My Journey

From mind to paper and back again.

Activities from other books I have…

on October 8, 2008



Write down three of the following:



Sounds that you can hear:


  • Chatter of people on the phone
  • Tapping of keyboards
  • Ringing phones



Textures that you can feel:


  • Rough carpet underfoot (I’ve taken my shoes off)
  • The smoothness of the desk
  • Smooth plastic of the mouse



Odours that you can smell:


  • Coffee – strong it can be smelt across the banks
  • People’s lunches
  • Coconut moisturiser



Flavours that you can taste:


  • Strong coffee
  • Sweet chocolate milk
  • Orange juice



Objects that you can see:


  • Computer banks
  • Large screens on the wall
  • Plants against the windows




Using the present tense write about a personal memory of either a place or a character in your notebook.  (250 max)


His strong masculine body towers at an easy six foot above me.  Large hands with long slender fingers that have a gentle but steady hold.  His eyes betray the smile that he is hiding with a hint of a shine behind the plain rimmed glasses he is wearing.   His blond hair is getting slightly long and he needs a shave – a small amount of rough stubble adorning his cheeks and chin from the days hard job hunt.  His arms wrapped around my waist are strong and comforting.




Make a list of objects from your childhood home.  Read through your list and circle the objects that evoke the strongest feelings and memories of events.

  • What are these events?
  • Do you see a story lurking there?

Now write a paragraph describing one of these events.

  • Where exactly did it happen?
  • What objects were involved?

Don’t use any overtly sentimental language, let the details speak for themselves.


  • Brass teapot and stand on the fireplace
  • Elephants on the fire
  • China set on the unit
  • Oil paintings on the wall
  • Vase on shelf on top of the stairs
  • Wardrobe door in box room
  • Ben – teddy
  • Strawberries in old kitchen sinks outside
  • Pink couch and cushions
  • Sun lounger


The sun dried soil pulls at the water in the old style pot sinks delicately laid in a line well spaced in the garden outside.  The white paint is cracked and flakes fall to the floor tugged by a summer wind, soft and gentle.  The water pours from the can tenderly and falls onto the green leaves that encompass the bright red juicy strawberries.  It looks like this time I beat the birds that run a mock through the plants and pinch the ripened fruit.  With a clean bowl at my feet my chubby fingers pink fingers pluck the fruit from its stems, unaware of the watchful eyes of my Gran on my back through the kitchen window – a slight smile on her face as she watches my efforts between the three planters.


The fitted wardrobe newly painted blue still has one door that won’t stay closed.  It swings open slowly creaking in the process, hinges rusted but still strong after more than twenty years.  The piece of paper used to jam the door together flutters slowly to the floor.


The cushion’s shaped where I used to dig my heals in to get comfy, the green and white stripes replacing the old blue cover, tatty and worn beyond repair.  The shaky sun lounger spent more time in the bedroom as a bed as a whim than outside on the green lawn in the summer.

Crowded in the bedroom with a double bed, a sleeping bag and everyone’s belongings for the following day, it used to look quite proud in its place by the window, the chaos of the following day taken over, the lounger looked quite dismal, forgotten by the sun.




Write a scene in which two characters are arguing about the setting.  One wants to leave the other wants to stay.


            ‘I’m  really  fed  up  of  being  here    it’s  over  four  months  now  and  granted  I  don’t  remember  the  first  two  but  these  last  two  have  driven  me  crazy!’

            ‘Sam  you’re  not  ready  to  come  home  yet.    What  about  your  treatment?    What  will  you  do  at  home?  You  still  won’t  be  able  to  get  out  and  about  you  know  Babe.    You’d  be  even  more  on  your  own.’

Sam  put  her  head  in  her  hands  and  shook  it  gently.    She  rubbed  her  eyes  and  looked  at  James.    It  was  a  long  appraising  look.    Sam  had  been  through  a  lot  recently,  she  was  still  adjusting  to  her  physio routines  and  the  medication  for  the  pain  in  her  lower  back  and  legs.    Pain  was  good  though,  it  meant  that  she  could  feel and react.    Six  weeks  before  she  wasn’t  able  to  and  the  memory  of  it  still  terrified  her.




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