Ok, so I said that I was going to try my hand at some creative writing, and I have. Here it is. To get myself into it and get the creative juices flowing, I’m doing a few writing exercises that I found online. Details of the exercise posted first in red.
I post this with my heart in my throat…
Creative Writing Exercise #1
“The Diamond Studded Potato Peeler”
Look around the space you’re in. Find an object smaller than a fridge and focus your intelligence on it briefly. Imagine a situation where that object is vitally, life-savingly important. It is intensely valuable. Write a 500 word story about it in 20 minutes or less. Go!
The cigar humidor sat in the back of the restaurant’s smoking section. Nothing about this humidor marked it as special. Dark wood, glass door, brass fittings, mass produced. Innocuous enough. Yet this seemingly-standard receptacle held information that would allow the equally bland looking woman in the corner to change the world.
Patrons sat in a table to the left of humidor, unaware of its vital importance in Kathy’s life. Nothing about Kathy Rovo stood out. In her early thirties, with mousy brown hair and nondescript brown eyes, no-one would suspect her of being the specialist hired to take care of Bailey’s little problem. Hell, Kathy could count the number of people that knew about Bailey Claire’s predicament on one hand.
Kathy studied the magazine in her hand as she considered Bailey Claire, multimillionaire media mogul and leader of industry’s most covert organisation. There had been enough hints at the organisation’s existence over the past decade to get the conspiracy theorists salivating, but Bailey’s iron fisted control of many of the world’s media outlets had allowed her to squash them before they ever entered the mainstream consciousness. Her relationships with other global captains of industry helped – as did their membership of the almost cultist club. The Valley Girls, thought Kathy, was possibly the most ridiculous name for some of the most intelligent women on earth. But perhaps she should give them credit for having a sense of humour.
Kathy’s knowledge of their existence was both blessing and curse. They certainly helped maintain the lifestyle to which she had quickly become accustomed, but knowing who these women were could be dangerous. Very dangerous.
Kathy flipped her hair over her shoulder as she focused on the job at hand.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Looking up, Kathy noticed that the painfully hip waiter had sidled up to her table.
“No thanks” she replied, “but can I help myself to one of those cherry cigars? You can just add it to my bill.”
He raised his hand in an obviously studied gesture that Kathy assumed was meant to convey that she should go ahead.
Heart racing, Kathy stood up, tugged at the hem of her shirt and walked over to the humidor. As she carefully selected a Monte Carlo cigar – third from the left, second row down – she noticed a grey-haired man staring at her. She prepared to abandon the exercise when he frowned. “In my day, women didn’t smoke those. Too masculine. But I guess times are changing,” he commented.
She grimaced and gave him her best scowl as she replied, “In my day its considered foolish to make judgements based on appearances. Its for my husband. Not that its any of your business.” The meddler had the good grace to look chastened and Kathy smirked as she picked up the cigar and headed back to her table.
Settling back into the soft-backed chair, she gave the cigar a passing glance before she slipped it into her handbag.
Her instructions were printed on the cigar’s casing. Rigatoni Café, 18 Smith Street West, 17h15. Order the Chocolate Delight.
Kathy sighed, realising she only had 30 minutes to get across town. As she left cash on the table, gathered her belongings and left she considered how she was going to make it through rush hour traffic in time. Momentarily lost in thought, she didn’t notice the grey-haired man mirroring her actions. Or the leonine grace with which he moved.