Rough Drift

"Small" writing challenges for my small writing talent. Hotel note pads are the only space allowed. Let's see if I can strip it down and tighten it up to learn something. Improving my skill of weird fiction.

77.) Whittling on

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The old man in suspenders stops whittling when he has empty hands, or he ends when holding a smartly carved idea. The result reached on that porch, whittling with friends and shavings piled by boots.

My sharpened pencil carves and whittles at ideas. Sometimes, things come from it. I can show what I created on my porch. I can set it high on my mantle and remember the day, the weather, the people I met. I mostly wind up with shredded and dissected ideas at my feet; hacked into nothing to say. The time spent, nearly as enjoyable. Whittling on.

(Feb. 12th, 2017: Home) Just a free writing moment turned into something interesting to contemplate, just like an unexpected result.

 

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This entry was posted on February 13, 2017 by in #creative writing, non-fiction, observational, pencil, ritual, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , .
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