10 Minute Object Writing Exercise #3

Object: Suitcase

I can hear the latch popping open now. The suitcase hits the top of the bed open and ready for business. I stuff it with everything I need to escape my everyday world for a few days or maybe a month or perhaps a year. I don't know how long this trip will be this time. All that matters is that it's with me when I take off into the unknown. Always there, always familiar. I trust it to have what I need every time it's opened, so I guard it with my life. If it were to disappear I'll be losing everything I need to survive. Clothes, toiletries and pictures from my past. It doesn't complain where it's going or for how long, because it's married to my adventures.

10 Minute Object Writing Exercise #2

Object: Heart

The heart in such a fragile thing. It can feel gut wrenching pain and the kind of joy that makes me float in the air. But really it's just an organ that pumps blood throughout my body. I can actually feel it in action sometimes. All I have to do is lay my hand over my chest and it's there reminding me that I'm still going. I still have life inside of me. Boom boom, boom boom. It beats faster and faster during a hard workout and when anxiety kicks in. It's like a little machine reacting to everything going on in my life. It's calm when I'm calm, it's stressed when I'm stressed. I'm supposed to take care of it with a good diet and a healthy mind, but for some reason my heart that gives me life is often forgotten.

10 Minute Object Writing Exercise #1

Last night I started reading, Writing Better Lyrics by Pat Pattison to become a better writer. One of the exercises from the book is to write for 10 minutes about any object using all five senses to describe the object. I have been trying to figure out a way to be more vulnerable on my blog so I am going to start posting my writing samples. This makes me very uncomfortable to publish writing that is extremely raw so bare with me while I begin, I've never tried this before.

Object: Guitar

My golden guitar hangs somberly on the wall as if it hasn't been played in years. Signs of common house dust cling to it's soft round edges and under the steel strings. A sweaty ball cap hangs over the headstock like it's a hat rack. I'm not going to move it so it might as well stay for a while. If I were to pick it up I'd have to tune the strings and stretch my stiff fingers because they haven't played since I can remember. I can hear the music now, rough fingerpicking thumbing through chords to get back where I was three years ago. I want to make music a priority but there's always something else in the way. If I just made that hard decision to practice I wouldn't be wondering so anxiously about it early in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and maybe that would influence my decision to play. Wouldn't want to wake the neighbors, we're like a bunch of matches in a box we live so close to one another. Sometimes I can hardly breathe let alone sing and play guitar. It saddens me to look at guitar on the wall being played so little. It's such a special, beautiful instrument yearning to be picked up, tuned and loved on so it could sing from the sound hole.