Writers slip sliding on thin ice making metaphors just in time to prevent themselves from falling in . . .
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A place for Writing 12 students to read each other's writing, to critique, to suggest, to improve.
About Me
- Brad
- Former adult teacher who loves island beaches. Happy homebody and family man; once devoted dog owner, now without Tashi, my Tibetan Terrier. I prefer the absurdity of the imagination to the absurdity of imagining nothing.
4 comments:
There had been a tension between them since they moved to Vancouver. (Linda’s story)
The tension between father and sun had been building, invisible, like a fault line waiting to release its colossal energy.
They met in the coffee shop: actually, she came to him intentionally. (Esther’s story)
They met over coffee. She had planned the meeting carefully, stitching every detail together with malicious intent.
The man was stooping in the grocery's front door lifting up a massive basket of cabbages, carrots, onions, potatoes, oranges, melons, tuna cans, some bags of rice, and then fastening it on the black rear rack of the motorcycle. (Tiffany’s story)
Suggested metaphor for a sentence after this sentence:
The goods made a small mountain, dwarfing the man riding the bike.
Nick notices his chance and jumps behind the desk. (Marco’s plot)
Nick turned a Cirque de Soleil-like summersault as he dove under the desk, gun at ready.
*
A little girl ran out of the store toward the man with a wave of her hand.
A little girl flapped her arms up on the air and capered toward the man.
**
A gust of cool wind cruelly pierced into his bones.
The severe wind blew millions invisible needles piercing into his bones.
***
"I wants to be rich, super rich, and one day, I'll be."
"One day, I'll be on the top of the gold mountain and possess it."
***
We would move to a mansion, have one or two brand cars, employ a foreign maid to do all housework and a tutor to help Pearl and Lily study at home. We also could travel abroad often.
We would have a palace-like life.
The following are all from my story.
Jim finished dinner quietly without asking to refill his rice bowl, and went up stairs, leaving his parents by the table.
*Jim finished dinner quietly without asking refill on his rice bowl, and sneaked away from his parents by the table.
The principal’s speech was echoing in her ears, but May seemed not paying any attention to this.
*The principal’s speech was babbling in the air, but May seemed to turn a deaf ear to it.
May was a little worried about this father-son relationship. There had been a tension between them since they moved to Vancouver.
*May was a little worried about this father-son relationship. There had been a turbulence between them since they moved to Vancouver. May had been trying hard to tame the tide away.
Jim was lying on his bed, and his eyes closed tightly .
*Jim was lying on his bed, playing possum with his eyes tightly closed.
“But I don’t what others calling me smelly boy,” Jim lashed out, and turned his face to his mother. May saw tears in his eyes. She felt her heart sore and somehow her anger smoothed down.
*“But I don’t what others calling me smelly boy,” Jim lashed out, turning his tearful face to his mother. Pity stirred May’s heart. Somehow her anger melted.
Nick heard a heavy knock at the door.
“Who is it?
“Is this Nick Draton?” Said a low, Russian accent barreling through the door like a bass drum.
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