The Pizza of Doom

My writer's group met at Monterey Place Pizza in Geneva, Illinois, last night. Great pizza. Excellent service. Naturally we had to have a pizza-themed writing exercise, but instead, I selected one of Bill Price's ideas. He said any noun goes better if you put "of doom" after it. So the exercise was to write anything you wanted for three minutes, but you had to include "of doom" after the nouns. Pronouns were exempt. Writing about pizza was my idea. Others wrote about other things, mostly pizza...

The pizza of doom fell on the floor of doom next to the blond of doom. Helen of doom picked it up. “What’s this crap of doom?”

“It slipped out of my hand of doom,” Fred of doom replied.

“Watch where you put your hand of doom. You’ve been drinking too many beers of doom.”

“You are looking pretty good yourself, Helen of doom."

“So you want to get friendly or what?”

“The what of doom.”

Our Special Hideaway

We share a valley of pines in our hearts and minds. A deep, dark, slow river barely moves as we stroll past. There’s also a lake where the water is still and deep. Here, it is cool, and the pine needles are soft under our feet. Away from the river, where it’s drier, the moss grows in our special hideaway. It’s a room that we enter by crawling through a tunnel shaped by pine branches. The pine trees form the walls of our room and the pine boughs overhead make a ceiling. It’s big enough for the two of us to snuggle. In the hurried, crazy world we live in, I think of our gentle pine forest with you by my side and smile.

Toaster

Hoo, I’m hot now! Look at me. Yeah. You looking ugly, girl. Putting bread in me with your no coffee smile, morning breath and flannel jammies. What’s that in your hair? I got heating elements with better curl than that. Oh, I’m hot.

Wo, what’s that? Look out. Here I come. POP! Yeah, babe, that’s your toast on me. Don’t pick it up with those fingers. They been in your nose.

Gonna get quiet now. Yeah, babe. Cool. Chill.

White Room

Ethyl woke up in a white room, which was no surprise because Ralph, her husband, had spent the past three days painting over Justin’s deep purple. Justin was serving in Jerusalem undercover with the CIA.

The story goes that Justin was a pot head in high school, but she had never caught him with the weed. Ralph thought it was a case of teenage angst or so he claimed.

She ducked when the missile plowed through the window, shattering glass. Of course, the floor was no safer than the bed when the thing exploded, but you have to do something at a time like that.

She woke up in a white room. Bags of things were hanging everywhere and she could see the needles stuck in both arms. At least I still have eyes.

My Basement

Morina banged her head hard against something. She felt her forehead, and her hand came away wet. She wiped it on the something hard and decided it must be a rock.

“Of course it’s a rock.” The disembodied voice was a deep baritone.

“Who? What? You reading my mind?”

“Sorry. I forgot humans can’t see in the dark. Here.”

Morina blinked as a light snapped on. She was in a basement.

“My name is Egdad. Welcome to Berbain Castle.”

“Castle?”

“Also known as my basement.”

“So we’re like in the Bavarian Alps or what?”

“Or what is closer. Naperville, Illinois, to be precise.  How’d you get here anyway?”

“I… I… well, I remember falling into a sewer, but I was in Cleveland, Ohio.”

“Dragona Bertforth.”

“What?”

“No. Who. Dragona is… well, you might think of her as a witch but she’s more. Vampire witch perhaps. You earthers have such a limited imagination it’s hard to find a good analogy. Let’s throw in werewolf but take away the fur coat.”

Elbow on Formica

She leans on the small round table, chin propped in hand, elbow on Formica, in the Geneva Barnes and Noble. Her eyes are warm and she smiles like a lover but the subject of her affection is the little girl across the table. Mom’s tired eyes express her feelings in this look.

No wedding ring. Mom without Dad. Her coat is dark red with a green plaid lining peeking out of her hood. Upon her dark blond hair she sports a bright red velvet hat. Mom home from work.

In mid description, Mom takes off with the little girl, leaving undefined the natural beauty of her eyes, nose, sweet smile, soft chin, high cheek bones and a life lived day by day.

For New Writers

I recommend the following:
1. write
2. write
3. write

Read novels and some "how to" guides. Stephen King's "On Writing" is excellent. So is Anne Lamott”s "Bird by Bird." Join a local writer's group in your area because like all addictions, writing requires company.

Google is your friend so that when you hear terms like POV or character arc or talking heads -- just Google the term and you'll learn all sorts of stuff. For example, one of my critique partners told me I write in noir style. Well, I kinda sorta knew what noir film was about, but not really. You know, those dark, depressing B movies from the forties, right? Well, I Googled it to see what he was talking about and found a great article on Wikipedia that explained the whole thing in detail. Turns out my critique partner was right. Without studying noir, I had somehow developed that style -- probably from watching old movies. Now that I know what noir is and that it's the way I like to write, I'm better able to focus my writing in that direction. This allows me to write to my strengths.

There's more than enough to learn to fill a book. Hundreds of books in fact. Bet your local library has some books on writing that will help you in getting started.

About college: if you've never been, then try some writing courses at your local community college. The college experience is worth the investment plus you might just learn something while you're there. If you've been, you probably will do just as well saving your money and joining a writer's group. My writer's group has two English majors, a nuclear physicist, two technology geeks, two attorneys, a biology major who somehow ended up becoming a professional trade publication editor and now is a writer/editor by profession. So a writing or English background isn't necessary, but you do have to be willing to learn the craft.

And remember, it's fun so have fun. Otherwise, why do it?