Writing Exercises--Cliche's

Cliche's--Another Writing Group Exercise:
Free-write a contemporary scene with 2 characters in any stage of a romantic relationship using as many of the above clichés as possible.
· Forbidden love (disapproving parent/warring families);
· Dangerous love (bad boy or bad girl);
· Love triangles;
· I hate you, now I love you;
· The exotic, mysterious foreigner;
· The rich playboy vs. the poor but handsome neighbour;
· The Florence Nightingale syndrome (falling in love with your caretaker);
· Adultery;
· Good looks vs. a great personality;
· Misunderstandings keeping them apart;
· Some kind of bet;
· Innocent tickling that leads to an unexpected, intense attraction

Story 1:
When Jennifer and Jeff were in school they eyed each other with the distrust brought on by warring families but then Jeff had fallen and smacked his head on the pavement of the school parking lot. Jennifer was the first came to his aid. When Jeff opened his eyes he saw a vision of Jennifer & fell in love. She looked down at him in his sorrowful, bloody state and decided that he was the man for her.

Her family considered him a "bad" boy from the wrong side of the tracks and he was currently dating someone but she didn't care. She determined right then and there that Jeff was the one for her and she was not going to let anything come between her and her true love.

"Oh Jeff, let's get you to the nurses office".

Jeff, still in a dazed shock, managed to stand up and leaned on Jennifer while holding his head as they walked to the principals office. Suddenly he stopped and turned to her.

"Jennifer, I've grown up hating you, I've never been nice to you and now you've helped me. I...I love you."

"Oh Jeff, of course you do. I know my parents hate your parents and they look down on them. Your family is from the "wrong side of the tracks"...but I'm different. There are a lot of boys that I could have, especially good looking ones, but you, Jeff...well, you are the boy with personality and that's what I love about you."

"This is complicated Jennifer, I have a girlfriend."

"Well, you'll just have to ditch her Jeff. You can't love two girls at the same time."

"But what about her feelings, we've been going steady for almost a year. I think she's expecting an engagement ring when we graduate in June."

Story 2:
Jennifer walked down the street toward her apartment all the while thinking about her boyfriend Jeff and their relationship. They had both come from a small Canadian town and theirs was a forbidden love. His parents hated her parents and vice versa for something that happened thirty-five years ago. Rumours, whispered in the beauty parlor on the town's main street seem to point to a love triangle or some kind of bet that pitted the couples against each other.

When Jennifer and Jeff were in school they eyed each other with the distrust brought on by warring famlies but then Jeff had fallen and smacked his head on the pavement of the school parking lot. Jennifer was the first came to his aid. When Jeff opened his eyes he saw a vision of Jennifer & fell in love. She looked down at him in his sorrowful, bloody state and decided that he was the man for her. Now Jeff and Jennifer were living in the city away from their families and they were committed to each other. Well, at least Jennifer felt she was ready for the next step since the wedding date was fast approaching.

There had been others in college that had turned her head, like Joe, the oh so sexy "bad" boy. She had accepted his invitation to take a motorcycle ride on a whim and they ended up on the beach with a picnic lunch. During their walk along the shore she accidentally pushed him in the water and when he reached out to touch her she shrieked because he had touched her ticklish midriff. Joe sensing an opportunity for closer contact chase her until they fell into the sand and then then tickled her mercilessly. Suddenly the tickling wasn't tickling any more and the two of them embraced passionately. It was too cold to make love in the sand and it was a family beach so the foreplay ended there. On the way back to his apartment Jennifer felt pangs of guilt and asked Joe to take her home. He never spoke to her again.

Jennifer let herself in the front door of the apartment and went to the mail room to check her box. She heard the door open and just as she turned into the lobby to go up the elevator, John Smith from 312, the apartment two doors away from her place, entered into the lobby. He was tall, dark and devestatingly handsome, obviously foreign, with dark eyes that could bore into any woman's soul and made her leg's quiver.

His deep voice broke through the hum of the radiator, "Hello Jennifer."

Feb 25 2009
©Salynne Wilde

The Meeting

Inspired by a fund raiser I attended....

