Fun with words (Pt. 2): A 3 Piece Suite
Sad news (but another glimpse of what I *did* do some Sunday mornings.)
The writing group I attend fortnightly on Sunday mornings in a local coffee shop is sadly no more. The always enthusiastic organiser has literally moved on, now living too far away for face-to-face meetings. I will miss them. It was a stress-free introduction for many ‘author-curious’ and I was grateful for the opportunity to receive naive critiques on my second book’s scenes, especially from a younger adult audience.
Reading aloud and receiving feedback on your writing are both an essential part of honing your craft. Critiquing is a valuable skill, no matter what or whose material you apply it to, and I admire those who do it well. Another local writing group I’m part of consistently demonstrates best practice in this art, their convivial excellence –and the medieval pub venue – making it a monthly highlight.
To conclude this week’s missive with some creativity, below is the second tranche (#5-7) of my responses to three warm-up exercises, as originally prompted by an already sorely missed organiser.
I hope you enjoy them.
JR
P.S. Here’s a link to the previous flash pieces in Part 1 (#1-4):
#5 – “The Calm Society”
(16th Apr 2023)
Setting: Anywhere
Prompt: A small bottle of ‘Calm Society’ oil (picked from a selection of physical objects).
Tom walked quicker, hoping no-one would notice his change of pace. It won’t do.
Jane wanted to argue about the cost of their new car, but the neighbours might hear. It won’t do.
Their son, Johnny, stubbed his toe and said a rude word. A policeman heard and he was never seen again. That had to be done.
Our Calm Society is a happy society. An inclusive society. A non-judgemental society. It’s what we do.
Promoting emotional trauma, disharmony and discontent is what we won’t do.
We’d happily go to war with anyone telling us otherwise.
(97 words)
#6 – 'I was so cute. What happened?'
(14th May 2023)
Setting: n/a
Prompt: ‘Pick a suitable recent message from your phone’.
My girlfriend had always said ‘cute was what remained on the inside’ – just before she left. The accident hadn’t helped. They’d done their best, but my face still resembled a child squishing theirs against a window.
It proved difficult letting someone in to find that kind of cute, especially as a cure. You needed someone to recognise it, then drag it into the daylight. No-one I knew could do it, even if I wanted them to, and I wouldn’t find anyone by sitting for days in my room.
But it wasn’t easy meeting my public again. They’d known me for what I was, what I’d pretended to be. Now I had to pretend to be normal. To explain that ‘normal’ was a broad church. That normal doesn’t matter when it comes to being cute.
(134 words)
#7 – ‘Excuse Me’
(26th Jan 2023)
Setting: Aboard an aeroplane.
Prompt: “Excuse Me”.
“Excuse me, but shouldn’t you be sitting at the front?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, the cap and the jacket are a bit of a giveaway.”
“Ahh. You think I’m the pilot?”
“Well, yes. I’m assuming those sleeve stripes count for something!”
“But I’ve only got three stripes.”
“Sorry, I don’t understand.”
“I’m the co-pilot. I’m one short from being a captain.”
“Ah, but shouldn’t you still be – y’know – helping them out, doing your co-pilot stuff?”
“They’ve said they don’t need any help. Weather’s clear, straight-forward flight plan. No fussing needed.”
“Oh. I suppose it is easier these days, with all that new wizardry and what-not.”
“Far too easy, just sitting here and passing the time of day. But I assure you I’m still keeping an ear out – just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Well, occasionally they suffer a minor glitch.”
“Glitch?”
“Nothing’s perfect.”
“But the pilot, don’t—”
“The pilot?”
“The man with four stripes.”
“Man?”
“Well, woman then. Whatever. They’ll take over, surely?”
“They already have, I’m afraid. Best left to the experts, eh?”
(178 words)