If you have missed part one of the Writer's Workshop posts I have published, please click here.
As we sat in the writing workshop, about 30 of us in attendance, we were asked to consider a tree. Would it be the one we climbed in as a child? The one we planted from a seed in our yards decades ago and have watched grow and bloom year after year? The one outside our freshman dormitory with the collection of bird nests we loved to count?
Mrs. Lee Zacharias, our day's instructor, painted us a picture in our mind's eye. As she did so, she asked that we take a piece of paper from our legal pads and prepare to write. Our assignment: consider one of two words and write a paragraph concerning it. Our word options? Here. And, There.
As I glanced at my two word options, my pen in hand and Thatcher perched on my lap, the word here seemed my superior choice.
I began to write:
She holds me firmly in her lap and here I affirm her great love of me with each noise I make. A cough. A sigh. A long, loud, grunt. I have been in these arms every day of my life and know them well. Their smell, their strength. My fingers, recently discovered, find my mouth once again and as they meet I smile to myself. I am loved. I am love. And here, in this moment, I return that love to the arms and the ears of she who holds me.
Many were asked to share their writing and I wanted to, oh, I wanted to! Honest feedback, hopes of awes and a pats on the back. But many hoped for the same and, because God's grace is alive in me, I extended them that time.
In Writer's Workshop, Part 1, I mentioned how we ought, as writers, to engage the senses. The following is how I took that to writing:
She holds me firmly in her lap and here I affirm her great love of me with each gentle noise I make. A cough. A sigh. A long, loud, grunt. I have been in these two arms every day of my short life and I know these two arms well. Their faint smell of peppermint soap, their strength from having had held two sons before me. Brothers. My short, little fingers, recently discovered, find my mouth, wet with dripping saliva, and as they meet I smile my toothless smile to myself. I am loved. I am love. And here, in this mid-morning moment, I return that love to the arms and the ears of she who holds me firmly.
Can you see the difference? Yes, there are more words in the latter paragraph, but do they paint a more visual picture for you? Do they evoke your senses and force you to feel the arms holding the toothless, noisy, baby? Can you see this, as a witness, a participant in the workshop, as in clear view? Can you smell the peppermint soap, faint as it is, or feel the weight of this young baby in your own arms?
Can you recognize yourself in the story?
This is my take away.
Do you enjoy writing as much as I do? If you have not ever attended a writer's workshop of your own, does this offer you any suggestion? And assistance or motivation?
I would love you feedback!
Please look for Writer's Workshop, Part 3 in which I share the story of that day from another aspect and share with you some sage wisdom ;)
-always!,
Writer's Workshop, Part 3
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