Elena stepped out of the cab onto the sidewalk, gave her name to the concierge and walked up the red carpet into the building. She was scheduled to meet a workmate and one of their clients at this gala fundraiser for the local children’s hospital. It would have been nicer to stay at home, she mused, light some candles and soak in the tub of her newly renovated bathroom. Even so the evening would be filled with fine food, good wine and the small chit chat would pass the time well enough. Besides, the evening was for a good cause.

She spotted him almost immediately when she walked into the foyer. When their eyes met Elena knew that they were both experiencing that certainty of consciousness that comes from knowing each other from some other context, place and time. A smile passed between them and she mouthed the word “Hello”. His blue eyes sparkled and the corners crinkled into crow's feet. His smile widened.

Her attention was drawn away to the coat check and she handed off her scarf and jacket to the attendant. She was not getting that sense of panic that at times comes when you cannot place someone; instead there was a contented satisfaction that his face belonged to someone from her past and there were only positive sensations running through her. He appeared and disappeared in vague flashes of her memory and although there wasn’t enough details to connect the pieces she had a strong sense of conviction that wherever or whenever they had been together it had been a positive, rich experience.

Elena turned and scanned the crowd resting her eyes on the spot where her man of memory had been standing but with all of the jostling and movement he was gone. A movement caught her eye and she smiled as her workmate waved to motion her over to the bar in the large ballroom.

“Elena, Elena, come have a drink”, Anna shouted above the din and the background music as she moved closer.

Elena's attention turned to the art of the trival conversation expected at these types of events and she made her way around the room. She took the opportunity to introduce herself to a few people and before long was totally absorbed in conversation with the person from the marketing company who had designed the event logo. A movement on her right caused her to pause momentarily and lose her train of thought. HE was there, talking with a stunning blonde who tilted her heard and laughed at something he said.

Elena stole a glance at his profile. He was tall, his dark wavy hair had a hint of grey at his temples which set off the pinstripe of his very tailored suit. She took in a sharpe breathe when he looked her way and smiled and she had to work hard to concentrate on what the person in front of her was saying. Thankfully, her conversation finally came to an end and it was then that Elena sensed movement before something soft caressed her arm.

“It’s wonderful to see you again” the rich timbre of his voice in her ear caused a shiver to travel down her neck and through her entire body. She turned to find his eyes inquisitively burrowing deep into hers. He continued, "I know we know each other but I cannot for the life of me remember how or where................."

So how do they know each other? What is Elena wearing? what do you think happens next??

Nov 19, 2008

Salynne Wilde ©2008

Inspired by Blue

Blue, blue and more blue

A blue heart

It's one of my favorite colours; not one of my favorite feelings

Once in a Blue Moon

The colour of our earth & our oceans,

the colour of our sky

the way I see the world

Blue

Salynne Wilde ©2009

The Wedding

OK..so I will not have written for 365 consecutive days. I did not write on Saturday, Sunday or yesterday. I've had plenty to write about however and have been writing "in my head"--its what I do when there is no way that I'm going to get to the computer or sit down with a pen in hand. Sometimes I compose prose but writing in my head often consists of quick notes or poetry like haiku.

My weekend was spent on wedding activities while battling a flu (its a good thing a friend intoduced me to Advil Cold & Sinus or I would have just curled up into a fetal positon & done nothing); we decorated the absoluting gorgeous Burnaby Rowing Club Pavillion, watched the stunning bride walk down the aisle to her albeit nervous but happy groom, had dinner at Horizon's on Burnaby Mountain & then danced the night away watching the sun set through the wall of windows overlooking the lake. It was both breathtaking and inspiring. I was inspired.

Haiku-The Wedding

Walking down the aisle

Graceful satin, pearls and lace

Tears glisten and shine

He waits straight and tall

Eyes meet with joy and wonder

Hearts open to love

Standing before God

Promises to each other

Vows said from the heart

Commitment made true

Troth bonded, gold rings entwined

Two become one flesh

Dancing at sunset

Twilight deepens, stars twinkle

In celebration

Walking together

Step by step Husband and Wife

A new life begun

Salynne Wilde ©2009

The Little Talked about Stress of Getting a Pedicure

Wedding Countdown--One day to go!

