2 part exercise

Exercise: Sides Part 1 (IMPORTANT NOTE :Complete part 1, before looking at part 2)

Set time for: 10 minutes

Remember a time when you had an argument with someone close to you. Now use that memory to write a scene in first person. (i.e. using “I, me, my”).


Hayley’s attempt: I bustled around our small apartment making sure my brother Davey and his girlfriend, were set up for the night. I feel guilty that all I have to offer them is my camping airmattress to sleep on, but they insist they don’t mind. I’m waiting in my pjs for the bathroom, as there is a bit of wait, when there’s four of us. Josh is in kitchen rustling around. He comes down the hall with his hand buried deep in a bag of Cheetos.
“What are you doing? It’s 2am.”
“I’m hungry,” he says with his mouth partley full. I’m mildly hurt. I always like to cook something fantastic or try new recipes when I have company, and I was impressed with how well my pork medallions and blackberry recipe had turned out. But Josh hadn’t finished his at dinner time. Was he just being polite, when he said he liked it? I guess it had been a few hours since our late supper. Ok he’s hungry. But then he turns to go into the bedroom.
I step infront of him.
“What are you doing?” I ask again.
“I want to sit down”
“Not in the bedroom, you’ll get crumbs in the bed.” My biggest pet peeve.
He laughs me off and continues towards the bedroom.
“Please don’t eat in there.” I say again, getting annoyed.
“I don’t want to go in the living room. I’m not gonna eat in there while they’re getting ready to go to bed in there.”
“But…I don’t want crumbs in the bed.” I hear myself and wonder why this sounds so familiar. Now I’ve got my hand on his chest, physically stopping him from entering the bedroom with the dreaded Cheetos.
“Fine.” He says and closes up the bag in an angry flourish of crumpling. He stomps to the kitchen to return the bag to it’s proper place.







Exercise: Sides Part 2

Set time for 10 minutes.

Now write the same scene, from the other persons perspective.


Hayley’s attempt: It had been a long but successful day. Two tattoos. One for my wife’s brother Davey, and one for his girlfriend Steph. They are great customers. They know exactly what they want, and sit pretty well for me. But I’d started late in the day on Stephs and when I was done, Hayley wanted to feed everyone. She spent a lot of time, making a full dinner, but I was too distracted planning Davey’s tattoo to fully enjoy it. I couldn’t eat much, because truth be told, I was a little nervous. When we finished his tattoo successfully, we celebrated by having a few drinks and playing a video game. By the time we were all starting to think about getting to bed it was 2 am! As our guests were using the bathroom, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. I found a bag of Cheetos in the pantry.
That will hit the spot. But man I was tired. I’ll just go sit down for a minute. But Hayley’s giving me this look like I’m about to commit a crime.
:What are you doing? I’m 2 am.” She says.
“I’m hungry.” I head to the bedroom, not wanting to eat in our guests “bedroom”, while they’re getting ready for bed. Hayley stops at the door.
“What are you doing?” She asks again.
“I want to sit down.”
“I don’t want crumbs in the bed.”
What. Does she think I’m a child. Does she think I’m going to dump the bag of cheetos on the bed. I just want a snack. She’s got her hand on my chest now, she’ s serious. But I’m tired and don’t take this well. I want to scream, I can do what ever I want to , but that will make me sound like the child she seems to think I am right now. I close up the bag, and put it back in the pantry. The five cheetos I ate in the hall did little to stop the grumbling in my stomach. I go to bed mad.

Exercise: Let the music move you

Set timer for : 10 minutes

Find a random song on the radio or on your MP3 player, preferably a song you don’t know, and listen for just a few seconds, just long enough to pick out the first line you hear. Use that line as your first line in a 10 minute free-write.

Hayley’s attempt:
Sometimes dreams just don’t come true. I never did get to see Paris or Rome. I never did become a dancer. I found love, but not my true love. My children and grandchildren come in and out of the room, leaving in a hurry, and forcing smiles. Not one of them know me, not really. Only one man ever knew me, and he died thirty years ago. And I never told him I loved him. I didn’t want to go like this. Not lying in a sterile bed, staring at sterile walls. I was supposed to die tragically while parasailing from the cliffs in Peru, or getting biten by a poisonous snake in the outback of Austrailia. Not here, in this horrible hick town. Why are they all here. I was supposed to raise children who wanted to see the world, who venture off to far way lands, sending postcards a couple times a year just to let me know they were alive. But none of them left. Not one. Even the grandkids have no hope of any adventure in their lives growing here, with this lot surrounding them. Well maybe one. Yes I think I’ve seen that look before, that twinkle in her young eyes, it looks so familiar. They look like his did, right before he told me he was leaving for Mongolia, on a trek acroos the Altai mountains. She saw me watching her. I wish I could remember her name…damn these drugs. Run angel, run and concore the world. See hope in each new place, and don’t look back. That’s what I wish someone had said to me. Did she hear me. Go child. Was that a smile? A knowling look? I wish I could go with you, but sometimes dreams just don’t come true.