I never really looked at or thought about what helps me with writing (inspirations, ideas...) until a bit over a year ago, while I was taking a creative writing class for shits and giggles, at a college in Colorado Springs.
So I'm wondering, what do all of you use to help you along the way when you're writing? I'm also interested in reading some of ya'lls work, and hearing some advice on how I can improve my writing.
I looked at the painting, and wrote this piece for English Comp. instead of writing about myself (I didn't follow directions and still got an A for the assignment ). Leave comments and suggestion, took about an hour to type after I found the painting I wanted to use. I just searched 'paintings' on Google, and skimmed through random paintings until I found one that I wanted to work with.
What is Freedom?
Young and naïve of the world outside of my caged freedom. Its late spring, the skies are bright blue with clouds scattered in every which direction in all shapes and sizes. The smell of rain still present in the scent of the air, from last night’s shower, almost comparable to a drizzle. Green grass with dew drops lightly sprinkled upon, and grasshoppers, ‘mmm grasshoppers’ jumping around in and out of the bushes. A vine has grown up the pole to the very top of the cage, almost as if it were reaching out, hungering for more sunlight, like a prison inmate would, to a guard for an extra piece of bread.
On a stone flower bed wall sat Kristen and her older sister Brenda. Kristen or Kris, what Brenda called her, was picking a yellow rose and sitting intently listening to Brenda as she sang a soft lullaby, her notes reaching Kris’ ears and drifting off into the wind , like the seeds on a dandelion until they reached their new resting spot, and took root. The song came to an end, and Kris sitting with thoughts running through her mind, said to Brenda, “I wish I were a bird, so I could fly. Why, I’d fly as far as my wings would take me. Explore new places, and meet new people and animals and…” but Brenda cut her off mid sentence and told her, “Stop with this nonsense. Why would you want to be a bird? You have everything you could ever want here, with mom and dad.” Brenda slowly stood up, and brushed off her bosom to get rid of the clinging leaves and few small insects that may have crawled on her while she was seated. Walking away, Brenda continued singing but a different song, one about spring that she’d learned in school.
Kristen made eye contact with me and moved on over toward my location. “You don’t know how lucky you are Jack, if only.” She reached her hand over and I stared at it, but didn’t make any attempt to come in contact with her. Looking off to my right, I saw blue jays flying off in the near distance playfully and catching on to the slight breeze and just gliding with their wings at full spread. Free.
Kristen reached over and twisted the small latch up and slid it over, opening the door in a smooth single motion. Kris reached in and extended her index finger towards me. Reluctant at first, but seconds later I hoped upon her hand and grasped tight, Kris removed her hand from my cage, but with her thumb holding down on my feet, to be reassured that I didn’t escape. As Kristen began to speak, thoughts ran through my head, of a few months passed, when a storm had rolled in knocking the nest that I once lived in, onto the ground and knocking me unconscious, only to awoke the next day with some bandage around my right wing, and Kristen placing me in a cage.
“Can we keep him mommy?” Kristen asked.
“Only until he is healed, then you have to release him honey.” Mom replied back.
After that day we spent a lot of time together, Kristen spoke of her feelings often and the events that made up her day.
Days went by, leading into weeks, leading into months. I was healed eventually, but still no sign of release. As my thoughts slowly cleared up, I noticed a weight that had been lifted. Kristen had removed her thumb. Glancing at her face I could see sadness in her eyes, tears had swelled up but she managed to fight them back. “Go on.” Kristen struggled to get the words clear from her throat, “You’re free again.”
I without hesitation took flight into the air, but came to a rest a few feet from Kristen. Looking off into what I once knew as freedom , and back at who and what I’d become so comfortable and accustomed to, I took a step back towards freedom.