Today is mani/pedi day. Most people look forward to the pampering yet for me its a stressful, traumatic time. I used to enjoy it, at least that is until I decided I was going to put my writer's cap on a few years ago and try to look out the eyes of a professional manicurist/pedicurist. It was not a wise thing to do. What I saw was not pretty, especially when I thought about myself as the customer-it gave a whole new meaning to putting myself in someone elses shoes.

My feet are not a pretty sight. First of all they're big, a whopping size ten and whereas most people's toes are plump and round, ready for a cute game of "this little piggy", mine are long and bulbous. Both my big toes slant in towards the others because, as my parents always seem to remind me, that when I was small my toes grew that way because I wore a beloved pair of shoes too long.

When I'm scheduled to get a pedicure the lead up time is filled with self doubt and worry for the person who'll be sitting down working on my feet. It's similar to that feeling so many of us get when you have a housekeeper coming in to clean and there is this compulsive need to tidy the entire house before they arrive. You want them to think that you're not quite the slob you really are. In the days before my appointment everything to do with my feet seems bigger, coarser & dirtier. There are my gargantuan callouses, the grand canyon of cracks in my heels, the start of the bunion on my right foot and worst of all I'm terrified that my feet must smell. I set aside time the day or so before to soak my feet to get rid of any stench & to soften up the thick pads on my soles, hoping the professional won't be so judgemental on how much I neglect my feet. Then of course I have to shave my legs and feet just before leaving for the appointment because I wouldn't want to someone to figure out that I have "stubble" or that horror of horrors I have a few hairs growing on those so obviously horrendous misshapen toes.

When I actually get to the appointment & my feet are soaking the tension mounts. The woman-usually young, moves into position & lifts one of my feet to survey the damage. It's at this point in my nervousness that I compulsively start babbling & asking questions like, "how long have you been doing this" or "I guess you must see all kinds of different feet". What I'm really hoping for is one of those stories wherein the girl will tell me how the worst feet she ever had to work on was the homeless man whose feet were swollen from diabetes, he had ingrown toenails & hadn't bathed in a week. Once I hear and commiserate with her over that or a couple more feet horror stories I can heave a huge sigh of relief, knowing that my feet are not the worst in the world, and sit back and revel in the comfort that having a pedicure gives.

Happy toes to you.

Salynne

A New Book - Diary of a Wedding Planner

You're probably wondering where I've gone. Several pictures will give you an idea. As

You'd think it would be a glamourous job but its been a little...

...to say the least-we're organized & don't have much to do for the actual wedding but its the people you have to deal with! And now to make everything worse I'm...

Yes..sick as a dog. And today I have to clean house & get everything ready for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow.

He may not be my biological son but when ya love someone you want the best for them...but there is a very big part of me that just wants this over.

I have written a little each day however I have not posted it. There is so much advice out there for future authors about writing what you know so I decided that I would start on a new book. It will be similar to the nanny diaries only this will be from a former wedding planners perspective when she puts aside her new career in healthcare to come out of retirement to help plan her son's wedding! The characters will be similar to to those in my own real life...a son who who wants the big dream wedding and the simple country girl who would would rather have a barbeque in the backyard. My son & future daughter-in-law have done what I've told them to do and really have nothing to do this week (most of our stress comes from everyone being sick & relationship issues with other people) but the couple in the book will have a chaotic engagement.

I'll tie in some of the memorable moments from my eighteen years of wedding planning before I "retired"--there is nothing more terrifying for a wedding planner than having a mother of groom dressed in a bright royal blue sequined dress with a blue sequined hat adorned with feathers bearing down on you because she is unhappy-oh and by the way my dress NOT blue; I will never, ever wear royal blue to a wedding. There was the mother who called me the morning of the wedding to tell me and the bride that she would not let her husband, the brides step-father, drive in the limo with the wedding party. She did not like the fact that all of the girls in the party were young and pretty which made her feel old & frumpy. There was the groom that nearly fainted during his vows, the couple who only wanted to pick out their clothes, the band, leave everything else to me and show up at the wedding (that one was fun!), and the little flowergirl who peed herself while walking down the aisle. Last but not least I have to include the life-changing moment when a bride sat with me bawling her head off because the colour of the napkin did not exactly match the colour of her invitation. That was the moment when I looked around and asked myself if there was possibly something more important that I could be doing with my life.

