Imagery.

I received a lot of really good questions regarding query letters and literary agents from my last post, and I wanted to start off this one by saying that I’m working on a post for next week that explains both of those things in more detail.

But for today’s post, I wanted to give you a few writing samples!

I mentioned previously that the Kansas City Public Library has been partnering with Creative Writing MFA students to host writing classes for the public. I just got their spring schedule for classes, and I am so excited about what they have lined up! My goal is to try for at least one a month. Unfortunately, a lot of them are on weekdays during normal working hours.

In October, I participated in one of these classes that focused on imagery. We were shown an image and had to craft a story or a scene based on that image. 

I wasn’t sure what to expect from this class, but I enjoyed it. I’m more of a novel writer (and the occasional poet), so capturing a scene or a story in a paragraph or a page isn’t something I would consider a strength. 

However, it was a nice change of pace to not have to worry about crafting something on such a large scale. I could just focus on what I saw and write about that. As far as writing exercises go, this may be a new favorite.

After the class (which was made up of people of various ages, ethnicities, and backgrounds) had some time to write, we were able to share our work. I was hesitant to share my own work, but it was fascinating listening to the others read what they had written. Even though we were all looking at the same picture, our stories and writing styles were all so different! 

As I’ve said, this is a place for me to share, so I’d like to share a couple of the exercises I wrote that day. Please note that this class was only a two hours long, and we only had about ten minutes for the first exercise and thirty for the second. That kind of time constraint doesn’t leave much time for editing, so they are definitely rough drafts. For this first exercise, I was able to find the same image we used in class!

Writing Exercise #1

As she spun, she sought to memorize every detail of this perfect moment. His crisp white shirt smelled of him. The feel of her hand in his, firm, but loose. The way her long blonde hair swirled in the wind as she spun. The earthy smell of the tall trees and dirt path they’d been traveling down. The sun shone through the gaps in the trees, illuminating everything in the golden light of dusk. Her light cotton dress hung off her shoulders and the flowy sleeves caught the breeze created from their spinning. She looked up to meet his brown eyes and he grinned at her. There wasn’t any music playing, but she swore that she could hear a faint melody playing in time with their dance.

Writing Exercise #2

(I was unable to find the image we used for this prompt, or anything that was close. So you’ll just have to use your imagination. The image was a $50 bill in a safe, a red pen, and a legal pad that says, “Congrats! Please…”)

I arrived at my desk a little earlier than usual, and by “earlier,” I mean it was 5:30 in the morning. I was the only person here, as evidenced by the dark office that greeted me. As I turned on a few lights, I noticed that my palms were already sweaty, and I could feel my heartbeat start to pick up. I knew no one else came in on Mondays before 9 am, which was more than plenty of time, but I was still nervous about what I had to do. I took a couple deep breaths, willing my racing heart to slow down. Walking briskly toward my desk, I flopped into my office chair. Another deep breath. In. Out. 

I hate this, I thought to myself. I am better than this.

I wasn’t. 

I reached into my laptop bag and pulled out the key to my cabinet. There was no reason for the cabinet at my desk to have a safe. No reason whatsoever. I rarely kept anything personal at work—let alone anything valuable. Bracing myself, I unlocked it and took stock of the contents. A fifty dollar bill sat on top of a notepad. A red pen, one of my red pens, sat next to the notepad. I gingerly moved the fifty, and saw that there was writing on the paper. 

“Congrats! Please continue the great work! -Wilson.”

I rolled my eyes. 

How condescending. 

Gosh, I hated him.

I didn’t want to continue the “great work.” I didn’t want to continue accepting money from Wilson like this, but I slipped the fifty into the pocket of my slacks anyway. Money was money and this would buy me groceries for the week.

I crumpled up Wilson’s note as I threw it in my laptop bag. I couldn’t leave evidence here. I placed my red pen back in my pen jar and put the small notepad back in the drawer on the right hand side of my desk. 

Reaching back into my laptop bag, I pulled out a nondescript black folder full of paper. I opened the folder, reading back over my work—although it would become Wilson’s work—and deeming it satisfactory, I walked it over to Wilson’s desk, which was three down from mine. A second key from my pocket unlocked the safe at his desk, and I deposited the folder of papers in it with a huff before locking it back up again. 

As I took a seat back at my desk, I checked the watch on my wrist. 5:48. That left me a little over three hours to get my own work done before my co-workers started arriving for the day. Before Wilson came in and smugly continued to turn in my work as his own.