week 15 choice 4

I never liked writing much; it was too difficult for me to get my ideas out onto paper. Assignments were often turned in late in school because I would procrastinate and find something else to do. Even if I could get the words I wanted to say out, my ADD brain wouldn’t allow me to sit and write for very long before I had to go do something else.

            Over the years I got better at writing, but my procrastination still slows the process down, even now I keep drumming on the keyboard and have to delete the random letters that appear when I hit the keys. But I have come to enjoy writing, although I don’t do it in my spare time much. I would like to someday write a book and have it published, but that may take a while, I don’t even know what I would like to write a book about.

            I would like to be a bestselling writer and maybe get a house on the edge of town. Write a trilogy or series that lasts a few years. But try and stay out of the spotlight a bit, maybe use a pen name, I don’t like attention much.

            This semester during this class I have learned to look at things that I write about in new, interesting ways. I think my descriptions have improved and I have increased my patience for writing a bit more. Some of the prompts and themes were a bit hard for me but I think that I have learned from them and I have gotten better at writing because of this class.

theme week 14 no 2

The white cat curls up on the end of the bed, sound asleep until she hears the sound of food being dumped into her dish. She doesn’t need to eat any more food, she is already way too heavy for a cat, but she insists on eating more and more until she fills the black hole that is her stomach, before trotting over to the cat door and squeezing her way outside. She rolls around in the dirt, turning her nice white coat gray before coming back inside to eat some more and sleep for the next 18 hours, then begin the cycle all over again.

theme week 14 no1

Choppy, uneven pages that don’t line up. Faded golden letters stamped into the spine. The cover has been bleached by the sun, once a brilliant red, now a soft pink. The text is indented into the paper, making dips and new textures from being pressed against a printing press. The book is old, older than any one still alive today. It’s been read by dozens of people, checked out from the library to be read for pleasure, and later for school reading. Battered and abused until the library didn’t want it anymore and sold it. The new owner kept it for several years until donating selling it to the book store down town, where it sat on the shelf among hundreds of other books, waiting to be picked up again.