Caio!

Salynne

A Cup of Tea and a Good Book

"You can't get a cup of tea big enough or a book long enough to suit me."

C.S. Lewis

I've been at our convention all day & mentally exhausted so I'm heading off for one of those big cups of tea and some good reading for inspiration. I've got two books on the go:
A weekend to Change your Life-which after reading several chapters was the impetus for starting this blog.
A Pig in Provence-nothing inspires me more than the south of France & its culture.

Come to think of it after spending all day "thinking" something a little entertaining and mindless may be in order.

My Intentions

I've never submitted any of my writing for publishing or entered any writing competitions, etc. My book was published because it met a specific need. Part of the promise to myself to write for the next year entails getting my work out there. The Burnaby Writers Society is hosting a competition with a deadline of May 31 & it is my intention to participate.

http://www.bws.bc.ca/

From the site:

"Things Lost/Things Found-This theme can be interpreted in any way you like -- things (or people) lost, things (or people) found, things lost and then found -- or any other association that may occur to you. Work can be in any form or genre as long as it will fit on one side of a standard 8 1/2" x 11” sheet of paper with standard margins."

This does not seem overwhelming and it looks like a good place to start. My thoughts:

Lost-the TV show, Love Lost, Lost your mind, Alzheimers, mental illness, little girl lost, lost and wandering on the battlefield of alzheimers (remember that from my Wednesday's writing group?), lost a contest or game show, solitary, alone, absent, invisible, misplaced, misspent, wasted, gone, lost at sea, doomed, treasure.

Found-what was lost is found, no longer alone, found in amongst my dreams, calling out, reaching out, lost & found, treasure chest, create, start.

For now the creative process is just beginning with me. Since the next week is going to be extremly busy with my son's wedding I may not have the time to sit down and write more than my blog but I know that ideas will swirl around in a big soup. At some point the soup will begin to form a substance & that will be the time when I'll need to get it on paper.

With the deadline submission on/before May 31 I've still got time to come up with at least one idea or maybe even two. What come to your mind when you think of Things Lost/Things Found?

Spring is in the Air

Spring is in the air-its a cliche, I know, but there is no doubt this season is inspiring!

pregnant raindrops

She breathed deeply and rode the scent of lilacs back in time to her Grandmother's attic....

His gift was well-meaning. The bouquet was made of tulips all in the state of vibrant glory just before they fade.

Happy Spring!

©Salynne Wilde 2009

Wednesday Writing Group Insights

Wednesday's are the day that I attend writing group at work. It's not only a nice break to the day and week but its usually very inspiring and as I found out today can teach you a lot about yourself. Today there were 4 of us and our exercise went as follows:

Step 1: Someone picked a random word & we wrote it down on our sheet of paper
Step 2: Each of us picked a second word & wrote it down on our sheet of paper
Step 3: We passed our papers to the left & wrote our second word on our neighbours sheet. We continued to pass our papers, each time writing our second word on the sheet until our paper came back to us.
Step 4: Each of us picked a third word & wrote it down on our sheet of paper.
Step 5: We passed our papers to the left & wrote our third word on our neighbours sheet. We continued to pass our papers, each time writing our third word on the sheet until our paper came back to us.
Step 6: We now had nine words on our sheet and we had 15 minutes to write poetry, prose or what-have-you based on the words. The real catch? You must use the words in order. The idea is to write & not worry about punctuation or grammar-that can always be fixed later.

The really interesting thing about this exercise was that we all ended up with the same words on our papers but they were all in different order and I found it so interesting and inspiring to see the very different results. Three poems resulted and I wrote prose. Here are the words in my order & my result:

Wildflower
Skylight
Mystic
Battlefield
Seeds
Manic
Oaken
Parsnip
Deadhead

Wildflower stood beneath the skylight in her parents home with the sun streaming down on her and making her warm. This feeling of being alone, an orphan, was new to her; she was now completely on her own.

