Free Writing

Free Writing

One of my favorite writing exercises is free writing. It’s a great way to break through writer’s block. At first, it is hard to grasp but once it takes hold, wonderful things will spill out from the tips of your fingers. Give it a try. It will surprise you.

How to free write

Sit somewhere, anywhere and let your mind wander. Release each cell of your body so it can roam, touch, feel and experience with your mind following close behind. Each thought, sound, and smell becomes a new discovery. It’s similar to meditation but instead of looking for inner peace, you are exploring your environment.

Below is a free write I did while sitting at the kitchen table one night. I transformed it into the beginning of a short story and a poem.

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Lizette’s Free Write at the Kitchen Table

Sitting on a chair at the kitchen table, I watch and listen. Stillness. No, that is not true. There is movement. The clock pendulum swings back and forth. Tick, tick, tick with each arc.

The air doesn’t stir. Stuffy and stagnate. A whiff of toast lingers and reaches my nostrils. It invokes memories of my toasted tomato sandwich I had for dinner.

Humming from the refrigerator is low and constant. A cacophony of night sounds drifts in from an open window. Chirping, trilling, and clicks. Tires rolling over the road pavement from a passing  car.

The lighting is low, only the light over the sink is on. I need to vacuum the floor. I need to wipe the counters.

I focus on the clock, it draws me. The rhythmic movement is soothing and hypnotizing. I feel somewhat anxious and at peace at the same time. My mind is combing through the list of things I need to do tomorrow but the ticking of the clock draws me back.

The Intruder

By Lizette Strait

Sitting at the kitchen table, I watched and listened. Stillness. The light over the sink cast shadows throughout the dimly lit room. De Ja Vu swept over me as the day’s events flooded my mind.

I focused on the mantle clock. Tick, tick, tick.  The rhythmic movement was soothing and hypnotizing. I felt anxious and at peace at the same time. How odd.

The rustle of clothing drew me away from my thoughts. I looked down at the man lying on the floor and watched him stir. It surprised me he stayed unconscious this long. I didn’t hit him that hard, did I?

 

The Kitchen

By Lizette Strait

 

Sitting at the kitchen table,

I watch and listen

Stillness

 

No, that is not true

There is movement

Tick, tick, tick

 

Time slips by

You are not here

Where did you go?

 

The air doesn’t stir

A whiff of toast lingers

Memories

 

Your toasted tomato sandwiches

The taste of summer

Tick, tick, tick

 

The refrigerator hums

low and constant

Why did you leave?

 

Night drifts through an open window

A cacophony of sounds

Chirps, trills, clicks

Past the house, tires fly over pavement

Waiting for you to come back

Tick, tick, tick

 

The clock draws me

Rhythmic, soothing, hypnotizing

Anxious yet at peace at the same time

waiting for you

What to Write….Plot Ideas & Characters…

I love fiction. Paranormal, sci-fi and fantasy stories are my favorite. Stepping into another world, to experience a tale through the eyes of the protagonist will take me away even if it’s for a few hours.

Where do writers come up with their ideas? For me as a writer, it’s easy for an idea to cross my mind, but to get it down on paper is another thing. However, that’s only half the battle. What’s just as difficult is to come up with plot twists, characters, and congealing it into a story someone wants to read.

One way I find ideas is to use generators. Scifiideas.com is a great site for writers and has a brilliant generator,

http://www.scifiideas.com/story-idea-generator/

The ideas will be a sentence or two but it’s enough to nudge you in the right direction. Some of the ideas are strange and bizarre but to find something new, you need to reach out to the obscure.

Another way I get ideas is from everyday life. People watching is one of my favorite past times. It’s amazing the drama playing out right in front of you. All you have to do is be observant and listen. The stories of ordinary lives with a little twist and dark shading can be the next best seller.

Characters too. Everyone has a friend or relative that needs their story told. Even the person on the street has something lurking in the dark corners of their mind. I was sitting in Starbucks waiting for a friend and a little old man walked in. He was short, probably in his eighties using a cane. After getting a cup of coffee, he sat across from me and pulled out a tablet. His smiles and laughter were priceless as he read whatever was on the screen. I would have loved to go over and talked to him but I thought it would have been intrusive. There was a special gleam in his eyes that lit up his face. This man had a story.saipan-703463_1280 (2)

I can imagine him a sailor in WWII. Fighting on a PT boat in the South Pacific was tough and one night on patrol, he and a few others were marooned on an island. At one point the men thought all was lost. What they did to survive is to be revealed by the last survivor, the little old man.

So the next time you read a story, take a moment and think what the author had to do to get the book in your hands. You will be amazed how authors come up with their ideas.

