Writing class was a little "meh" last week. Partly because I got scolded by the teacher for not following a rule and was embarrassed about it, and also because I wasn't very happy with the stories I wrote during our two - seven minute writing exercises. I was the only person in my class not to read one of their stories aloud.
The first story was based on a list of the five worst hotels we'd ever stayed in. I could only think of two; The Standard, downtown - because the room smelled like puke, and the strange little room in the strange little hotel in the strange little town in France I stayed in two summers ago. The latter could make a good story, but what I wrote was boring and didn't have an ending.
The second exercise was a fun idea. We were each given to pieces of paper and told to write something silly we believed as children on one, and something sad or tragic that's happened to us on the other. The scraps of paper were then folded and dropped into separate boxes, followed by those boxes being passed around the room and everyone taking one scrap of paper from each box. We were to write a story based on those suggestions, and also use a "typical character" which we had listed on a white board (corrupt lawyer, blond bombshell, computer nerd, etc.). I chose "hooker with a heart of gold" as my character, and I can't tell you what the scraps of paper I chose read because that's what I got scolded for in the first place.
I liked the story I started and would like to expand it, but I wasn't happy with what I had written so far, so I didn't read it. I guess I was kinda pouting. I also forgot my notebook with all my notes in it, and my camera, which means no food-porn photos. I can tell you though, that we had anise panna cotta with stewed peaches for dessert, and I almost died of yum.