Writing Club Week 2

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[Icy]

The exercise?

Write for 10 minutes on the week's topic.  Any genre. 

DO NOT use the edit or backspace keys!  The idea is to just write without worrying about perfection.

The topic?

First person here Monday morning (let's say...no earlier than 9:00 AM EST) sets the topic for the week.  Topic can be anything, but try and keep it to one or two words. 

(Last week's topic was "Dust Bunny": http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,4675.0.html)

[the problem child]

Proposed topic: Where the Wild Things Aren't

[Icy]

Yay!  We have our topic!

Love that book, problem!  Even gave one of my sons the middle name "Max" because of it....

Heh...just remembered that we threw a "Wild Things" party for his 2nd birthday.  My daughter found a Max costume for him, tail and all.  The cutest thing!  Have to see if I can dig up the photos!

[the problem child]

Now, Icy, before you bring out the inflatable palm trees and get everybody drunk on Monster Mix, it's Where the Wild Things AREN'T! But whatever, we could go ARE, too, also.

[Icy]

Much more interesting with "aren't"!

Just can't help myself...that's like....sob...the bestest book in the while world!!!!

[Alex]

In Iceland, the vast majority of residents believe in elves, trolls, and other "hidden" beings.

And as this photo from Thingvellir (where you can literally see the European and American tectonic plates pulling apart) shows, it's easy to see why:

[Aeroentropy]

@Alex -

NICE!  This explains a lot.

[ira2]

Where the Wild Things Aren't

There was a mouse in this house last night.
"Hi there, brat," said the cat and took a bite.
Liked the taste and with haste ate the whole mouse all right.

Here, the wild things just - aren't... not for long anyway 

[The Blogger]

I try with this, you have patience with language, please?  I tamper down to keep PG rating, okay?



Where the Wild Things Are Not by Alain The Blogger

My wildest thing intoxicates me with her senses what her scent is,
Calls me sail around the moon to follow my bliss (also hers). 

She bring me homegrown fruit from distant orchards.  Stomps on it to make me wine.
Climb into my mind eye late at night.  Looks for spare thoughts like Raphael begging for spare change.

She lathers.  Rinses.  And repeats.

When I call her name, she smile… and her smile captivates all promise of six hundred tomorrows. 
But when she turn away she frown.  And her frown carry burdens of  six hundred and one disappointed yesterdays.

Once we are together.  Now… we are apart. 
Once we share a room and a single beating hart.

We were wild together.  The future now, she hard to say.
I wake up in my bed alone – my Wild Thing has gone away.

[CO Almost Native]

Suburbs
lawns stretch to clean sidewalks,
few leaves rest in the gutters;
and yet-
the wind rises,
fluttering the red ribbons on evergreen wreaths;
a flake appears,
then another
and another;
twirling in the gray air-
snow clouds tumble over the peaks,
swirling; obscuring the foothills-
snow settles on junipers, Christmas lights twinkle beneath the whiteness.
A fox-
russet, bushy,
jumps the stockade fence with effortless grace
and disappears into the twilight.
A coyote calls...

Where wild things aren't...or are they?

[califpat]

 The Southern California Mudpup Party   (changed arent for werent}

They came together, they travel far and wide
To celebrate a hard earned victory with pride
They remimisce their collective struggle
to oust out that lipstick enigmatic puzzle
They eat, they drink, they play, they share
diversive experiences that they compare
They laugh out loud, they  cry a collective tear
Travel down memory lane at the things they hear
Something wonderful is unfolding where they gather
friendship, commonality, spiritual bonds forever
Reluctance to leave to savor the  moment
Twas a wonderful time like a beautiful sonnet
Such an amazing event where wild things werent
Watch out for those socal mudpups, it's only their first

[Writing from Alaska]

Where the Wild Things aren't

The Wild Things aren't where imagination is lacking
From there the Wild Things are missing,
Their snarls, their fearful stomps are no where to be found
They are not there
To help a child get over
Fears of impossible creatures

Where there is no imagination
There is no way to prepare
For the fear-inspiring days ahead.....

[Lucy]

Hmmm. I haven't done Haiku since the last time it was assigned in school (probably junior high). NOw this is two.

WHERE THE WILD THINGS AREN'T

Wild things aren't welcome
mainstream.  They find their soul out-
side.  More freedom there

Wild things aren't on Main
Wild Things aren't welcome in schools
But they find a way


(note: is “wild” one syllable or two?)

[Goalie]

Sitting in my sick bed I beg to be out that window resting on a tree limb
High above the silly people who don't even know I am with the wild things that aren't
As I pace the halls with a tree with tubes and beeping noises, I recall the wild things that aren't
and wish to be anywhere but there....anywhere
I don't belong here, I belong where the wild things aren't

[Writing from Alaska]

Lucy  - Wild - one syllable, unless you over pronounce it Wy-uld...gee, who might do that - ??

[Icy]

Hey all you writers!

There's a slight delay in starting Week 3's exercise.....one of our members, LJP aka Revolver Trooper (who is also a Forum Moderator) is a Creative Writing Professor.

She has agreed to create the next Writing Exercise for us!  It should be posted some time tomorrow...so look for it!

[Lucy]

Hey all you writers!

There's a slight delay in starting Week 3's exercise.....one of our members, LJP aka Revolver Trooper (who is also a Forum Moderator) is a Creative Writing Professor.

She has agreed to create the next Writing Exercise for us!  It should be posted some time tomorrow...so look for it!

COOL.  Looking forward to it.

[LJP aka Revolver Trooper]

THE PRESSURE!!!!

[ira2]

LJP... YOU talk about pressure!! We writing folk are the ones who are going to be tossed willy-nilly up the ladder onto professorially-led heights! Moi, I never even finished high school, you know... anything "higher eddication" is very daunting to me. THE PRESSURE OF IT, ACH!

Actually, I'm looking forward to it too... but that just doesn't go with the lament and all 

[Dianna]

                                           PRESSURE

The writing is making me nervous. I am nervous because there are people in here that read it. I am more nervous because there are english teachers and professors reading it. I have wrestled with the dust bunnies and now the missing wild things (which never got done). I admire writers tremendously but do not classify myself as one, in the least but love coming in here to read all your posts and admire the creativity so many of you have.

My cogs and wheels are seizing up in my brain. Does anyone in here have this problem???


Slithering away to another forum now.