I don’t usually get time to have a go at Morgen’s story writing exercises but found myself taking a punt on my dinner hour today.
Time yourself for 15 minutes for each one, then either have a break or move on to the next one. When you’ve finished, do pop over to this blog’s Facebook Group and let everyone know how you got on.
- Keywords: polite, wishing, fortitude, coast, scarf
- Random: loathe the very essence
- Picture: what does this inspire?
- Monday Monologue: your character is aggrieved
These are by no means polished but I think there is something quite charming about them being a little rough around the edges. Do take a look and feedback is very welcomed as normal.
Keywords: polite, wishing, fortitude, coast, scarf
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ The elderly gentleman asked.
I smiled politely and shook my head. I didn’t want to appear rude but my own fortitude not allowing comfort from others; I brushed off his question.
I stood silently wishing that today hadn’t arrived so soon. Staring from the coast I looked towards the heavenly sky and shrugged off my rouged scalf.
Gently removing the lid, I felt an encouraging hand on my shoulder. A memory of your smile came as your ashes caught and flew on the breeze, fluttering out to sea.
Random: loathe the very essence
I loathed the very essence of the man. Smug, self-centred, nauseatingly self-assured.
He was a cocky son of a bitch; didn’t know how he had the audacity to show up in this town after all these years but here he was.
He hadn’t changed much; still had them baby blues that could pierce a heart of glass.
There was a very thin line between love and hate; I’m beginning to realise that now.
The burden evaporated as each mile passed between us; like a brick wall being dismantled, so did my hurt.
He’d built up my dreams only to knock them down time after time with sorrys, empty promises and bought my silence with caviar, champagne and canapes.
At each intersection I felt something I hadn’t felt for a while, a growing sensation. Hope.
Monday Monologue: you character is aggrieved
“Dirty laundry; it never bloody ends, does it?
All I asked was that he put his washing in the laundry basket!
But no. Here I am: muggings!
Cleaning up after him! Again.
Enough. I don’t think I can take this much longer.
Raised his kids, kept a nice home, dinner on the table promptly each evening for 6pm.
I wonder how much I’ll get in the divorce?
He can’t be doing too badly for himself.
I’ll put this load on and then I’ll call Frank.
He better be as good a solicitor as my husband says.”
I’ve never written a monologue before (not even sure if I’ve set it out correctly). Anyway, best get back to work now. Thanks for peeking!