Writing Exercise: Switch Out Words

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Use Better Words

WRITING EXERCISE: Write a generic scene – no more than 100 words. Then go through and change or add one or two words (no more than that) per sentence to make it better. Then try again, using the same generic start for a totally different genre or feel.

*****

After walking into the bar, a guy sits on a stool. He signals the bartender for a boilermaker. Beer and whiskey appear, and his money gets whisked away. The bartender returns to the girl he was flirting with. The guy knocks back the shot, then walks over to the couple holding his beer. (words 53)

*****

After sauntering into the bar, a guy hops on a stool. Smiling, he signals the bartender for a boilermaker. Beer and whiskey appear, and his meager cash gets whisked away. The cute bartender returns to the girl she was flirting with. The guy knocks back some courage, then walks over to the couple holding his beer.

*****

After walking into the darken bar, a guy mounts a stool. Furtively he signals the bartender for a boilermaker. Beer and whisky appear, and his money disappears. The bartender returns to the working girl he was flirting with. The guy knocks back the shot, then slips closer to the couple swirling his beer.

(first published 1/31/2015; republished new blog format 3/22/2016)

Flash: It’s Dirty

Goldfish crackers

Image courtesy of the Internet

“When can I put ActionMan down, dad?” The four-year old held the toy over the conveyor belt.

Joe reached across the moving rubber. “Let me just put the bar between mom’s stuff and yours. That let’s the cashier lady know to ring up your ActionMan separate.”

“So I get to pay with it with my money!” His parents had decided he was old enough for his own allowance. Joe and Scott had spent most of the shopping trip picking out the perfect toy to spend his first week’s allowance while Cheryl and April, still relegated to sitting in the cart, did the family groceries. Joe was pretty sure Cheryl had the easier task. Once the bar was down, Scott dropped the toy. He gripped the side of the machine to stand on tippy toe and watch its slow movement down the belt.

After a while he got bored and started looking around at all the impulse items specifically placed at child level in the candy aisle.

“Keep an eye on him,” Cheryl instructed her husband. “He wanders.”

“My son, the explorer.”

“Your son, the destroyer.” She placed the last of the baby food on the belt, after moving the bar and toy back a bit. “Eyes on him.”

Chuckling, Joe watched as his son bent at his knees and carefully studied things on the bottom-most shelf in the squat position small children did so easily. “He isn’t that bad.”

“Karen,” Cheryl addressed the cashier, “what do you think?”

The black lady behind the counter smiled at her realtor while moving the merchandise over the scanner. “We do show a profit on your visits.”

“Well said.” The blond turned back to her husband. “Sweetie, every stocker in the store knows Scott’s name.”

Joe came over to kiss Cheryl on the cheek. “That is because he is an extrovert just like you.”

“Goldfish!” Scott explained.

Both parents turned around to see Scott waving a small carton of Goldfish in the air.

“Do you want that, buddy?” Joe asked, approaching the boy and gently taking the carton out of his hands before he crushed it.

The four-year old nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

“Inside voice.” Cheryl’s automatic response drifted from the front of the line as Scott’s expositions finally crossed the threshold of too loud.

“Yes.” He stage-whispered to his dad.

“Well, let’s look at the price.” Joe knelt down beside the child. “What do the numbers say?”

“One…zero…nine.”

“Okay, do you remember how much money ActionMan is going to cost?”

Scott’s young face scrunched up in thought. “No.”

“It’s okay, I do.” Joe recited the numbers. “That leaves just eighty-nine pennies leftover of your allowance.”

“Which is more than one-nine, right?” Scott looked up eagerly.

“Yes it is more than nineteen, but this is one hundred and nine. That zero is important.” Joe held the carton in front of him, lifting it up and down as though weighing it. “You got a choice buddy. You only have so much money. Do you want ActionMan or the Goldfish?”

“But I’m hungry!”

“And mommy just bought a whole bunch of food. When we get home we will unpack it and then I’m going to start cooking dinner.” Joe stood and picked up the toy from the belt and then knelt again, with the toy in one hand and the food in the other. “Which do you want? We can only get one.”

Scott gazed longingly at one and then the other. Sighing deeply, he pointed at the toy. “I want ActionMan.”

“Good choice buddy.” said Joe, giving a response he decided to give no matter what the choice was. At this point making a choice instead of throwing a tantrum to get both options was a great choice. But overall the engineer in Joe liked the fact his son went for the long choice instead of the immediate result. He passed the carton to his son. “Now put this back since we are not getting it.” He stood up as he watched the tiny learning machine put the food back on the bottom shelf.

Subdued Scott returned to his dad’s side, who gave him the toy. He stood on tiptoe and placed it back on the conveyor and watched until the bar hit the cashier area. His mom pulled out the little coin purse where she was storing his allowance.

“Ready for me to scan this, little man?” Karen asked.

Scott nodded solemnly.

“Listen for the beep.”

