Three-Minute Fiction

My dad, a talented photographer, always told me that a photograph should tell a story, evoke some type of mood. Sadly, I never mastered the art of photography. I am still trying to figure out what button to press to capture a photo. The result hasn't been very good, but still, I try. I do like to use photos for writing prompts. If the photographer has been successful, the photo evokes some type of reaction. The image might spark another image or a memory or an emotion. In the past, I've recommending looking through old photo albums. Choose several photos and do a fifteen-minute freewrite on each. Flip through magazines that are rich with photos and choose one to do a freewrite. It doesn't have to lead to a larger work or anything at all. The importance is that you've written something. Don't throw it away. Tuck it in your notebook. Maybe someday down the road, when you're flipping through your notebooks, it'll lead to something else. If it doesn't, that's okay, too.

Speaking of photographs...NPR is sponsoring round three of their Three-Minute Fiction contest. This time around, they're giving you a photo on which to base a 600 word story. The contest is free to enter, and you can enter online. Here are the links:
Three-Minute Fiction Round Three

Official Rules: Three-Minute Fiction Round Three

Good luck and keep writing!

What I Didn't Do On My Summer Vacation

It’s Labor Day weekend, and even though summer doesn’t officially end until later this month, people are having their final summer picnics and closing their pools until next season. Around here, the kids have already completed their first week of school. Where did the summer go? While I love autumn and football games, I’m sorry to see the summer end. It seemed to go by in a blink. I didn’t get to do what I had hoped or had planned to do.

I didn’t get to the beach as I had hoped. I heard about others’ beach trips, and I watched my co-workers and neighbors getting tanner. I didn’t plant any flower boxes. I didn’t quit smoking. I didn’t finish my novel. I didn’t read all the books I ordered from the book catalogues that kept coming in the mail. My summer sounds so boring and bleak. But even though I spent most of the summer working, there were some lovely moments. Originally for this week’s exercise I was going to ask you to do a twist on the Natalie Goldberg freewrite “What I did on my summer vacation,” and change it to “What I didn’t do…” But that sounds so negative and full of regret. There’s enough negativity around us. Instead, I want us to continue focusing on the positive, on hope.

I didn’t get to do a lot of things I had hoped, but for the most part, I had a great summer. My favorite memory is of the time my daughter and I went to the county fair. We walked through the rows of farm animals. We watched baby chicks hatching. She had her picture taken with a cow. We watched a live elephant show and went to the petting zoo. We fed the baby goats and a llama spit on her. I couldn’t convince her to ride a camel. When a guy in one of the booths approached us, he asked if we were sisters. We told him we were cousins transplanted from Pittsburgh. Daisy and Lola. I told him a story about how Daisy’s mom was an F. Scott Fitzgerald aficionado and named her after the Daisy in The Great Gatsby. You think that would have scared him away, but instead, he asked us for our number. We gave him the number to the Rejection Hotline. We ate traditional fair food and listened to the live bands. The air was filled with the smell of frying funnel cakes and French fries (the vendor called them Freedom fries, and I went into a rant about how French fries have nothing to do with France). From a distance we watched the dust clouds and heard the roaring engines of the tractor pull. We got caught in a downpour and ran through the rain, laughing. Mostly from that day I remember we laughed a lot.

For this week’s freewrite, write about your favorite summer memory. It doesn’t have to be from this most recent summer. Start your freewrite with, “When I think about summer…”Set your timer for 15 minutes and write without stopping, without censoring yourself.

Mrs. Beasley

One winter afternoon when I was around 4 or 5, I looked out our picture window. “Gramma’s here! And she brought presents!” After she had shed her coat and scarf, Gramma laid one of the wrapped packages on my lap. Inside was the blue and white rag doll, Mrs. Beasley, made popular by the TV series, “Family Affair.” The doll was the favorite toy of the little girl, Burry. Mrs. Beasley was her security blanket and friend, and she became mine as well.

