Writers Workshop, Exercise one: writing about an object

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by beatnik poe, Aug 31, 2004.

  1. beatnik poe

    beatnik poe Veteran

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    I want anyone who wants to, to look around the room and tell a story or simply tell the story behind an object in the room and how it got there, describe it, what it does and extrapolate on whether it might think about what you are doing there, but what ever you do, focus centrally on the object, make it as long or short as you want, I will be here to critique and offer my own story as example.

    Have fun, stay imaginative!

    Poe
     
  2. beatnik poe

    beatnik poe Veteran

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    "Bag of chips."
    I watch a small crumb of a taco flavored chip flitter to the carpet and my cat quickly comes to snap it up like a shark after a warm trail of blood. Each finger of my hand is stained with the four cheese flavoring of addictive orange crack. I lick each digit clean removing the entire delicious flavor slowly and methodically hoping to savor the terminable essence of each molecule of flavor.

    My tounge senses the end of the jubilee and the denizens of taste buds that lay in quaint villages across my tounge rise up in a furious protest at the nigh end of the succulence and prosperity under the overwhelming onslaught of the perfectly manufactured taste of cheese. In alligned defiance to my full stomach my hand thrusts its way into the foil bag, a disasterous roar of hand crunching metal, fingers crsuhing floury pressed corn and the feint scraping as the powerful powerdery flavor embeds itself into the tiny rivulets of my fingerprints. As the chips reach the horizon of my teeth the town of Tounge looks out into their heavens and bears witness to the second coming and each abode weeps in joy at the sight for they never know if this may be the last time they bear witness of the gift from the heavens. Into the cool night they roll naked in the final rush of flavor knowing full well that soon it will all end in the great tidal wave of a morning mouthwash and the denizens of Tongue will once again be cleansed anew to be bore unto the fresh flavors of a dorito four cheese chip.
     
  3. jet convoy

    jet convoy Beast Wars Forever!!!

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    :lol 

    That was hilarious.

    Hopefully I can get to describe objects well enough but I doubt I'll sound as poetic as you.Thanks for the turotial.Hope to see more.
     
  4. Falcadore

    Falcadore Touring Car Autobot

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    A splash of red against a backdrop of dull dark brown, it drags the eyes. A red once bright but now dulled too, and coated with a liberal layer of dust. A tiny yellow badge on the front, a dancing black horse, a powerful symbol, harkening of ages past...

    A ribbon of tar stretched across a European landscape, engine screaming, supercharger swallowing the air, Italian pilot in cloth helmet and polo shirt, sitting unrestrained, bouncing across cobblestone corners reluctantly on tyres like bicycles...

    Sluicing through gouts of rain, slick slippery aerofoil shape, a streak of scarlet in the darkness, racing down the long never ending expanses of the Mulsanne, speedometre needle dancing crazily towards 200mph, French racer hunkered down posing the car for the cine-cameras with Hollywood watching in their waterproofs...

    Corner after corner of green hedges, high speed trial in the Formulae of One, white scoop thrusting skywards behind the Austrian's helmet, a moment gone wrong, spinning, bouncing, breaking, sparking, burning. T-shirted officials with extinguishers standing back and watching, hoping someone with protection can get to the driver...

    Focus, determination, the quiet rage of the righteously offended, mind living from corner to corner wrestling the car, fighting its every urge, squeezing every last drop from the screaming turbocharged six, cylinder dancing to crazy revolutions, and a slow car in the wrong place. A touch, a twitch, a tear, a tumble, the cry of whole nations in sudden anguish as Italy and Canada, two nations with nothing in common, now united in the tragedy of the fallen, of genuis no longer tied to the earth...

    A view of sharp angles, of squares of black aerofoils, of billion dollar machines with corporate aerodynamics, splitting the atmosphere with the precision of the surgeons scalpel, the strange but natural alliance of the Italiano mech and the Germanic direction, and a rectangle of black and white cloth, once dreamt of, once hoped for, now expected...

    Of sleek lines, sharp edged intakes, scarlet outlined in black, of tyres like rubber bands, polished aluminium wheels, black lined grills, tan hides and walnut panel, and the dust, ever the dust, of disuse, of time seen but not travelled

    And a badge that reads 'Ferrari'.
     
  5. beatnik poe

    beatnik poe Veteran

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    that was excellent! good use of differentiating vocabulary! You complicated and simplified a rather intricate object in the frame of an entire paragraph and made it feel intense to figure out what you were speaking of with a nice satisfying resoultion at the end!
     
  6. gruff

    gruff New Member

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    OK, here's one for you I just knocked up:

    Induced by a state of mesmorising hypnosis, I allow the quiet seduction of anticipation to captivate with the promise of a more revealing repertoire, compelling my desire for life to be breathed into the steady chants of wordless whisper. A state of imminency taps into my mind like the tapping of a foot, the drumming of a finger or the silent nod of affectionate empathy. The words that threatened to reveal themselves deep into my drums do so without the hint of eminence. Like a mysterious force capable of penetrating my very soul and stir my subliminal senses. Eyes see nothing yet remain unclosed. A rich taste and smell blooms with the satisfaction of my involuntary subscription to a secret cult. Fingers feel nothing, yet my inner emtions surface with the life of a predatory grasp. And all the while I remain alone in the room, hearing nothing but the words of a master so far removed from reality, I could be living in his own mind.