Once the scanner made its noise, Scott’s face lit up again. “Was that beep mine?”

“Yes, it was.” Cheryl handed Scott the two bills making up his allowance, while the cashier bagged the toy. “Now you need to pay for it.”

Smiling from ear to ear, he handed over the money.

“Eighty-nine cents is your change.” Karen leaned across the counter, placing the money in the two small outstretched hands.

While trying to get the coins into the money holder, the dime escaped. Scott looked at it a moment.

“Aren’t you going to pick it up?” Joe asked.

“It’s dirty!” Scott declared, before handing the coin purse to his mom and going to get his toy from the bagging area.

Cheryl opened her mouth, then closed it, looking at her husband in consternation.

Joe shrugged. “Which rule do you want?”

Seeing her son engrossed with the toy, Cheryl quickly bent over, picked up the coin, and dropped it into the purse.

“Hygiene wins.” Joe smiled wickedly before adding, “Good choice sweetie.”

“I’ll good choice you.” She whispered back in pretend anger.

“Promise?”

“Tonight, after dinner and laundry … if April doesn’t wake up.”

(words 934 – first published 3/20/2016)

Flash: Funner Part 1

Pile Of Books Stock Photo

Photo by Surachai of FreeDigitalPhoto.net

Rating: Mature

Cheryl wrapped her legs around Joe’s midriff again, delighting in the unhurried strokes that were slowly driving her out of her mind. Inside a coil of molten emotion was building, getting ready to explode. Meanwhile, she was enjoying the quiet moment with her husband. Two careers and two young children didn’t leave them much couple time.

The sliding of his cock slowly stopped. Her man stilled, deep inside her. She waited a few breaths to see what next he had in mind, watching his beloved face, hands resting gently on his broad shoulders. Her arousal relaxing, the delicious molten feeling cooling waiting to be reheated to lava levels.

“Hey, are you okay?” she finally had to ask.

He blinked and looked down as if suddenly discovering Cheryl beneath him in the middle of a pushup. “Sorry, just thought of work.”

“This is the only work you should be thinking of.” Cheryl said firmly, giving her hips a wiggle. Taking his face between her hands, she added. “Besides, it’s more funner.”

Restarting his rocking movement at a brisker pace, he smiled innocently. “More funner?”

“Yes, more funner.” She arched as he began to hit her G spot, momentarily closing her eyes.

Taking advantage of the arch, Joe sucked her left tit. Finding no additional reaction, he switched to her right tit. He sucked it a second and then bit lightly down. A moan escaped his wife’s lips. Quickly he switched back to the left tit and sucked again. This time she bucked as though an electric shock went through her. He pushed himself back up for better bracing and increased speed again.

“Is funner really a word?”

The coil was getting ready to explode, but even so she had to ask, “Really? … Grammar police while we are having sex?” She tried to keep her face stern as he hit the perfect place again.

He chuckled, throwing off his strokes. Cheryl’s lips twitched as well. Suddenly he collapsed on her and they were both laughing. The molten emotions switched to humor and joy. His dick shrank a little, then equally suddenly he kissed her full on the lip and pushed himself back up. He pounded into her, and she had to tighten her legs in order not to move into the metal headboard. Within seconds her orgasm took her and he followed her over the cliff, spilling his seed.

(words 397 – first published 12/26/2012)

Writing Exercise: Paragraph Breaks

Blond Girl On The Camomile Field

FreeDigitalPhotos.net photo by Serge Bertasius Photography

The Power of Paragraph
So few people use the paragraph to their advantage. Yes, writing is about words and grammar and punctuation, but white space has power too.

WRITING EXERCISE: Write a scene, 100 words or less and use normal paragraph rules. Take the same scene, but change the paragraph breaks to enhance the story.

******

Matilda (without paragraph breaks)

The boy ran until he hit the crossroads. Looking right, he saw Matilda, the most beautiful girl in town. She would be going to the marriage festival in the city soon. He always meant to talk to her, tell her how he felt. But he was behind schedule, like always, and turned left, restarting his run. He never saw her again. (words 61)

*****

Matilda (with paragraph breaks)

The boy ran until he hit the crossroads.

Looking right, he saw Matilda, the most beautiful girl in town. She would be going to the marriage festival in the city soon. He always meant to talk to her, tell her how he felt. But he was behind schedule, like always, and turned left, restarting his run.

He never saw her again.

(first published 01/23/2015; republished new blog format 2/23/2016)

Flash: Smells Like Teen Spirit

Black Sneakers Stock Photo

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The stench of sweaty male nearly overpowered the potpie cooking in the oven when LaVarr and Alijah started opening cupboards to set the table for dinner.

“Hold on a moment.” Melissa leaned over and did a quick sniff on both her boys. “LaVarr, figure out if it is you or your clothes and get whichever it is clean before we sit down.”

Looking smug, the younger brother declared, “Told you, you stink.”