Her seventy-four year old mother had finally succumbed to pneumonia two weeks earlier on a day that she liked to think had mystic qualities. She thought back fondly to the serenity of the day. As her family was aboriginal Wildflower had requested the elders of their nation preside over her mothers final moments. They smoked the peace pipe and lit sweet grass to ease her passing. As the only progeny of her parents union, Wildflower had fought alone on the battlefield of Alzheimers with first her father and then finally her mother. She was spent and exhausted but she could feel the seeds of change taking root in her heart.

With an almost manic sense of needing to be free she pushed open the oaken door to the back yard. She stepped into the beautiful day and then meandered into her mother's vegetable garden. The parsnips were growing, the tomato's would soon be ready to harvest. The Echinacea plants, her mothers favorite healing herb, stood tall. She deadheaded a few of the purple flowers and held the blooms in her hands. This was a time of healing.

So I wouldn't consider this a fabulous piece of writing but its not bad for thinking on your feet & getting the words in order. Most importantly, I'll take this scene and insert elements in another piece that I'm working on. If there is anything that I'm proud of its the part about having "fought on the battlefield of Alzheimer's" & I will most certainly use that line again.

Perhaps the most important thing I learned from the exercise today is that over the past several weeks I've written a number of times about individuals stepping through doors symbolically to a change or a new life. I laughed when I realized that this parallels my life & is the way I'm feeling about a lot of things. It was an insightful moment.

Why don't you get together with a couple of friends and give the exercise at try. Who knows what personal realizations you might come out with.
©Salynne Wilde 2009

The Child Writer

Today I woke up and decided that if I'm going to make a success of this blog I needed to get more organized. First everything came out of a credenza drawer that is filled with most of my "current" writing. The majority of it is reams of loose-leaf handwritten pages and snippets of paper tagged with quotes and random thoughts. Next came the large plastic waterproof container from my storage that holds file folders of unfinished book projects and various journals started but never finished.

My motive in this exploration is two-fold. First there is the desire to recognize my writing heritage and secondly I'm actually hoping that there might be something contained therein that I can post on days when I'm feeling blocked.

Once everything was gathered in one spot and spread out before me the volume of the work I have produced over the years is surprising and encouraging. After weeding through bits and pieces I picked up the small loose-leaf sheet of paper that contains my very first creative writing paragraph. It was written when I was in Grade 4 and I was eight years old. There was no nostalgic feeling of being transported back in time but the adult me sat looking at the somewhat innocent handwriting and the classroom before me where everything occurred. As I looked back at the scene and the little me sitting there, who would've known that little girl was beginning what would become decades of personal pleasure and sustenance for her spirit.

Bloggers Block

It's day four of my new blogging experience and I'm challenged; I'm suffering from some sort of Bloggers block. Questions are running around through my head: Why am I doing this? What will I get out of this anyway? Can I really do this? A lot of it stems from insecurities and it's the voice of a critic from my childhood that is nagging, Why would anyone want to read what you've written?

I guess mine are the fears that writers have experienced for hundreds of years but judging by the number of books and number of blogs on the internet, many thousands have gone before me. One needs to push the insecurities aside, push forward & put your work out there for all to see. The real question should be, am I writing for myself or writing for others? I believe that a person must write for their own benefit and be content in themselves and their craft. If consequentally other people enjoy it, then that is just an additional blessing.

Pseudonym Smoodonym-The Name Game

Ok..so in case you haven't guessed-Salynne Wilde is not my real name. Gasp! Yes, like the caped crusader I have chosen not to reveal my true identity.

Pseudonym:
–noun
a fictitious name used by an author to conceal his or her identity; especially a pen name. Origin: 1840–50;
Synonyms: alias, nom de plume.

These are the reasons I examined when deciding whether or not I should use a pen name:

• My real name is too common, strange, or hard to spell--Nope, not an issue for me.
• Another author or someone else with the same name has a prominent personality on line or in the media--No problem with this either.
• My name is not a match for the genre I write--Hmm, I don't think that is a real issue.
• The wish to remain anonymous--Ah ha, that's a good one. I'm actually a pretty private person to anyone other than my close friends.
• Having a pen name would allow me a female to write as a male-Interesting idea but certainly not planned.
• I write in more than one genre-Point number two that strikes a cord.
• My subject matter could be inflammatory or controversial--Nooo, not planned.

