WRITER’S RENAISSANCE MEETS SUNDAY JUNE 8
AT
CLEARWATER MAIN LIBRARY
The second Sunday of the month comes up fast this
month — June 8. Last month’s meeting was a strong one, in fact our creative
writing exercise was using strong verbs--a sure way to liven up your writing.
"The boy went to the store." How about skipped, or ambled or even cartwheeled to
the store? Strong verbs bring life as you’ll see in our five minute writing
exercises, where simple topics such as riding a horse, or cleaning the house
were made more exciting through strong verbs. .
Last month’s strength was also a look at examples
of excellent, winning query letters, then dissecting their plus points. Everyone
got more certain of what it takes to write a query letter that sells!
Come to this month’s meeting!
Where: Clearwater Main Library on Osceola in
downtown Clearwater
When: Sunday, June 8 1:30-3:30.
What: Tips on how to multiply your efforts, so one
topic creates many articles for different markets, then how to resell articles
that make it print. All these things increase profit. We’ll also go over some
tips to boost sales. We’ll read from works in progress and get our pens wet
doing a creative five minute writing exercise.
Bring: Pen and paper; a drink and snack for
yourself if you wish; a five minute selection from your work in
progress.
Let’s not "vacation" as writers this summer. Let’s
use "vacation time" to complete one of our writing projects.
RSVP by email or 727 446-5400
Elyse Van Breemen
President
Writer’s Renaissance
Exercise: Using Strong Verbs May 25, 2008
meeting
.
As she made her approach to the barn, she felt the
clip clop of the horses hooves echoing off her ears and her heart. The horse was
dancing in the stall when she reached it with her eyes and embraced it with her
still echoing heart. Much time had escaped into a quiet past since they had
inspected the world together on a walk. Her horse was her and she him as they
flew through the space a few feet above the Earth, sunlight trickling down
through the chill space, over cream puff clouds and into their one heart.
Jill Lumsden
.
The vacuum cleaner sucked up the junk my seven
year old left from his creative art project while I toed across the floor,
practicing my dance exercises.
Balancing a child with serious study of ballet is not a virtuous
recommended activity for an average mom — but who craves the label
"average?"
I began flirting with toe shoes when I was seven — the same age
as my little monster. The romance blossomed into tutus, a serious stink in a
ballet company, at least until I met Bill and enamored myself with procreation.
Elyse Van Breemen
.
Today was anything but sedate. I awoke to the
screaming sirens of police cars. Jolted from bed, I realized they had screeched
to a stop at my house.
"Come out of the house. We have you surrounded."
I peeped through the curtains and counted eleven vehicles. My
mind drifted from dream to reality taking its time as if there were no
emergency.
What could have engendered a police raid on my cozy house
nestled in sleepy Bayview Heights? What dire crimes were my neighbors inventing
for me? Sioux Hart
.
I scanned the living room with distaste. "This
is not my house," I thought. I was appalled at the cobwebs which had woven
themselves into hammocks in corners of the room.
The dust lay mockingly on every surface reminding me how long my
daughter, "The Cleaner," had been away.
I peered into the kitchen hoping, but not finding, a counter
free of mess inappropriately lounging, awaiting further orders.
The floors glared up at me through the leaves which kept
creeping in the front door as we entered and exited the house. I could hardly
fathom the glaring, much because of the muddy paw prints left by "Jack."
Deborah Dunham Fletcher
Emily felt Midnight’s hooves pound the ground. If she had been an ant,
she was sure she would not have survived it. But since she wasn’t, she wouldn’t
have to worry. Instead, she concentrated on the rolling hills as they glided by,
and the caress of the wind through her flowing hair. She would always remember
the sweet harmonies the wind would whisper to her as she rode upon Midnight.
Later, that would be her comfort when her reality would become shaken.
Carla B.
