Playtime!

I've been attending a couple of writer workshops this week, taught by author Rebecca Johns (I bought The Countess and will review it when it works its way through my mountainous TBR pile). It was fun, as these things are, and we got to do some little writing exercises.

Do you like just being asked to write something off the top of your head? I do, because you can be as bad as you like. Unless you have one of those teachers who gets their jollies from destroying students' self-esteem, which can keep you quiet for years afterwards (as I know from my own experience). You can also write differently from your usual style, because it's just a few words on paper, not the Great American Novel. It's throwaway writing.

So what I thought I'd do today is put down something that came out of one of those exercises, and let you play with it. Do what you want - write your own piece in the comments, critique the heck out of the thing (I have grown a thick skin since my early days) or steal it and sell it on the Kindle. It's a bit different from my usual writing voice, but I had fun with it. If you're shy, you can send your piece to keepgoingyoufool(AT)gmail(DOT)com.

There is no right answer. This is raw, unedited writing, and what you do with it is your business.

The writing prompt was to write a scene where a character talks politely but thinks quite differently. So here is Mr. Hoop (and sorry about the lack of indents, but that's difficult to do in html):

*****

She had a mole on her chin. The kind with the hairs, and as she yapped it jumped up and down until I was sick to my stomach.

". . .of course," she was saying, "the wages are slightly less than you'd asked for. But these are hard times, aren't they?" She pursed her thin mouth and the mole stuck out an inch, I swear.

"They are indeed, ma'am. And I'm just ready and willing to work." I'll get to work all right. Wait till I find out where they keep the cash box. I smiled. "I'm really so grateful, ma'am."

Her lips stretched and I could see little jagged teeth. She fingered her ring, a big one with a diamond that made my mouth water.

"That's a pretty ring you got there. If you don't mind me getting personal, ma'am. You've been so kind I feel like we're friends already."

She simpered. "Mr. Binks--my fiancé, you understand--is a jeweler. He only gives me the best."

I'll bet. "I can see he's a good man too, ma'am. I hope I get to meet him." I hope I get to meet the keys to his store.

The mole jumped. "Well then, Mr. Hoop, shall I show you where I keep my little treasures?"

*****

So what happened next? Who or what were the little treasures?

Photo credit: Veo at Stock.xchng.