Creative Writing Writing Exercise (Description)

Something we did in my Creative Writing class last year that actually helped quite a bit with some of my writing. Pick an item, any item, it can be anything, anything at all and just spend as long as you can describing it, describe every little detail. (In class, mine was a nine-volt battery, heh. That was pretty interesting). Anyways, from what my teacher said, this is supposed to teach you to focus on other details of certain objects and to help describe things outside of the obvious and such. Or some crap like that, I didn't pay attention to that much. Anyways... yeah, knock yourselves out.

 

You want that subjective, objective, or both?
In school I had to describe an outdoor scene subjectively, without using any objective comments at all. This meant that I couldn't even describe the trees as having green leaves. I also had to write an entirely objective description of a ball point pen. That wasn't too hard, but I couldn't use words like "thin" or "long".

 

We could write anything. For the battery I wrote comparitively how it looked like (and at one point I wrote a description for a pen that someone thought was describing a gun... don't ask me). As for describing people, we kinda learned to describe people in different ways than physical which was cool. Example; in Chuck Palahniuk's book "Lullaby", he describes his boss and co-workers and such with a phrase, that I think goes, "the kind of guy who's computer password is password". Anyways, do it however you want and set your own limits. That's how we did it in class. (And if there were rules I guess I must've fell asleep during those )

 

What say we make this a little sporting? Let's have everyone willing describe the same object.

 

like what object? and who will provide the topic? i am like game !

 

Okay, here's something.

http://store4.yimg.com/I/swblades_1750_10560921

Only have to describe the katana, don't have to do the other items if you don't want, up to you. I don't have a description yet today, may or may not soon depending on if my headache goes away.

 

Since so many ppl are game why hasn't it started?

I decided to do the first sword or Katana. Whatever one it is. I was puzzled by the fact that those two long swords could be the same or maybe not. Anyways I did the one with the blade pointing up. I kind of did a description. Probably something you weren't looking for Zack but I don't care. I like to be different.

Controlled. I am an object of pain. I never decided what I get to do. I may sit on display. My cold blade shown to the world as a commodity. My eagle handle marveled at for its' craftsmanship. But the fact remains I was designed as a weapon. My steel blade is used for cutting flesh. Piercing the skin with my point. The blood draining from someone I didn't know. Staining me with their vital liquid. I get to witness their last breathe. I don't get to cry for what I have done. I have no eyes to weep for my sorrow of their loss. Would I still cry if I had eyes? I would not know for I am just an object of pain.

 

How about people describe it and someone has to guess what it is? Like a "what am I" game?


I burn as I slide down, clear, but not quite pure. A steady stream of liquid heat. I can have any effect. I can make you happy. I can make you sad. I can make you mad. I make your vision blur, your stomach lurch, your step unsteady. Bye bye lunch.

*remembers last friday night*

 

OK letme think

Upon this day hundred years ago I slew a thousand men. Passed from hand to hand from allie to enemy. I became a part of that person and when they were slain I was simply passed on. In the flurry of battle I was covered in blood. My once prideful and beautiful gold was turned red. I slew the enemy and I slew the friend never to know which side I was on. I took a life in order to save the life of the one's hand I was in. Yet then I was passed to the slayers hand and used to protect them. The only thing within me was my blood in which I have cried out until it too dyed what was left of my gold red. I cried because of what the other half of me the sword did. There is nothing left of what I am, not even my own blood remains. The people I saved are slain or dead. The kingdom I once protected and attacked is gone. All that is left is the faces on the other side of the glass that remind me so much of what I protected and what I was trying to destroy. All I have is their and my blood over my golden feathers that will never wash from my hands until the day I rust away.

 

I am not sure if this is exactly what you were looking for but I will give it a shot anyways. Not my best work, but not bad for having only 30 minutes to finish it.

The faces I see upon the case I now rest in are a reflection of my history...my past. What I had been was considered an honor, but in turth I was a disgrace. I shame myself for the blood shed by my blade, blood of enemies, blood of allies, but the guilt I feel is not for the former or the latter. It is for the faceless innocents I was responsible for. My soul shattered as I watched my master take pleasure in the death of those who could not protect themselves. I watched as he cut down the very people we were supposed to protect, and I watched with grim satisfaction when a shadow assassin took his life. I was taken to the assassin's leader as a symbol of victory, a trophey won in battle to be shown off like some cheap mantle ornament. It sickens me this life I lead locked in one prison only to be freed and shoved into another.
I envy the life shown in the eyes of these onlookers. They can end their suffering and pain, destroy it in one moment. While I am forced to continue this life locked in hatred, regret and remorse. The immortality of an inanimate object is truly a curse.

Bah, its crap I know...but I am kinda brain dead right now from lack of sleep. So you'll have to forgive me.