A Writing Exercise: Five Minutes

I'm giving myself five minutes to write something. Ready...GO!


There was something odd about the house. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, and neither could Dave. Perhaps it was the peculiar way in which the windows hung open; their paint worn away, leaving a terrible sort of dingy color much like an unchanged diaper. Then there was the front door itself; horribly worn, with bits and pieces sticking out. There were slabs of wood taped over what appeared to be a hole cut out for a cat or a small dog. The place was a mess.

"Yeah, this is it," Dave said. "I can feel the vibes. This is a great place to shoot. Honey, don't you like it? It's creepy. Fits your dress. This'll be great, sweetie."

I wasn't so sure. Although I was keen on shooting a masterpiece for my newest album artwork, I didn't want to do it in this particular house. Already, the stink of it was affecting me. I could nearly feel my perfectly shaped curls loosening in apprehension. I would look dreadful in these pictures, wouldn't I? Sometimes, I had to wonder what brought Dave and I together. Certainly not our appreciation for the decimated and decayed. My tastes were much more refined.

I patted on some loose powder and pursed my lips. We were here. I'd humor him for a moment or two. Nothing more than that.


This is a fun little exercise to try. Above is the product of five minute's worth of writing utter bullshit (unedited, of course--I haven't even read over it yet!). Do I know these characters? No. Did I have any idea of what I was going to write about before I started? No. Am I more inspired in general? Yes!

Take five minutes to write up a storm. It's good to try new things.

Kat