EXCERCISE IN WRITING

The idea here is that you have to construct a story around these phrases. I guess it is practice in being able to to something to order rather than just working from your own imagination.

• Sarah threw the book out of the window.
• On Friday it was all over.
• For years now she had thought of doing this.
• They had ham and eggs for lunch again.
• Bravery, she knew, was often underrated.
• ‘If you even think it, I’ll ….’
• The doorbell rang.
• ‘You’re so beautiful …..’
• It was early afternoon.
• She recalled a particular phrase her mother had once said.
• Beyond the garden wall there was a school.
• Her dress was the colour of wet slates.
• The mirror was set in a gold frame, and she remembered the day he had bought it for her.

Here is the result of my efforts:-

A NEW START – By West Coaster

She had talked it over with her mother on Wednesday. On Friday it was all over.
Before he arrived she looked at herself in the hall mirror. Her dress was the colour of wet slates. The drab colour matched her mood. The mirror was set in a gold frame, and she remembered the day he had bought it for her.
What a tosser, she thought. Him and his stupid gifts. Ludicrous furniture and books on self improvement.

It was early afternoon. The doorbell rang. She opened it.
“Hello Simon, just go through to the kitchen.”
He stepped in and, rather awkwardly, thrust a brown paper package into her hand. “It’s a little present for you.” Without looking at it she laid it down on the table in front of the mirror.
She followed him into the kitchen. “I thought you were going to eat with your parents.”
“I was.” He said. “But they just won’t cut down on their cholesterol. They had ham and eggs for lunch again.”
She pictured him, hectoring his ageing parents about their diet.

“You’re so beautiful, that colour suits you.” He gazed at her with large bovine eyes.
She looked out of the kitchen window at the garden as she mixed a salad for him. At least she could give the condemned man his last meal. Beyond the garden wall there was a school.
His van was parked in the playground. The sign on it’s side read ‘Simons Objects Darts’. The man was a cretin.
He seemed to read her thoughts.
“Please don’t leave me.” He said. “If you even think it I’ll probably kill myself.”
“Oh really Simon. Don’t be so wet, and stop snivelling. It’s over, I’m moving on”. She felt now a feeling of liberation. She recalled a particular phrase her mother had once said.
“Never get involved with a man unless he looks like he’s good for least one orgasm a day”.

She led Simon back to the front hall. There was just one more thing. Bravery, she knew, was often underrated. For years now she had thought of doing this.
“Goodbye, Simon, and here”. She hefted the heavy gilt framed mirror from the wall and gave it to him.
“Goodbye Sarah”. He tottered unsteadily down the path.
Sarah absently picked up the package that Simon had left and went back to the kitchen. She sat in front of the open window enjoying the afternoon breeze. She unwrapped the package, it was a book, its peremptory title shouted from the cover. ‘Start Writing Fiction!’ What a load of old bollocks, she thought. Sarah threw the book out of the window.