My mother said she thought the doll was ugly. Mrs. Beasley had yellow hair and had a yellow and white polka dotted skirt and legs. She wore rectangular spectacles. She was a talking doll. When you pulled her string, Mrs. Beasley said, “Want to hear a secret? I know one.” My mother might have thought she was an ugly doll, but I grew attached to Mrs. Beasley immediately.

My sister and I spent hours playing with our dolls. She had a collection of beautiful baby dolls with silky curls and eyes that opened and closed. Sometimes she’d let me put one of the embroidered, crinoline dresses on Mrs. Beasley. I’d also take off her glasses so she looked more like a baby and less “ugly.”

Mrs. Beasley was a source of comfort for me. When I was not playing with her, she had a prominent spot in the center of my bed and propped up by pillows. I took her along on camping trips and on visits to Gramma. She was who I reached for when I felt like crying, or when I couldn’t sleep.

I remember one time before my mother left us, she grabbed Mrs. Beasley off my bed and threatened to cut her to bits with the shears she had taken from my father’s pattern table. I pleaded and screamed and cried until I collapsed on the floor. My mother laughed, dropped Mrs. Beasley on me and left the room.

We had survived my mother’s wrath. If Mrs. Beasley had been capable of real feelings (which I believed for years) she was as relieved as I was. Mrs. Beasley saw me through my parents’ divorce, my teen angst and breakups. Even when I was in college, I still sometimes hugged her and cried. She retained her spot on my bed when I moved into my first apartment. My roommate thought I was odd.

Eventually I got married, and when I moved into my marital abode, Mrs. Beasley got packed into a box for storage. I hoped one day when I had my own daughter, she would enjoy Mrs. Beasley as much as I had. When the kids were small, I recovered her from storage. I had to sew on one of her arms. One of the cats later chewed off one of her hands. My daughter didn’t want to play with Mrs. Beasley. I think she was scared of her. I pulled on the string to hear, “Want to hear a secret? I know one.” What came out was something garbled and creepy, like something you’d hear in a horror movie. Mrs. Beasley got moved from a shelf to the bottom of the toy box along with broken Lego blocks. I don’t know when—maybe I’m blocking it out—I finally let her go and put her in a box with other broken or mismatched toys we put on the curb for Spring cleanup. All these years later I feel guilty and sad about it. Mrs. Beasley was more than just a doll to me.

Think about your favorite childhood toys or something you became attached to. Describe it using all senses. Who gave it to you? Why was it your favorite? Set your timer for fifteen minutes and freewrite without stopping. Feel free to share your memories here…

What I've Left Behind

It’s been a few months since I’ve moved, and I think I’ve finally settled in, finally feel like it’s home. (The cats seem less traumatized and are settling well, too.) But some days I make myself crazy trying to find things, wondering if it’s something else I’ve left behind. Just this morning, I wanted to look up something in a book, but for the life of me, I couldn’t find it. I tore through piles of books I have scattered throughout my home. No luck. Did I have it at my last residence? Yes. So I know it’s not in storage in my ex’s house. Have I picked up the book since I’ve moved? Yes. So I know it’s not in the boxes of books I have stashed in my closets. When was the last time I read it? I couldn’t remember. Did I take it to work? Is it in my car? Did I throw it in a drawer? I was wasting too much time trying to find it. Time to move on and do something constructive.

Back in 1937, when the original Sloppy Joe’s Bar moved from 268 Greene Street to its current location on Greene and Duval Streets, patrons picked up their glasses and whatever fixtures the could grab and walked down the street to the new location. Business was not disrupted and continued with hardly a blink of an eye. Moving could not be any easier.

Moving is never easy, but the best part is starting with a clean slate, starting over. Finally having a place of my own, to arrange things the way I want to, no one to second guess why I’m doing this or that. I feel like I’ve taken back control I’ve lost over the years. Yes, I like that.

But then I have days I when I discover something I’ve left behind. It’s usually something insignificant like my favorite paring knife, the potato masher, some other kitchen gadget. All that is replaceable. Sometimes I think about the other things I’ve left behind, not replaceable. My childhood home. Before that, being physically a part of my kids’ lives. Leaving was a difficult but necessary decision, and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t feel guilt or heartbreak. We stay in touch via text and phone and email, but I miss the daily closeness and routine. I miss not being able to just reach out and hug my daughter when she’s had a bad day at school, or when she’s sad because the boy she likes dropped her from his MySpace friends list. Or just grabbing and hugging them for no reason at all. I miss the clatter in the kitchen and the clutter and noise that comes with a house full of teenagers. I even miss the nagging about homework, computer time or laundry. I’m missing the arguments about who gets to use the car or whether the things they’re doing to fill their time will enhance their college applications. I hope someday they’ll understand. Meantime I let them know as often as I can that I love them, I have and always will, no matter what.

For your freewrite this week, write about the things or people you’ve left behind. Set your timer for 15 minutes. Don’t stop and don’t censor yourself. Take a deep breath and go deep…

The Rear Window

Alfred Hitchcock’s film, “The Rear Window” was about a photographer who was stranded in his house with a broken leg. He begins to watch his neighbors’ comings and goings through his telephoto lens. Then he witnesses a murder, but no one believes him. He enlists his friends’ help—and his beautiful girlfriend played by Grace Kelly—to prove his neighbor murdered his wife.

In Sinclair Lewis’ novel, Main Street, Mrs. Dr. Kennicott is a newbie in a small closeknit town. She feels she is an outsider under scrutiny as well as the town’s current curiosity. In one scene she overhears a group of boys and their observations of her from outside her living room window. One boy imitates her mannerisms and ridicules the way she tried to straighten a painting on her living room wall. In another scene while strolling through town, she observes her neighbors watching her from behind their curtains and shrubs. But were they watching her as much as she imagined? Her paranoia might have been a product of her sensitivity to being an outsider.

Many of my characters in my novel, Living in the City, were inspired by real-life neighbors (or compilations of them). A man who drove around the neighborhood in an ice cream truck and sold carnival toys and cotton candy up and down the alley was the inspiration for my character Junior, who called himself an entrepreneur. As the novel went on, this scrungy man who at first I didn’t like became a lovable, eccentric man I enjoyed spending time with.

What’s outside your window? Who’s coming and going? Who has lived in your neighbors’ houses? What conflicts do your neighbors have with themselves, their families, or each other? What are the neighbors are saying about each other? We can approach writing about our neighbors from various angles.

First write about what is going on outside your window from an objective point of view. Report what you see without editorializing. For instance, Mrs. Adams and her chubby daughters are planting marigolds around the mailbox. Chris, the 17-year-old boy bolts through the door and hops into the back of a waiting pick up truck with four other boys. One boy tosses out a beer can. The boys whoop and holler, the truck tires squeal, and Mrs. Adams runs after them, shouting and shaking a trowel. After you’ve written a page or so, ask questions regarding the scene you just reported. What is going on between the mother and her children? What will happen next? What are their individual conflicts? Freewrite from each of their points of view. Try exaggerating one of more character traits. Try this exercise at different times of the day and from different vantage points. If you can’t answer the questions to your original reportage, tuck the piece away for later. Another variation is to string the individual scenes together to form a longer story. Also, try this from the angle of the Sinclair Lewis scenes. Write what your character thinks her neighbors think of her. Or combine the variations. The variations are as limitless as your imagination.

Unlikely Friends

I recently finished a 5-week training class for my job. Including our patient instructor, there were twelve of us. We ranged in ages from 22 to 44 and came from various backgrounds. We instantly bonded, and each day was something to look forward to. The instructor and my new friends made work not seem like work at all. There were random moments when someone would break into song, and the rest of us would join in. We were a rambunctious bunch. I have a deep fondness for everyone I’ve met. Because of our various backgrounds, we may have never met, except maybe to discuss the attributes of avocadoes in our local produce department. We’ve stayed in touch through silly emails and by visiting each other at our respective cubicles, and we’re planning a picnic this coming weekend. To say it warms my heart every time I think of them seems so inadequate. I’ve been given a wonderful gift.

In a 1991 movie called “Married to It” three couples who at first glance seem to have nothing in common are thrown together. The first couple is a young professional couple from Iowa. The young husband is a stockbroker, and his wife is a school psychologist. The second couple is a pair of former hippies (love beads and all) who have two sons who attend the school where the young psychologist works. The third couple is a man working on his second marriage to a wealthy socialite. He has a 13-year-old daughter from his previous marriage. The three women meet at a school function and end up on the same committee. When they have their first meeting, there are long blocks of silence and tension in the air. With each consecutive meeting, these three couples find they have more to talk about, more in common. When the young stockbroker gets into trouble, and the man who’s been married a second time have problems, they discover the meaning of friendship. These unlikely friends support and trust each other.

For this exercise you’re going to create three unlikely friends (or couples) and throw them together in a situation. They don’t need to become friends, as in the movie, but they must have something in common. To begin, freewrite for ten or fifteen minutes to brainstorm ideas. If it’s easier, do a character sketch for your three characters. Each has a conflict. In one or two sentences, write their conflicts. Outline your story. How do they get together? What do they have in common? What are the dynamics of their relationship? Do they part friends, enemies, or indifferent?

Now write one scene for each of your characters showing them at home in the world. For instance, the young psychologist is settling into her closet-office. The socialite and her husband enjoy a lavish dinner. The former hippie couple are in their noisy home trying to have dinner with their two boys. Remember to use sensory details like sights, sounds, smells, etc.

For your next scene, create a situation which throws your characters together. Are they at a party? A school function? A gallery opening? The grocery store? Use description, dialogue and action. How do they treat one another? Do they resist each other? Become friends? What? Let your characters guide you. Use your imagination. If you want, continue writing the rest of the story. The genre is of your choosing. You may use any source to create your characters. Create them from scratch or use characters you’ve already created, or use characters from several published works. As always, have fun with it!

The Mother of Mother's Day

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the observance of Mother’s Day. While Anna Jarvis is credited with the observance, Julia Ward Howe was the first to suggest a national observance.

Anna Jarvis was known as the Mother of Mother’s Day. She never married nor had children. Ms. Jarvis was inspired by her own mother, Anna Marie Reeves Jarvis, who expressed a desire to pay tribute to all mothers, both living and dead, for all their contributions. Anna’s mother was a community activist and a social worker. Most noted were her efforts to heal the divide between north and central West Virginia after the Civil War by organizing Mothers’ Friendship Day. In her community she fought for improved sanitation. For 22 years she taught Sunday School at Andrews Methodist Episcopal Church. She was a popular public speaker, uncommon for a woman in those days. When she died in 1905, the church bells tolled 72 times in her honor.

After her mother’s death, Anna Jarvis became more resolved in establishing a Mother’s Day. She distributed white carnations during a church service at the West Virginia church. She chose white carnations because carnations were her mother’s favorite flower, and white because she felt it represented the purity of a mother’s love. She and other supporters lobbied for an official observance of Mother’s Day. West Virginia was the first state to recognize it as a holiday. In 1914 President Woodrow Wilson approved a resolution to designate the second Sunday in May as Mother’s Day.

This should have pleased Anna Jarvis, but instead, the observances upset her. She argued that Mother’s Day had turned into a commercialized event. She became notorious for her criticism of those who purchased greeting cards and accused them of being to lazy to write personal letters to “the woman who has done more for you than anyone in the world.” Before her death in 1948 Jarvis publicly protested a Mother’s Day celebration in New York City and was arrested for disturbing the peace. She was bitter and angry about what the Mother’s Day observance had become. She said she “wished [I] had never started the day because it became so out of control.”

In your writings this week, think about things you were initially passionate about, but in the end did not turn out as you intended. Maybe as in Jarvis’ case, things got out of control. You might want to start with a freewrite with “I am passionate about…” or “I want…” or “I wish…” Another suggestion is to freewrite about things going out of control. Freewrite for at least fifteen minutes and see where it takes you. As always…have fun with it!

Joyce Maynard, one of my favorite authors wrote a touching essay on Mother's Day. Here's the link: http://www.joycemaynard.com/home.shtml
[Note: Scroll midway down the page until you see "Letter From Joyce.]

Newspapers, Obituaries and "Dear Abby"

A newspaper article about a Texas girl who cut Elvis Presley’s name into her forehead was the inspiration for Anne Tyler’s novel, The Slipping Down Life. Flannery O’Connor admitted to collecting “oddities” from the newspaper. Joyce Carol Oates has used newspapers, the Ann Landers columns and True Confessions magazines for sources of her stories. In her essay, “The Nature of Short Fiction,” Oates wrote, “…it is the very skeletal nature of the newspaper, I think, that attracts me to it, the need it inspires in me to give flesh to such neatly and thinly-told tales, to resurrect this event which has already become history and will never be understood unless it is re-lived, redramatized.” Some examples of stories that resulted from such collecting are, “Where are you going, Where have you been?” and her novel, Black Water.

If you haven't already done so, I recommend starting an idea file. Cut out news stories, obituaries, photos, columns, or whatever else sparks interest. Read the tabloids as well as your local newspaper. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have an idea to go with the clipping yet. From time to time flip through your file. Ask, “What if?” Freewrite or cluster ideas.

Usually news stories report the end of the story, like, for instance, the crime for which the criminal was arrested or the winner of the bologna eating contest. You have to supply the details which led up to the headline. Or ask, “What happened next?” and construct your story that way. After reading an advice column, I often wonder what happened. Did the letter writer take the columnist’s advice? Did the situation get worse? The columnist could become part of the story as well.

Sometimes larger newspapers, like The New York Times, include essays about newly married or affianced couples which include details about how they met. Try obituaries. Sometimes they include extensive bios. Fill in whatever details that aren’t supplied. Read the personal ads and the classifieds. List the ad poster’s conflicts. Create a profile. Mix and match details and wants from several ads. Write a scene where your characters meet for the first time. If you have a story idea, keep going.

As always, have fun with it!

Our Dreams

A few years ago after my uncle’s funeral, I had a dream I still remember clearly. I was running, and breathlessly, I ended up in front of a beautiful brick house. The front lawn was filled with birdhouses—not those square boxes with a hole, but rather, beautiful scale models of Victorian homes with gingerbread trim. My cousin opened the door and ushered me in. Every time we tried to speak, someone new arrived and interrupted our conversation. Soon his living room was crowded with relatives, dead and alive.

For a long time I tried to figure out what this dream meant. Why would I be dreaming about this cousin? We had lost touch, seeing each other only at family funerals. Why were the dead relatives in his living room? And what was the urgent subject of the conversation we never finished? I looked for messages and warnings. Maybe I was supposed to call my cousin. Maybe the birdhouses symbolized something. I was grasping for a logical meaning. I never figured out what the dream was supposed to mean, if anything. Now I have a recurring dream about a white house. In some dreams it crashes into the ocean. I’m not going to drive myself crazy trying to figure out what that one means.

Dreams don’t have to mean anything. According to a therapist I know, she says dreams don’t mean anything unless they’re about your mother or umbrellas. I’m not sure if she was kidding. I bought a dream dictionary anyway. Instead of trying to find a logical meaning in our dreams, we should focus on the vivid images, the colors, the lights, the feeling that sticks in our gut when we wake up. Hone in on those images and jot them down.

In her book, Word Painting, Rebecca McClanahan suggests if we stop trying to figure out our dreams in order to "apply our conscious minds to the unconscious mind it is painting," we may begin to feel the power of the images. We can use those images in our own writing. Or you can use your dreams to help unblock your writing. Amy Tan would let her dreams help solve her story endings. Dreams may also be a source of story ideas. William Styron’s Sophie’s Choice was sparked by a dream. I used the actual dream I mentioned at the beginning in my short story, "Dead Relatives."

Keep a dream journal at your bedside. Record your dreams upon awakening, while they’re still fresh. Record as many details as you can remember—textures, colors, smells, sounds, lighting, and the feeling in your gut. Use your dream journal to record daydreams or other reverie. If you get into the habit of recording your dreams, you’ll probably remember them more and remember more details. After a week, review your journal. Are there any echoing themes or images? What images evoke strong negative or positive reactions? Freewrite about those. Can you use them in your other writing? Maybe an image fits into a short story you’re been working on. Or it is the ideal image with which you can start an article. It'’ possible to find a story idea in your dreams. Dreams lack the logical cause and effect sequence of fiction, but they can be seeds for stories. Or use them in stories, as I did.

Let’s go back to my recurring dream. In trying to figure out what it meant, I asked a lot of questions: Why were there dead relatives in the living room? What was the urgent subject of the conversation we never finished? Who made all the birdhouses? If I answer these questions, they could be bases for story conflicts. Pull out one of your dreams. Ask the five basic questions: Why? What? When? Where? How? Why? Then write possible answers for these questions. Remember, you’re not trying to interpret what the dream means. You’re brainstorming story ideas. If nothing comes to you at the moment, set it aside. An idea may come to you later, perhaps while you’re dreaming.

Conversations Overheard

A few years ago, a waitress overheard a conversation between two Middle Eastern-looking men and reported to the police she overheard them hatching a terrorist plot. The men were arrested, questioned and eventually released. As it turned out, she had made assumptions on their appearances and perhaps let her imagination get the best of her. A similar Premise was often used for situation comdedies like Three's Company and I Love Lucy. For instance, one character overhears one side of part of a conversation and comes to a conclusion. Ricky is having an affair. Janet is pregnant. By the end of the show, the character who made the assumtpion, realizes the misunderstanding, but not before she caused confusion and alarm. The affair turns out to be a surprise party, and the suspected pregnancy is that of another, married friend.

I like to "people watch." To pass the time in the check-out line, I'll watch people in front of me, look at what's in their shopping baskets, boserve their body language, listen to conversations. I make up stories about them. I imagine what they're going to do when they leave the store and imagine where they live, how their place is furnished. Dp they have roommates or spouses? Pets. Children. I'll layer detail after detail until it's my turn at the check-out, or I'm given a dirty look for staring--whichever comes first.

Place yourself where you'd likely find groups of people and listen (discreetly, of course) to the conversations around you. Write the dialogue from memory. Don't worry about action or description at this point. Concentrate on the subject of the dialogue. Is there a conflict between the speakers? What do you think happened before and after this conversation?

Next, choose a point of view. It could be an outsider narrating his or her impressions of the actions and dialogue (like Nick Carraway in F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby). Or do it from the point of view of one of the speakers. You can add a third person who overhears the dialogue and comes to an opposite conclusion from what the speakers are discussing, as in my sitcom example. The dialogue you heard will have basic content, but it is your job to relay the subtexts--the underlying meaning--to the reader. The conversation might be pure gossip, a secret, health or family problems, current events, or merely revealing the basic differences between the characters. It's up to you where you take it, what your characters talk about, or how your narrator or point of view character interprets it. Create a scene with action, dialogue, and description. Freewrite first if it helps you warm up. In your finished piece, you can move your conversation to aplace other than where you heard it. Let your imagination go and have fun with it!

Where Were You When...?

On September 11, 2001 I was walking the last half mile of my morning walk on the cross country course. That morning on my headphones I was listening to a local talk radio station. The host and callers were discussing a freak accident at a nearby amusement park where a teenage boy fell off a rollercoaster to his death. The radio host interrupted his caller saying, “Ohmygod! We just got word that a plane hit one of the towers of the World Trade Center. What a freak accident.”

I shuddered, thinking, “What are the chances of that happening?”

The host broke in again with, “It was not a fluke. Another plane just crashed into the World Trade Center. It is a confirmed terrorist attack.”

I began running, panicked. Nonsensical thoughts flashed through my mind. It hadn’t quite registered, and I had many questions. The questions ranged from wondering about the safety of the people in the towers to wondering about the safety in our own small town hundreds of miles away. Should I pull the kids from school? Where was my husband?

At home I turned on the TV and switched between news stations. I sat frozen and stunned as I watched the World Trade Center collapse. I saw crowds covered with dust running in the streets of New York City. I heard screams. Crying. Sirens. Breathless reporters updating information while plumes of smoke rose in the distance. Years later the images remain fresh in my mind. I doubt I’ll ever erase them.

How many times have you heard people relay their experiences regarding significant and/or tragic historical events? They remember every detail of where they were or what they were doing when Kennedy was shot or Armistice was declared. Some of us may not remember what we ate for dinner two nights ago, but when exposed to a tragic event, our brains seem to record every sensory detail.

It’s your turn. Recall any historical events of your life. Write about the moment you heard the news. Where were you? What were you doing? Record sensory details. Describe the weather. What thoughts and physical sensations did you experience? Don’t worry about fact checking or the correct order of events. Focus on how it related to you. This is your experience.

I've added the next module of the Creating Memorable Characters workshop. You can access it from the main page at CSWriting Workshop.

Family Pets

In addition to a dog, we always had cats when I was growing up. Most memorable was our white Persian, Frosty. He was a purebred. Both his parents were show cats but to us, he was Frosty, a member of our family. We didn’t care about his pedigree. My sister and I dressed him up in doll clothes and wheeled him around the neighborhood in a baby carriage. Ah, we loved the reaction of people when we let them take a peek inside. We ignored the strict diet prescribed by the breeder and fed him from our plates. He liked Doritos®, cheese and spaghetti. Whenever we cooked spaghetti, we always made a plate for him. He devoured it, licking his plate clean. When he finished, his beard was stained orange. It always made us laugh. Despite the violation of his dietary restrictions, he lived until he was seventeen.

Now I have a dog and five cats. Each has a distinctive personality. We have a curmudgeonly cat who is growing more affectionate with age. He snores, has only three teeth, and he has a torn ear because he has escaped death numerous times. Our dog is a beast who loves freeze pops and snowball battles. Then there’s our kitten we call “stupid cat.” My son rescued him one November night from the brink of starvation and frostbite. Stupid Cat became immediately attached to the dog. They’re both gold, so I think the cat thinks the dog is Mommy. Or Daddy. I could fill a volume with stories about these animals. They’ve given me a lot of laughter and few frustrations over the years.

Freewrite about your family pets. Write about the day you brought them home, the things they ate, the toys they played with. Write about leaving them for the first time. Or the time you had to put it to sleep.

If you’ve never owned any pets, write about the neighborhood dog the kids in the neighborhood were afraid of or the cat lady down the street. (There always seems to be one in every neighborhood.) Or maybe it was the chipmunk you fed Cheerios on your windowsill. The rabbit that nibbles your flowers. The class hamster or snake. Write about the pets you wished for. The pugs pressed against the pet store window. The bird you wanted to teach to sing show tunes. Write about the pets you’ll someday have.

I've posted week two's notes and exercises for the free Creating Memorable Characters Workshop. If you haven't been there yet, surf over to the CS Writing Workshop page. I'll be adding new notes and writing exercises each week.

As always...have fun with your writing!