LaVarr made to shove his brother but saw his mother cross her arms, so he just glowered instead. As a teenager, he was great at glowering and stomping; he proved the second by stomping to the shared bedroom.

Pulling out the juice and salad dressings, Melissa mentioned to her youngest. “You may want to figure out a better way to word things if you actually are trying to help.”

“But he does smell. How else can you say that?” He asked placing the glasses around their small kitchen table.

Melissa thought about it a moment before shrugging. “Better somehow.” She started speaking louder as the shower turned on elsewhere in their apartment. “Sometimes pointing out the consequences works.”

“Like what?”

“Like learning about mythology can help you write better video games. Carrot works better than a stick.”

Alijah nodded, clearly remembering the argument his mom had presented last week when he tried to blow off an English paper, “Okay. Yeah. So telling LaVarr if he wants to date Sherra, he needs to look sharp.”

“That might work.” Melissa agreed.

Since her declaration in September the boys were in charge of cleaning their own room, Alijah and LaVarr had been going head-to-head a bit more. Alijah was a neat freak, and LaVarr, to put it mildly, was not. Alijah learned to do laundry and took over that chore from her by Halloween; he liked getting clean sheets twice a week, as opposed to her once every other week schedule, and thought it stupid to do less than a full load. The school lessons on recycling and saving energy found a convert in him.

But as successful as the new situation was with Alijah, after a month of picking up after his brother, a family meeting was necessary which resulted in a line of electrical tape down the center of the boys’ bedroom. Since the clear demarcation of territory, she wasn’t sure if any of LaVarr’s clothes had been washed. She had hoped he would have a sharper learning curve, but since turning fifteen his ability to be reasoned with seemed to have entirely disappeared.

LaVarr rejoined them in an entirely new outfit, one of the ones he never wears because it was beyond uncool, likely the only clean one in his closet that fit since his last growth spurt. He also had shaved the curly wisps from his chin. He glowered at them eating before dumping the rest of the salad on his plate, pouring on croutons and dressing, then stabbing into the tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, and lettuce like serial killer.

“So since neither of you have sports tomorrow, Grandma Clark offered to pick you guys up from school.” Melissa inserted the words into the heavy atmosphere her oldest had brought to the table. “She and PopPop are thinking about taking you to that new cartoon you have been wanting to see.”

Alijah rolled his eyes before loading a second serving of potpie on his plate. “It’s anime mom. Hayao Miyazaki is a wizard. You really need to see some of his stuff.”

“Sorry, but I got to work late.” Melissa pushed the last of her peas onto her fork. “Afterwards, they will be coming back here so we are going to do some house cleaning tonight.”

“Is Dad going to come?”

LaVarr growled at his brother. “Of course Dad isn’t fucking going to come.”

“Watch your mouth LaVarr! I can have them leave you with the after-school program tomorrow.”

His mouth formed a grim line as he gritted out, “Sorry, mom.” Reaching across the table he grabbed the main dish, scouped out a double-sized serving, and started plowing his way through that. He clearly wanted to storm off, but the food was here and he was fifteen.

“Alijah, Grandma Clark had not mentioned anything about your father being there.”

Their father had managed to shirk his child support for the past six years, but just because their son ended up being a jerk, Melissa saw no reason to cut her children off from the Clarks. She had half grown up in their house and still loved and got along with everyone on that side of the family, aunts, uncles, and even second cousins met at the summer family reunions, everyone except for her ex-husband, whom had taken to dodging his entire clan because everyone was on her side.

“Oh, okay. Just wondering.” Her more sensitive son slouched in his chair.

“Well, I am done. Shall you and I start on the laundry? You were wanting to know how to do ironing.” Melissa took her plate over to the dishwasher.

Alijah shoved in the last three bites before bounding over with his dishes. Talking around his full mouth, he said. “Sure do, the orchestra tuxedo shirts look crummy unless ironed.” Glancing at his brother, he added, “Can’t get the girls looking crummy.”

“Like you get girls in orchestra,” his brother sneered.

“Sure can, over half the orchestra is girls.”

“Nerd girls.”

Alijah smiled wide. “Yep, nerd girls who like video games.”

“Anyone in particular you might like to ask to go to the movies with you tomorrow?” Melissa asked.

Alijah’s face lit up as they walked to the laundry alcove in the hallway. LaVarr would have gagged at the thought of having his grandparents be chaperons, but for Alijah getting to take a girl out would be a first. “Elaina, she plays in the violins, and loves sci-fi. We were discussing the mythology of Star Wars in class.”

“Do you know her phone number?” Melissa pulled down the ironing board and plugged in the iron.

“We are in the net-group for English, so I think I can get her.” Alijah frowned, considering.

Melissa nodded, “So it is possible to ask her and her parents tonight. Why don’t you call Grandma Clark while the iron heats up to see if she is willing to take on another passenger?”

(words 1,058 – first publication 2/21/2016)