The idea of a nom de plume is something I've toyed with for some time. I belong to a writing group at my workplace and they all know who I am; I've written a number of things under my real name and even have a published book. For my blog, however, and for works that I wish to publish from this point on another name seems to meet my need for anonyminity and the ability to write in several genres if I so wish.

I thought choosing a new name would be the equivalent of choosing a baby name. It wasn't quite the same but there are similarities. The first thing I did was some homework. The online article listed below was helpful and a great place to start.
http://www.ehow.com/how_2156745_choose-pseudonym.html

Next it was on to trying out a name generator or two but all I could do was laugh at how ridiculous everything sounded. Especially on sites where you can choose a fantasy name or an evil dark elf, pirate or treebeing name. Who knew there was so much selection out there! You might want to give one the one listed here a chance:
http://www.behindthename.com/random/

In the end once I sat down to really think about the possibilities my choice happened quickly and easily. Salynne is a compilation of my real and middle name and Wilde is a variation on a family name. After checking my alias on the internet and being satisfied that it was fairly unique and there were no ax murderers lurking out there with the same name I made my decision firm in my mind. Salynne Wilde just felt right-somehow it embodies the part of me that is the writer and thats reflect the me that I want to share with the world.

Who Am I?

Some of you may have read my profile, curious to know this person behind Wilde Tide. Who am I? It's a question I ask myself often but there can be no ready reply. Who am I is an eternal evolving question for which there is never a static answer. What was true yesterday is not true today, what is true today will not be true tomorrow.

My husband and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary last year and when we sat down to plan the event someone asked if we were going to have the same theme as our wedding. The thought abhorred me. Why would I try to capture the essence of that one day in my life when the me who is now is made up of everything that happened in the 9,125 days in between? We chose a theme that represented us at that time and invited all of the people who made up the vivid multi-colored pallet of the twenty-five years we shared together.

Every day of every year of my life has brought change and every day I become someone different. Today, May 3, 2009, I am:

46 years old, a woman, a wife, a lover, a mother, a mother of a teenager, a daughter, an aunt, a daughter-in-law, a bereaved parent, a person of Metis Heritage (both French and Aboriginal) and good German stock (as my father would say), a healthcare professional, an entrepeneur, a writer, an author, a avid reader, an artist, a painter, a photographer, a sketcher, a sculpturer, a Christian, a friend, an antique lover, a home renovator, a decorator, a sexual abuse survivor, a music lover, a dancer (especially when no one is home & the curtains are closed), a Jane Austen fan, a gardener, a weekend chef, a reluctant housekeeper, a lover of all things lavender, a lover of France, a Provence-aholic, etc, etc.

Oh yes and I forgot. I am: a blogger. This role is new to me as of yesteday. April 30, 2009 I was not a blogger, yet the next day I was, and will be for however long this path leads in a direction I want to go.

Looking at my list for today I notice some of the things listed are inherant, others I have chosen to be. Of all of my choices there is one thing that has characterized me for the majority of my life--it is the simple truth that since I was eight years old I am and see myself as a writer. Today and for the days to come this is the one constant side of me that I wish to share with all of you.

SaLynne

The Beginning

I am a writer and I have something to say.
This is The Beginning-my first blog.

Why Wilde Tide, you ask?
It's simple.
Thoughts rush to me like waves that crowd over each other on their dance to the shore;
at times the current goes out on my inner musings and the beach seems empty and bare.
Quite often, like an unstoppable tide that washes over everything in its path, I must work quickly to get what is in my head down on paper.

I want to share with you the waters of my soul, my writing--
the droplets,
the gentle ripples of my calm ocean,
the waves that swell and rise into a crest,
and
the wild powerful breakers pushed by the squalls of life that finally smash into the rocks, only to disappear into foam and nothingness.

Welcome to my ocean.
Welcome to Wilde Tide.