threads,” and lest anyone think my writing scraps are 100% deep and brilliant let me show you a silly piece of writing that sailed through my head this morning as I drove to school. The inspiration for this work came from last night when my head was dizzy whenever it was on a vertical plane, my forehead sweaty, and my nose was runny. Did I mention that the final draft of my reaction paper was due in several hours? My dear sister told me to “go lay on the couch” and let her type the rest of my paper up! What a chum. What a dear (and no, she is not up for trading. Yeah, yeah, I am sure your sister is nice too, but I want to keep this one!)

To be sung to Jingle Bells (make sure you sing it with an upbeat before the first line. It begins at the "Dashing through the snow" part).

Anne….

On the 3rd week of Fall school.
I had a paper due.
It needed lots of work
So I gave it then to you.

With patience plentiful
You read, re-read, revised.
You even typed it up for me so I could spare my eyes!!
Ohh…Chorus anyone….?



Reason # 156 why NOT to live in dorm…..because a room-mate would NEVER offer to type your research paper for you the night it was due.

Thank you again Anne a MILLION times over!!