Matt Tuckey is a writer from Oldham, England. He covers celebrities, night life, Manchester, fitness, creative writing, social media, psychology and events. Some of this may, in some way, help others. Or maybe it'll just entertain you for a while.
Sunday, 12 September 2010
I Thought of This One!
Here's a group writing exercise I fashioned from an exercise in a creative writing book and administered at a recent meeting.
Everyone at the table has two small pieces of paper. On one, write an object. A thing. On the other, write a place. A location. Pass your thing to the person on the left. Pass your place to the person on the right. You should now have a new place and a new object.
Here's the task: Imagine that object has a voice of it's own. It has found itself in the place written on the other slip of paper. Write a short first-person vignette- a scene- from the perspective of that object in that place. How it got there, and what it is doing, is completely up to you.
I received “bicycle wheel” and “York”. I produced this bizarre piece:
Some people are plain clumsy. If you're going to spend money on something, you make sure you know how to use it. I'm in a pretty useless situation here- I'm tied to a lamppost. Not only that- I've been dismembered and abandoned in a strange city- York, to be exact. It's not too bad, though. I'm used to being tied up like this: I am a bicycle wheel. Just a few moments ago, I was part of a full mountain bike. I was rotating at high speeds, my owner cruising me through the modernised Viking streets and back-alleys, dodging ignorant car drivers and death-wish pedestrians. He wheeled me right up to a giant building, a public place full of schoolkids and teachers, a structure with the word “Yorvick” sprawled elegantly across the length of the facade.
My owner took out a thick, heavy padlock from his rucksack and keyed it open. He leaned to the front of me.
No, I thought. I wish I had a voice to stop him.
He slipped the padlock through the front wheel's spokes and onto the nearby lampost.
Big mistake, Sunny Jim.
I was there about two and a half minutes before a very inconspicuous guy came along- just an average-looking lad- and undid the fastenings on the front wheel. He took the rest of me away; wheeled it off. I feel like a dethroned king.
My owner's gonna be pretty pissed off when he gets back- but mostly with himself.
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