Writing Exercise: Who's Calling, Please?

We took another prompt from The Five Minute Writer by Margaret Geraghty. This one is "Who's Calling, Please?" and focuses on writing dialogue. Out of many different options available, I chose the prompt "The phone rings and it's a voice from the past. Who is calling and why? Write in dialogue." Here's my dialogue.

"Hello, this is James."
"Haha! I get you didn't expect to hear from me again!"
"No, I didn't...it's been a long time..."
"Not so long, or have you been too busy?"
"No, it's just...been a long day. And hardly anybody calls the home number any more."
"Yeah, I ran across your number while I was cleaning up the kitchen. You got filed in the recipe box instead of the address book."
"That can happen, I guess...so what's up?"
"Things are quiet here, plenty of time on my hands. I was going to make our favorite dinner and saw your number, and couldn't resist calling."
"Ah, Scarlett, yeah, you always did make a great lasagna."
"Wait, you didn't know who it was..."
"It took a second to click in, but I'm here..."
"I can't believe you didn't recognize me after all our time together."
"We were together for a while, but it's been a while too."
"Not so long that you'd forget."
"Hmmm...yeah."
"Did you want to forget? Is that why you haven't called in over a month? I mean, I lost your number, but surely you didn't lose mine?"
"No, no, it's just things changed between us. I thought you didn't want me around any more."
"But why would I call now? It was just a little fight, over such a small thing."
"You seemed pretty serious about it. And maybe you were right, it was a bad choice for a Valentine's dinner."
"It was a bad choice for me. You know how I get seasick, so a dinner cruise was not a good surprise for the most romantic night of the year."
"Hmmm...yeah...I'm sorry about that."
"Finally. I forgive you; do you want to come over for some lasagna?"

Writing Exercise: It's in the Bag

In our writing group, we used this exercise from The Five-Minute Writer by Margaret Geraghty, p. 122:

Imagine you've found someone's bag, briefcase, purse, or other smallish container. You don't know who its owner is but you decide to find out by being nosey. You open the bag and pull out the contents. Without thinking too hard, list at least six items. Don't just go for the obvious mobile phone and tissues, although you can of course include these, too.

Now write a short character sketch based on the items you've discovered.

Here is my list of time:

1. Calculator--solar powered
2. Handgun
3. Crayons
4. Lipstick
5. Pencil-used golf pencil (no eraser)
6. Receipts--grocery store, Target

Here's what I wrote:

Mandy's job had changed a lot about her life. She had been free-lancing as a nanny for a few years but never found any long-term gigs. She was a little bit too tall and too shapely and too pretty for recent mothers to feel comfortable. The contrast between the young, striking nanny and the sleep-deprived mom once drew a comment from a clueless dad and then drew a pink slip from the mom. Some parents were more understanding or cared less, but Mandy's thoroughness left a bad taste in their mouths. She'd really needed an employer with more confidence, more security, more chutzpah to get a long-term job.

Mandy was somehow both direct and sly. She could read a situation quickly and react with precision if not always gracefully. Her actions were tougher than her looks. She finally found a stable job when started nannying for the mafia.

She liked to keep track of things; she'd taken notes on store receipts of what was hers and what was the family's. She'd even divide out the taxes to make sure everything was above board. She'd have been a great asset to the Don but her first job with the mob was nannying for one of the mid-level guys (she never used the word "lieutenants" but she often thought it). Her situation was especially tricky since she was nanny for his mistress's child. Mandy was kept on the fringe of the "family" business--only meeting the business associates, not the rest of the "family."

She wasn't so worried about it. He'd been good to her, to his mistress, and to his wife. He was looking out for a lot of things, which meant trouble could come in any direction. So he'd asked Mandy to carry a gun, just in case. She was smart enough not to say no to him, but kept the gun empty. It was just for show, hopefully never really to be seen. Like the mistress, and therefore like Mandy.

The mafia, unlike her regular jobs, was a place Mandy could go far if she was noticed.

I felt as I was writing that the situation is pretty ridiculous but people in the group commented that it seemed realistic. The idea is intriguing to me.

Writing Exercise: One Minute, One Sentence

My writing group had an exercise from The Five Minute Writer by Margret Geraghty. The exercise says, ""Take one minute to write a single sentence. Don't think too hard and don't worry if it doesn't make sense." Some ideas are provided in the book:

• "Write a sentence about an animal.
• Write a sentence about an inanimate object.
• Write a sentence beginning with a name.
• Write a sentence about the weather."
• etc.

We took ten minutes to write a few sentences based on the ideas in the list that inspired us. I came up with a few odd balls.

• Walter was worried about the weather for it had changed too many times in the space of a minute.
• The table was waiting patiently for the meal to come to it.
• I embrace death as a solution to my problems; not my death, of course.
• Water moves with a grace unfathomable to the casual observer.
• She left on a six-foot journey...six feet down.
• The summer never really comes to Yorkshire.
• The chicken didn't cross the road since it couldn't think of a punch line.

Our next step (which is something beyond the book exercise) was to expand a sentence into a couple of paragraphs. Naturally, I chose the chicken sentence.

The chicken didn't cross the road since it couldn't think of a punch line. "How am I going to get across this road?" he thought angrily to himself. The world is so unfair. He had been happy in his old world, where he couldn't think, he was just a normal chicken living a hum-drum barn life. Sure, he'd eventually get served as a Sunday dinner but he wouldn't ever have known so it wouldn't bother him. Being able to reason isn't all it's cracked up to be.

The other problem was the existence of all these strange, unpredictable, and unfathomable rules in this world. Where's the benefit of having brains when everything is chaotic? Take this road for example. It's a toll road but the toll is to tell a joke. Who made up that rule? There might be plenty of stories about chickens but when has a chicken ever told one? Let alone a funny one.

He could just turn back, but that would mean going back to the barn and today was Saturday. Not a good prospect with the farmer's wife having that sparkle in her eye every time she saw him. That would not be a funny story.

We ran out of time and I ran out of inspiration simultaneously, so that's the end of the story. For now...