Pink Sneakers in Space

Pink Sneakers in Space

The Death of a Beautiful Woman

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I fell in love with Edgar Allan Poe in high school. We had to read something by him so I chose the poem, Annabel Lee. Afterwards, there was no turning back. There is something beautiful and hypnotic about his writing that will transcend you to a higher place. Maybe this is why I love to listen to crashing waves.

Poe’s quote, “The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world,” reinforces my love for Annabel Lee. What is your favorite EAP poem?

http://www.jkcandlen.com

Annabel Lee

By Edgar Allan Poe

(Published 1849)

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of ANNABEL LEE;–

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

She was a child and I was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love–

I and my Annabel Lee–

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud by night

Chilling my Annabel Lee;

So that her high-born kinsman came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me:–

Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of a cloud, chilling

And killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we–

Of many far wiser than we-

And neither the angels in Heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:–

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea–

In her tomb by the side of the sea.

Bewitched by JK Candlen – Weekend Writing Warriors #17 May 17, 2015

It’s the weekend and here is the next snippet from my story, Bewitched. Enjoy?

 Manipulation1

She looked up and glared at him. Her mind worked furiously on a story but couldn’t come up with anything. Which one had she already told him? Carol couldn’t remember. There were so many that the manipulations were getting mottled in her mind. Sometimes even she couldn’t tell what was true and what was fiction.

“I don’t have it,” was all Carol could come up with.

 

If you want more of a good read, check out my fellow Weekend Writing Warriors. They are just a click away.

Bewitched by JK Candlen – Weekend Writing Warriors #16 May 3, 2015

Here are the next 8 sentences of my story, Bewitched. I hope you enjoy it. And don’t forget to check out my fellow Weekend Writing Warriors. A good read is only a click away.

 staring-eyes

“Did you bring it?” the raspy voice said from behind.

Carol turned to face the man and studied the slitty eyes peering from behind the ski mask. So the bastard came. His expression was detached, it wasn’t what she wanted to see. He won’t be fooled, not this time. But she needed what he had and would tell him anything to get it.

She glanced down at her sneakers again. God help her, the smudge was still there.

Zinfindel

       wine

“Hey, you won’t believe what just walked in,” Donna said as she leaned to the left to get a better view.

“Oh, you mean Ares Stoner?” Bev said nonchalantly.

“Isn’t he the new police chief?” Val asked standing up looking above the crowd toward the front door.

“Yes he is. And rumor has it, he’s Iris’s Boo.” Lauren piped in. She picked up a menu and hid behind it to avoid Iris’s disparaging look.

All eyes turned to Iris. The woman, who proclaimed herself single for life, now had the most wanted man in town chasing after her.

“Tell us everything, Iris, especially the sexy parts. Don’t leave anything out.” Lauren looked over her menu and wiggled her brows.

“There’s nothing to tell, he’s a friend of Rick’s,” Iris said. Bev rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Iris shifted her weight from one side of the chair to the other. She was feeling uncomfortable the way the girls were grilling her and the looks Ares was sending, didn’t help. Where was the uneasiness coming from? Iris never had a problem dealing with unwanted interests from a man before. Maybe that’s what made her feel so odd. She didn’t consider them unwanted coming from Ares.

Damn the potion. If it wasn’t for Bev’s meddling, she would have gone out with him. Iris couldn’t determine if Ares’s interest was true or lingering effects. Aunt Alice said it wasn’t a love potion and Zelda agreed. So what was it?

“Ladies, compliments of Chief Stoner,” Tobie said as he placed the open bottle of Zinfandel and glasses on the table. All the girls turned to look at Ares. He lifted his beer in a toast.

“So, there’s nothing to tell,” Val said picking up the bottle and started to pour.

“He’s just being nice. So, who wants to play darts?” Iris stood up trying to change the subject.

When and Where to Write

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Many writers have rituals for their writing. Some choose to wait for the right time but at least for me, if I waited for the stars to align, I would never put down a word. It can be hard to get the creative juices flowing and I found the best way is to just sit down and start. I may not have anything in mind, but once in front of the keyboard, I tap.

An easier choice is where to write. My favorite spots to spin tales are on the front porch, in the back yard, or sitting in a coffee shop. I love sipping a cup of something hot and people watch. There is so much material out there, like listening to conversations or what people are wearing.

The main character in my story, Bewitched, started to take shape on a trip back from California when I traveled by train. I sat in the observation car where I watched my train mates and came across a woman who was my protagonist. She dressed and acted the way I imagined Iris would.

So next time you find yourself being observed by someone behind a laptop, watch out, you may find yourself in a story where murder and mayhem swirls about.