So just how many senses are there?

Alrighty then. ….

Trying to think of a clever opening.

Oh well, nothing doing. Here’s today’s writing exercise:

Write, for ten to fifteen minutes, a narrative in which the setting is described in terms of the senses. All of the senses. That would be the five: touch, taste, hearing, smell, sight.

Now I think we do have a sixth sense: one that we should trust more than the others, but that is neither here nor there.

Nor thither, nor yonder, nor hither.

What were we talking about?

Oh yeah, my writing exercise. So I’m going to write, not exactly freewrite, but more or less… freewrite, for about fifteen minutes. The setting will be described as regards the senses of the character.

This is a continuation of my last writing exercise. Please go to: http://quitandwrite.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-exercise-flunky.html if you need to review that post.

In the eternal words of Mario the plumber: Here we go!

I dug my fingers into what I had thought were almost rotting boards, expecting on some level that they might tear into spongy bits. Not so much. Splinters slid, smooth and hot, up under my fingernails.

I stopped scrabbling at the boards and tried the wiggling strategy.

The T-Y, let’s just call it TY from now on, to save time, shall we? grunted/farted in its mouth, its sharp teeth jabbing through the skin of my right ankle. “Stop you must! To the ship we go! Food delivered it must be!”

Even through the terror and heavy smell of fish clogging my nose, I mentally paused to figure out that last one. The food had to be delivered. Was I the food?

No, TY had torn open my cash-filled backpack and had declared that I had food.

I wasn’t the meal. Was it going to eat my perfectly hard-earned cash?

“Let me go!” I shouted, twisting and jacknifing my body to try and get some purchase on the wet boards. By now I felt splinters and slimy moisture on my stomach, my shirt having found its way up to my chin.

A post. Through the fog I saw rope tied around a vertical post. I flung my body at it. The moment my fingers reached it, I stretched and snaked my arms around it. It stunk like… well… hundred year old wood would stink after being next to the ocean for so long.

TY mouth-farted again. “Let go you will! Late you make us!”

“Screw that!” I yanked hard. Fire in the ankle and the flavor of agony in my mouth, tasting like a hot copper penny. Yeah, my foot just about came off. Wasn’t going to do that again. Scrapped that plan. Let it go the way of the dodo.

You get the point. I wanted to keep my foot.

“Food you have. Delivered it we will!”

“Where the hell are you taking me?” In hindsight, I have to say I had adapted well from a perfectly calm heist, I mean… okay, my money was ill gotten. Okay, it was from blackmail.

Anyway, that had been a normal con, but now I was having a conversation with some kind of cold-blooded dog-lizard. I heard seagulls fighting in the background; creaking masts and hulls against the pier. And there I was, gripping what felt and tasted like a driftwood post while this creature chewed on my ankle. I was coping admirably.

“To the ship we go!” A firm tug ended the brief, but valiant on my end, battle: I really wanted to keep my foot. Keeping limbs was the better part of valor.

Realizing I couldn’t win a tug of war against this thing, I focused on keeping the number of bruises and abrasions on my body to a minimum. My knees felt like they were bleeding from the rough bumping over the pier boards, my stomach was a pin– or splinter– cushion.

I was supposed to be getting home and hiding my latest earnings in my stash.. but no… TY had shown up and was now dragging me to a boat.

What was next? Was a munchkin waiting for me? A green witch?

Suddenly TY turned onto what must have been a boat, although since I was still on my gut, I really couldn’t tell. A wash of light, almost warm in its yellow brightness, brushed my neck and head, expanding as we got closer to it.

Okeedokee, that’s where we must stop. About fifteen minutes there.

Did I get all of the senses?

You can’t tell, but I went one direction about 2/3 through, but didn’t like it, so I went back and went this way. Tried going a little more fantasy, but didn’t feel right.

So, I’ll be back next week to do some more. Should be exciting, effervescent, and so deeply moving you will weep.

Crap, sorry… Van Morrison’s on Pandora. He makes me get overwrought and poetic (mainly because I want to be like him, but can’t pull it off). Gonna have to skip.

If you’ve enjoyed this song about Finland, or would like to know mo-…

Sorry again, got off track.

Right. Share this post. Share this blog. You have my permission to put a link to this blog on your blog, your Facebook, your MySpace, your whatever else.

You may even write the link on your forehead. In permanent marker. No seriously, that’s just fine.

Just share.

About jaredgarrett

Jared Garrett is the author of Beat, a YA scifi thriller, and its forthcoming sequel, both published by Future House Publishing. A new series, debuting in January 2016 and also published by Future House, kicks off with Lakhoni, a fast-paced rescue adventure in a world reminiscent of Aztec culture, to be released in January 2016. He self-published Beyond the Cabin, a novelization of his childhood in a cult, in December 2014. Both Beat and Beyond the Cabin were Whitney Award nominees, and his story Song of the Wind, received honorable mention in the Writers of the Future contest. In addition to writing, he's spent fifteen years in adult education and is an accomplished public speaker and workshop leader.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.