||[Dec. 1st, 2006|06:22 pm]
sitaraat a coffee shop this morning and we began our writing adventure. This is something we have been wanting to do for a while, but had difficulty scheduling. Now that we're under way, I'm going to make an extra effort to keep those mornings open.I met up with |
Right about now, you're going huh? Am I missing something? The answer is yes, but it's not your fault, because I haven't mentioned it. The gist of it, in a nutshell, as if it would fit in one, is this - both of us needed some motivation to get writing, so decided to join forces. We are following an outline of a writing workshop she put together many years ago but didn't have the opportunity to lead. She was open to my input, but because she is highly organized and I am next to useless, I'm perfectly pleased to stick with her original plan.
Today was a planning/warm-up day. We discussed what we're going to do and where and when and how we're going to do it, and then did a couple of stream of consciousness round-robin writing exercises.
Interestingly, while we were doing all this, in walked a co-worker, and he has agreed to join us. So now we are three instead of two, and the circle grows. And aside from one awkward moment where she somehow confused soup with miniblinds, which all worked out well in the end, everything went smoothly. Great conversation and coffee was had by all. And scones were had by me.
She gave permission to post the results of one of our exercises, so here it is, complete and unedited, the first one we completed:
Stars hanging from the ceiling of the black piped sky flicker like
the memory of you in a nightclub where music blares and the strobe light flashes in your eyes with the profound significance of a universal
Music pounds like surf against the shore, like blood,
like the foam rising up and around the feet of a Goddess robed in the mantle
of her divinity.
You rise against my heart; I feel you in my throat as a flicker, as a pounding, as a goddess,
as the whirling tendrils of a hurricane on a collision course with the front page of a newspaper.
The clink of glasses and hiss of foam return me to the now of stars hanging from the black piped sky.
And we talk about the center of being in this world of black pipe and glass stars.
The shadows across your face form bars
where you feel like a prisoner of your own life. Where did all the fireflies go? Are they playing hide-and-seek with my
Don't trifle with desire. Be wary what you seek.
For you are most likely to find it and then, not know what to make of it.
I sip the foam and taste eternity.