    Yet despite the prophecy of something bigger, something stronger, something harder, despite the promise of his power, his captivation, his coming, despite my expectance, my desire and my wisdom of experience, he surprises me with a purpose of purity, untouched even by the poetry of life itself. A smile and a drawn-out chant as a wave of raw emotion activates muscles I never knew I posessed, conducting my feelings as a rhythmic, articulate dance in the sky.

    But for all its euphoric artistry, for all its promise and intrigue, for all that I want this to last forever, my conscience feels the conclusion of this epic surmon draw near. In a breathtaking effort to beget the tempting fantasy of a life less ordinary exposed to me by his words, my defiant acts of contortion rise ever higher, my movement a parallel of his dying words. His chants die, as do my own, my tiring arms returning reluctantly to my side as the whispers hush. But for all the pain of the end, so it breathes life once more. A new track, a new song; and my stereo and headphones take me to another new world as surmon begins anew.
     
  7. SkyfireMike

    SkyfireMike Cybertron's Chief BOFH

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    Ebay:
    Remember me?

    I'm still here. I'm standing here, perfectly posed, just like you wanted me to. But when was the last time you wanted me to do anything?

    It's been so long, I can hardly remember the time. But I still remember. I remember when you first got me. You had waited for me for years upon years, ever since you first saw me. When you finally got me, you were overjoyed. Money was no object - you would have paid any price to finally get your hands on me.

    You played with me for a good long time. I was moved around, toyed with, changed around so many times I lost track. You were frustrated with me, but when you figured me out, you were so happy. I was everything you expected of me and more.

    This makes my current situation even more difficult to take. You eventually forgot about me. I stood by, waiting for you, but the days became weeks, which became months. I patiently kept still, and the waiting turned into hope, which turned into despair when I realized you didn't want me anymore. The only time you paid me any attention was when I faltered and fell. You sighed, picked me up, and put me back where I was before. My pride was more damaged than my parts were, as helter skelter was they were as a result of my impact with your cold floor.

    It became hard for me to see - the dust that accumulated on me, and others like me, was too much to bear. But I could live with that - I knew this was my eventual fate. I just didn't think it would take so long.

    But no, the ultimate affront to me, the ultimate *insult* was HIM. You found him just a few weeks ago, for a lower price than I was. You were waiting for HIM. He was no different than I, save for a coloration difference. He was a different color than I was. His small accompanying toy was an uglier color than mine was... I don't even remember what happened to mine. You played with him once too often and it disappeared. He was my only companion, resting upon me and keeping me company.

    You kept HIM in a box until you were ready to unleash him. I knew he was there. I could sense his presence... and then, you opened the box, and let him free. You finally placed me in a new location... and you mocked me by placing him just across from me, in the same position I was in. And then you put his companion with *me*, just because you thought he looked better without it!

    I don't understand. We're the same.. in fact, I dare say I'm better. He may be a different color, a newer model, but I'm the *correct* color, the *correct* model! I am what I am, and what I should be. Pose me, do I not move? Push my button, do my eyes not glow?

    The irony is that he will suffer the same fate as I and others before me have, and others after us both will. They will stay up here until you decide, some day, to fiddle with them again. Just like I've waited. Just like he'll wait.

    But every once in a while, I see you look at me. Maybe you read something about me. Maybe you saw me on television again. And you'll look at the two of us, and realize which of us matters.

    I am Unicron.
     
  8. Infosaur

    Infosaur Well-Known Member

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    *Blink*

    *blink blink*

    *blink*

    *blink blink*

    I say nothing.

    *blink blink*

    *blink blink blink*

    An innocouous box, not much larger than your hand.

    *blink*

    Plastic, silent, unmoving.

    *blink blink*

    Save for a mere light, verdant in color, I would be completely ignored.

    *blink*

    Not a steady light. No, for that would quickly fade into the background of sumbconcious fog, ignored.

    *blink blink blink*

    It is because of my unpredictable random blinking that you are aware of me at all.

    *blink*

    But my purpose runs deeper than that.

    *blink blink*

    *blink*

    I am the gateway to untold worlds. Limitless knowledge is at my disposal. I am the Louvre, the Guggenheim, Cooperstown, the New York Times, all and neither at the same time. At my best I am a becon of hope in times of crisis, a lifeline beween distant families. At my worst I am the predator under your roof, doing unspeakable things to your life and lively hood.

    *blink blink*

    I am a comic, an annoyance, a friend, a chore, a long lost lover, an annoying boss, a meddlesome aunt, an annoying commercial.

    *blink*

    I am your modem, hear me *blink*!
     

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