Stacey A. Wolfe
response to the six week on-line workshop short image exercise
copyright 1998 Stacey A. Wolfe
may not be reproduced in any form without permission of the author

Note by Storyarts:

There are other ways this exercise could be done, but this example comes close to being exactly what I hoped to see.   When you finish reading, take a moment to ask yourself what it is you most clearly recall from this page.  If you would like to comment directly to the author email Storyarts.  We will see that she gets it.  If you would like to share your comments with others, use the listserv.  (see  updates )
 
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                                Writing Short Fiction Lesson I

An object that was found.

About three months ago, I was at my brothers house and got thirsty. I looked into the frige and grabbed a
bottle of Coca Cola and I started to pour it in the glass. As soon as I started to pour the soda, the smell of it
made me think of my Nana who died last October. I started to think about all the times I had gone to her
house for lunch and dinner, when she made me homemade french fries, cupcakes and I drank Coke. I
actually started to cry.

An object that was lost.

WIthin the past 6 months, actually I think it was around Christmas, I lost a gold hoop earring that was given
to me by my mom for my 18th birthday. As soon as I opened the present she informed me that these were
very expensive earrings and to take great care woth them. She told me they cost "an arm & a leg" and to be
careful with them. I had worn these earrings for 5 years straight taking them off only to clean them. Guess I
wasn't too careful though. Around Christmas time, I went to a party, drank too much and ended up sleeping
at a hotel. When I got home the next day I realized that somehow during or after the party I had lost one of
the earrings.

An object that was burned.

The only thing that comes to mind when I think of an object that I know of that was burned, are the palms I
receive every Palm Sunday at church during the easter season. Before you place the new plams in your
home, you must burn the old ones. I burn the old ones every year for my mother. I can remember the first
time I did burn them. i burned them at the curb at the end of my driveway. I was with my friend and we
started doing them one by one, but it was so windy that that woyld have taken forever. So, we did them in
clumps. People drove by, neighbors looked out their windows at us, and I can remember thinking, "man I
hope these people think we are doing something nuts, something illegal." I wanted maybe in a way to burn
the goody goody image people had of me along with the plams I was burning.

The oldest object in my home.

In my home on the wall in my computer room hangs an antique picture frame that surrounds a family photo
of my Nana and her family, people I have never met. The frame is the exact same frame that sat on top of
my great grandmothers mantel. Whenever I look at this picture, I always say to myself that I want to
somehow do a family tree and find the relatives in my family whom I have never met before.

An object I am planning to get rid of.

Currently, me and my mom are redecorating our house, getting all new furniture, etc. Soon, I will be getting
rid of my white wicker bedroom set, a set that was the actual first set I had ever had. The only othr bedroom
furntiutre I had were hand me downs, and items that didn't match.

An object that belonged to my mother.

For my 21st birthday, my mother had the engagement ring that my real father gave her reset in a new
setting. She told me to pass this ring along to my daughter. Because it was such a beautiful diamond, and
one of the few things I have left of my real dad, she wants it to become a fmaily heirloom.

An object that belonged to my father.

I do not have anything in my possession that belonged to my dad, except old photos which only make me
hate him more when I look at them. Whenever I look at these pictures, I just get so angry because it was not
by death, but by choice that my father never wanted to see me. He divorced my mother when I was 9 and
that was the last time that I saw him. But, he kept in contact for awhile with my brother, telling me that he
did this because he wanted 2 sons and got a son and a daughter. I'll never forgive him for that.