Hey folks!
I'd like to propose a new exercise for the writers in our midst, intended to get the gears spinning in your brains. It should take you around 15 minutes to do, but put as much or as little time into this as you wish.
Behold - the THREE WORD CHALLENGE.
Every Monday, I will be putting up a list of three randomly generated words (From http://watchout4snakes.com/creativitytools/RandomWord/RandomWordPlus.aspx (http://watchout4snakes.com/creativitytools/RandomWord/RandomWordPlus.aspx)). From those three words you are to compose a short paragraph or two of whatever comes to mind in any format. Feel free to write a mini-story, or an unlinked paragraph, or a cookbook - whatever you like!
This is not a competition of any kind - it is intended to be a venue for writers of all skill levels to just get something out there a few times a week, which is the hardest part of writing. Please do not critique people's writing unless they ask for it in advance. You are welcome to critique mine anytime you like, I already know my writing is shite! :)
So without further ado, here are this week's three words:
CONTEST
LANDSCAPE
SMOOTH
Billy was in a jam. He paused for a moment to stand up straight and wipe the sweat from his eyes, and to glance over at his opponent's progress, at which point he grimly resumed his raking.
Billy's nemesis, Horace (From Horace & Horace Landscaping Co.) was working tirelessly, with a disinterested look on his face. In once massive hand he wielded a gigantic pair of gardening shears like a pair of scissors, and with the other he flipped through tracks on his iPod. Noticing Billy looking up at him, Horace paused to grin and thrust his pelvis in his direction. Billy noticed that he had pruned the bush he was working on into a likeness of his own head.
Billy couldn't let him win. But he was too strong, and Billy was just too tired.
His vision wavered as his fatigue overcame him, and he leaned forward over his rake for a moment, hoping to recover. The pile of yard clippings he had made in front of him shifted, or seemed to shift, and to his surprise he heard his father's voice.
"Billy," rustled the pile, "I've come back from the grave for a short while to speak to my son in his hour of need."
"Am I dreaming?" said Billy, "After all these years, all I've ever wanted was to hear some encouraging words from my father."
"Keep dreaming, you idjut!" the pile twigged at him. "You suck, and there's no way you can win without cheating. So cheat! CHEAT!" With that, the pile fell silent. But Billy had heard what he needed to hear.
When he straightened up for the second time he noticed Horace had his back turned to him and was bobbing his head to something blasting through his headphones. Seizing his chance, he grabbed his leafblower from his stack of tools behind him.
Heart pounding, Billy cranked up the blower, and without pause, thrust the end into his father. An explosion of leaves and twigs flew through the air, and for a moment Billy thought he could see the shape of his father in the leaves, giving him the finger.
Billy tossed his leafblower over his stack of tools, as far away from him as he could throw it without breaking it. He turned to watch as the gardening debris landed all over Horace's pristine plot.
Horace yanked out his earphones and turned to Billy, furious, but by then Billy was innocently back to his raking, with no clue as to what could have caused the sudden leafy eruption. All Horace could do was grab his own leafblower and try to clean up the mess of twigs and leaves, but by then it was too late.
Post Merge: April 06, 2009, 01:29:28 -06:00
Oh yes, feel free to use my link to come up with your own three words if the ones I generated aren't doing anything for you.
For the record, I'd love to do this kind of thing, I just haven't had an opportunity to write anything outside of work the last week or so. =P