Monday Morning Warm-up
anonymous
July 4 2016, 20:13:55 UTC
I love this warm up exercise. I can see myself using it with my students. I am sharing my warm-up below! Thanks Jo.
Jennifer D.
I roll over in my bed, after tossing and turning all night, and pull the covers over my head. Flashbacks of that day play over and over in my mind like a GIF. If only I could get a dog. Maybe I could forget it all, just maybe. Putting my head into my pillow, I scream.
I hear a knock on the door.
“Emma, are you okay?”
“Yes Dad,” I reply, dragging myself out of bed.
“Please get dressed so we can go eat breakfast. Quickly.”
“Quickly.” I say to myself. Dad has absolutely no patience. He doesn’t understand anything.
What's the underlying idea?ext_3723380July 4 2016, 21:17:21 UTC
Jo, thank you for this lens. I applied it to writing in response to Elana K. Arnold's exercise (which I posted there). It was about two teenage girls who want to know if there's life after death, but underneath that, it was about death being loss, and underneath that, it was about these friends being afraid to lose each other.
How serendipitous for these two writing exercises to intersect! I can see how this will deepen my character studies in future writing. Thank you!
Monday "not morning" warm up :)ext_3732209July 4 2016, 21:59:17 UTC
So here I am...being brave! I am understanding how difficult it is being being the student :) While I was writing this, I found myself switching points of view, tenses, and such. Putting myself in the mindset of a swimmer was the easy part
( ... )
Making Characters Real
anonymous
July 5 2016, 00:52:37 UTC
Here's my response to your prompt:
I jolted awake and slowly peeled my eyes open. The morning sun fought through the curtains of my bedroom, but I couldn't tell what time it was. I arched my neck and glanced at the clock on the table beside my bed. Eight fifteen. On a Sunday. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Waking up before ten on Sunday was like leaving a movie fifteen minutes before the end-unfinished. As I flopped my head back into the dip in my pillow, I heard the front door slam, followed with what sounded like a pot hitting the stove. I threw back the covers and sat up. I ran my fingers through my hair with a sigh. It was official my Sunday morning sleep-in was going to be unfinished.
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Jennifer D.
I roll over in my bed, after tossing and turning all night, and pull the covers over my head. Flashbacks of that day play over and over in my mind like a GIF. If only I could get a dog. Maybe I could forget it all, just maybe. Putting my head into my pillow, I scream.
I hear a knock on the door.
“Emma, are you okay?”
“Yes Dad,” I reply, dragging myself out of bed.
“Please get dressed so we can go eat breakfast. Quickly.”
“Quickly.” I say to myself. Dad has absolutely no patience. He doesn’t understand anything.
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How serendipitous for these two writing exercises to intersect! I can see how this will deepen my character studies in future writing. Thank you!
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I jolted awake and slowly peeled my eyes open. The morning sun fought through the curtains of my bedroom, but I couldn't tell what time it was. I arched my neck and glanced at the clock on the table beside my bed. Eight fifteen. On a Sunday. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Waking up before ten on Sunday was like leaving a movie fifteen minutes before the end-unfinished. As I flopped my head back into the dip in my pillow, I heard the front door slam, followed with what sounded like a pot hitting the stove. I threw back the covers and sat up. I ran my fingers through my hair with a sigh. It was official my Sunday morning sleep-in was going to be unfinished.
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