By Zoe Wolf
I was given an assignment to write my own poem, story song, or any kind of writing I could think of, but nothing seemed to be what I wanted to write about.
That’s the problem. When the assignment was given, we were told that as soon as we had an idea of what to write about (INDEPENDENTLY), we were to go to the teacher and tell them what we were going to write about, and after we did, we should go to the computer lab and write about it.
Our assignments had to be at the minimum two-hundred words. Writing a fantasy isn’t something I like to do, but there is nothing real that sounds interesting either.
I sat motionless in my chair for a while, preoccupied of my surroundings, thinking, brainstorming of things that wouldn’t be too hard to write about.
Sure it might be easy to make something up on the spot, but the real issue is having it being read by other people, who I probably wouldn’t even know.
If in fact I did write a fantasy, I wouldn’t want it to be too un realistic; and I certainly wouldn’t want to write a story or poem or whatever that was about me.
As I thought hard in my chair, going over all the possible topics I could write about, I realised the other people in my class start getting up to tell the teacher their idea. I knew from my thoughtless mind that I would be the last one.
Then, it hit me.
I would write about this.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment