I’m taking an online writing course to help me create a daily writing habit. Each day, we read a short poem or piece of writing that is used as an inspirational writing prompt.
Here’s Week One’s output.
Day One: Ten questions, biographical or in character. I chose the main character from a novel I am writing about a girl whose family relocated to Hawaii in the mid-80’s.
1. When I was ten years old, I thought that I’d grow up to be a veterinarian. I loved animals and always wanted a pet, but we move around a lot because my dad is in the Marine Corps, so my parents won’t let me have a dog or cat or any pet, although I usually adopt some local creature as my own whenever I can. During second grade, I went on a camping trip with my scout group and found a huge snail, so I smuggled it home and kept it on my windowsill. I’d steal pieces of lettuce from my dinner plate and feed it. I didn’t think it would move mooch but the next day when I cam home from school, the snail was gone. I like to think it crawled down the wall of our apartment building and I rationalized its absence as that rather than it being plucked from the windowsill by a bird.
2. Instead I grew up to be …well, I’m not quite grown up yet in the sense of graduating college, getting a job and all that grown up kind of stuff. I am working at our local pizza parlor, if that counts, but I’d like to think I will advance beyond food prep work.
3. The worst thing I ever did was in 5th grade when I told one of the girls in my neighborhood about where babies come from. She was only 8 years old at the time but I had just had “the talk” at school and she asked, so I gave it to her straight. I liked feeling like I knew something special and I didn’t want to seem like a snob with my newfound knowledge, so I described the mechanics of the act. The next day, when I cam home from school, I saw The Look on my mother’s face. Apparently my description of sex had completely freaked out the girl and she hadn’t slept most of the night. I had to go over to her house and apologize to her and her mother. I was mortified.
4. I used to think the Bible was true, but every since my experience at my Catholic high school now I believe it’s just an epic novel.
5. The accomplishment that I am the most proud of is beating Claudia Elden in the 1981 spelling bee. Echinacea. What the hell?
6. If I could have a superpower, it would be the ability to know if someone is lying.
7. In my purse/bag, I always carry a brush. Damn irish genes.
8. One thing I’ve never told anyone about is that last summer, I went on one of those amusement park rides with a dark tunnel and I kissed my cousin. With tongue.
9. I typically express my creativity by decorating my room and drawing. I also really enjoy acting. I get a lot of practice every time my family moves and I have to show up at a new school and make friends.
10. If I were to run away, I would take my Sony walkman and stow away in an airplane and go back to the mainland. But I would never do that.
Day Two: Bullet to the Brain, inspiration from “Bullet In The Brain,” by Tobias Wolff
She didn’t remember the slamming of metal onto metal and how her body was thrown violently against the harness straps of her ejection seat when the jet she flew stopped cold in 60 feet on the aircraft carrier. She didn’t remember the deep feelings of loss when friends were plucked from existence, seen one morning before a mission but never to return. The birthdays, Christmases, Easter baskets, summer BBQs…none came to mind as the bullet pierced her skull. She didn’t recall graduations, First Communion, confirmation, her wedding, the final signing of her divorce papers…no rites of passage in her life which at the time had felt heavy and electric.
She remembered sweat and pressure and pain and the overwhelming desire to push a baby out of her body. She remembered her first: stuck in the canal, hesitant to emerge. She thought he would never come out, and when he finally was suctioned free, she saw his gray pallor and held him for a second before he was whisked away by nurses to be resuscitated. She remembered her second, a girl, who gave her a damnned difficult pregnancy but popped out with three pushes. Her daughter was pink, warm, soft and sweet. She remembered holding her for the first time, and as the bullet completed its path and introduced her to her mortality, she remembered that she had brought life into this world and would never truly leave it.
Day Three: Obsessions/Complusions. Inspiration from A Plague of Tics, by David Sedaris
I can’t buy it anymore. I think that I’ll be able to moderate my consumption, but if there is a jar of Nutella in my house, it will not last more than a day. Despite earnest attempts at willpower, I simply cannot resist. Maybe it’s because it tastes so damn good on just about everything. You can spread it on bland delivery devices like bread or crackers. Dipping something salty like a pretzel yields nirvana. A spoonful on a scoop of vanilla ice cream elevates the dessert to divine. Jamming a spoon into the jar and pulling away a glob works fine, too, until you find yourself with the very last traces, wondering how the creators of this magical creme could design a jar that does not enable you to scrape out the remnants and you are forced to test whether or not your tongue is long enough to lick the sides. I have learned my lesson and accepted that I must refrain from purchasing the jars I see at the grocery store and deny myself the pleasures of Nutella, lest my jeans start straining from the rapid consumption of 2,000 calories. And don’t get me started about those assholes at CostCo, with their 2-pack of 33.5 oz jars of my Kryptonite. They mock my pain.
Day Four: Pillow Book. Inspiration from the The Pillow Book of Lady Sei Shonagon, an observational notebook written over 1,000 years ago.
Being awakened from a deep, comfortable warm sleep by the jagged, blaring bleats of one’s alarm clock.
The reckless driver who speeds through a parking lot of stationary cars and exposed people.
The distracted driver who plods along in the left lane of the highway, drifting sporadically towards the slower lane but never pulling into it.
Sliding the USB cable into a port with the correct side up so it easily engages and you don’t have to flip it over and try again.
The first bite of a warm, sugary malasada…slightly crispy on the outside but doughy and soft on the inside.
The moment when your daughter spots you in the crowd of parantparazzi at the school band concert and knows you made the effort to be there to support her.
When your young children wrap their chubby little arms around your neck and hold on to you like they’ll never let you go.
Day Five: was a long week at work and I punted this assignment.