To my fellow writers…

Without Boundaries

Yesterday, my sister and I started a writing challenge and I forgot to tell you. Sorry! We are writing about something for 5 minutes, then 10 minutes, then 90 seconds, provided by a book titled “Songwriting Without Boundaries” by Pat Pattison. Go to the library or click the title to buy the book from Amazon to join us! The book consists of four challenges each one 14 days long. The first challenge is Object Writing. I plan on posting the results. 😀

Here are the first two paragraphs of the Introduction to “Songwriting Without Boundaries”:

This is a book on writing. And it is a book for writing. For writers of all kinds: songwriters, poets, playwrights, novelists, bloggers; anyone who loves the taste of words. It challenges you to take a journey into yourself to discover not only what you have to say, but also to discover an authentic voice to say it with.

Finding your voice as a writer is a lot like finding your voice as a singer. If you can carry a tune, you can learn to do it better. You can find, by exploration, where your voice feels strongest, where it feels the most like you. You try different styles, different timbres, different approaches and, slowly for some, more quickly for others, the real you emerges. The feeling you get when you hit that bulls-eye is like no other feeling. You’re incredibly alive and centered, like you’ve pushed your roots deep into the earth’s core. But committing to a journey to find that unique voice takes work; it takes practice.

Pat’s website is:

Below is what I wrote yesterday and today for the first challenge.

Day 1: “What” Writing

5 minutes: Sky
The sky can be whatever it pleases- serene and peaceful or hazardous and terrifying. It all depends on whether or not nature has a score to settle. The wind will whistle or howl; the sky will either be blue or grey. People will either be relieved by the cool summer breeze or slammed by a harsh tornado. Blue, grey to possibly black, a storm wrecks, pillages, plunders, destroys and desolates. Then, nothing. No sound.

10 minutes: Crash
BOOM! CRACK! Nothing. The smoke settles, people stop gasping and screaming out of fear and instead out of concern. There are children crying, not understanding the commotion. Out of one car, blood pours while they scrape themselves off their seat and out of the car. The other has no sound. Not until someone notices no one is in it. There is a plank of wood on the gas pedal. It broke upon impact. This was planned. This was deliberate. It was successful. The man dies before the ambulance arrives. The bystanders scatter one by one until all that is left are the investigators and crash reconstructors, not that it really needs reconstructing. We know what happened; why is the better question. Did this man have it coming or was this a random incident? Did this man get in the way of the true target or was he the target for whatever reason? Why be obvious about it? Granted, using a wood plank allows the offender to slip away, but now they must be on the run if they are connected to the dead man. Unless

90 seconds: Lily Pad
Nothing really comes to mind as I think of a lily pad. I don’t recall ever seeing one before. Are they green and big or can they be small? Are they even green at all? What shape are they? How do they feel?

Day 2: “What” Writing

5 minutes: Bathroom Mirror
The bathroom mirror is a reflection of the room, an exact replica. You can see behind you, to the left of you, the right of you just by looking up. You’ll never miss a beat. You’ll never miss a sound as you look round and round. As you watch what you see, how happy you could be. Unless it’s first thing in the morning before the sun has touched sky. Before light has even hit your eye. You might not want to see what is in your mirror. You might not like what you find. It could mess with your mind. But the mirror doesn’t judge, doesn’t see. The mirror just lets you be. Be your best, be your worst. The mirror is your friend.

10 minutes: Dentist
The cloth seat sticks to legs as they want to be seen. There are things to read, a television to watch and some dazzling artwork on the walls. None consoles the heart of one that has a cavity and knows it. They couldn’t eat on that side of their mouth for days and endured it for fear of the needle. Can’t stand the disappointed looks or the lectures. They hear the click of the door opening and jump. They shrivel when their name is called. The internal bellow is unbearable. Nothing is audible as they cross the threshold. Hardly anything is visible as they take their seat. The light is blinding for a few blinks of an eye. Palms are sweaty and clammy as they are laid pack, paper wrapped around their neck and clipped. Breathing through their open mouths is painful, but necessary. The dentist takes a metal hook and mirror so as to have a look. He picks at the tooth and pulls something away. The dentist’s eyes are clear as day. As much as they want to take a look, they close their eyes and wait for the verbal noose.

90 seconds: Screwdriver
The metal is heavy, to be expected in a child’s hands. He gives it to his mother as he watches her fix the thing in the sand. She takes the tool and

Tomorrows entries will get their own post.