Regular Storytime

I enjoyed the last post (see "Storytime") and the "overwhelming" response immensely so I have decided to make this a weekly staple of my blog. Each Wednesday, I will endeavor to write a short snippet of a story, or maybe just a prompt, to have you, the reader(s), write a little to explain a scene or talk about your own experience. The goal is to engage you as the reader and to make you use some of that God-given creativity that you may have buried.

It will also force me to be consistent in writing and thinking about writing.

Here we go. Be creative. Thanks for playing.

Peace.


"The numbers don't lie," she said. "It's all right there in front of you."



"How did it happen?"



"I don't know," she replied.



"Are we sure they're right? I mean, have you checked them and have you asked questions? I'm not saying they're wrong, I'm just trying to make sure we covered everything."



"I have been doing this for fourteen years and I could do this in my sleep. I know every possibility, every scenario. I know where the mistakes could be made and I have been over this three times myself. The numbers are right. Crazy as that may be, they are right."



"Well, if they're right, and we're absolutely sure we're right, this is huge. Any ideas about where we go from here?"


What's going on in this scene? Who are the characters? What do "the numbers" refer to? Is it business or personal, positive or negative? Where do they go from here? Leave your thoughts in the comment section. Have fun.

P.S. If you click the titles of the posts, sometimes they take you to interesting places. Sometimes.

Storytime

Isaiah had never seen this preacher before. This man was way too handsome to be a real preacher. He was tall and broad and had a full head of hair. His suit fit well. His shoes were free of scuffs. He was the kind of man that Isaiah imagined was really a professional baseball player, a pitcher he thought, and had hurt his arm so he couldn't throw anymore. That's why he's here, pretending to be a preacher. "He probably smells like leather and chewing tobacco", Isaiah thought.

Isaiah's mind began to drift. "How come there's not even a real preacher here? Who are all these people? Where's my dad? I hope nobody talks to me. What am I supposed to say to them if they do talk to me? I wish Reggie was here. That lady has some bad hair. It looks like she's carrying a raccoon on her head. I want to get out of here. Oh God, here comes the fake preacher."

Just thought I might try something a little interactive. I'm curious about what you think is going on in this little scene. Who is Isaiah? How old is he? Where is he in this scene? Who is Reggie? I know people don't read blogs to be made to be creative (this blog at least!), but maybe we can stir those creative juices anyway. Let me know in the comment section what you see going on here. Be as detailed or vague as you would like but be creative.

Peace.

Excuses

This is supposed to be an excuse post regarding why I have not written on this little piece of cyber paper for almost a year. I gave options for which excuse you wanted. You voted. I had great plans for some made up stories to go along with the first line.

I decided to just go with reality. (That's a novel thought in this world isn't it?)

There isn't really an excuse other than I haven't been writing here. I have been working on a couple of projects off and on (writing curriculum, if you want to call them that). I had been, up until January, working on a full time job that sucked all my energy and creativity to stay on top of it. Both qualify as excuses, but not very acceptable ones.

I came across this quote a few years ago and it has stuck. I don't know that it has made me more "productive", but it has made me aware that "not enough time" doesn't really fly as an excuse.

Don't say you don't have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo Da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson and Albert Einstein.--H. Jackson Brown

I will do better.

Thanks Scott.

Peace.