BB’s (possibly stolen) PROMPT for 04/26/15

When I was 10 years old, we moved away from Hawaii and returned to Utah. As we drove over the Pali on Oahu (you couldn’t drive THROUGH the Pali in those days ‑‑‑ the tunnel came much later), my mother said, “Brenda, look back, down the mountain. You may never see this again. You should remember it.”

“But why?” I said. “It’s just all green.”

Then Utah. Deserts. REALLY big mountains. Autumn leaves. Snow. That was some change! I guess I’ve never been big on “looking” at the real world. Would I rather read about it in a well‑written book?

So the Prompt for today is to take something of nature, be it what you can see right now out your window, or a scene remembered ‑‑‑ maybe as far back as childhood. How can you write that (for those of us who are less observant individuals) and bring it alive for a reader. What difference can it make to your manuscript, your story, your MC, the “bad guy”?

YES! I DID IT! I remembered a time, early morning, when the sky outside my bedroom window made the cream‑colored shutters glow in gold. I jumped out of bed, pulled on some clothes and went running outside to see what was going on.

A small excerpt of what I’ve written about that morning:

For days, the fog had made this December more dreary than ever — yet here it was, almost Christmas. Something new must be happening for this much gold to invade. Knowing “nothing gold can stay,” I rushed by the alcove, giving my favorite statue a tiny, finger‑tip kiss as I passed, pulled on my jacket, stuck my feet in the running shoes which lay by the door, raced down the hall and out the front.

The air itself was golden!

Fog and dew had frozen on the trees, which lifted their whitened limbs into the radiant air. From my front step, I could see only as far as the second house west on the circle. But, for a moment, the fog — not the dreary, depressing gray which had haunted us for so long — cocooned itself and everything else in a lustrous, golden mantle. . . .

I ran down as far as the corner, seeing one house, then another, slowly take form ahead of me in the shimmering air. Bushes, trees held out white‑tipped limbs and fronds, yet presented their stolid, black trunks and interiors as a sign of stability in this fantasia world. . . .

Now, tell us what you’ve seen and been able to slip into your writing.

(Feel free to re‑use my prompts, modified to YOUR specifications ‑‑‑ I “stole” them too from Carol Lynch Williams, AnnDeeCanDee, Cheryl, The ABC Writers Guild and others . . .


WRITING PROGRESS REPORT:

April 25 Minimum: 1 hr   2-3 hours’ worth of planning the new writing schedule – WooHoo!

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