Last Saturday, I hosted my monthly writing workshop at a cafe in Wakefield. It’s always a good place for getting some dedicated time for my writing muscles to flex themselves, especially when I’ve been struggling to find time to write as I have lately. It also forces me to think about writing exercises that will unlock the creativity of my fellow writers. Often, that leads me to draw on my own experiences, and this session was no exception.
I’ve been delivering leaflets recently. As such, I’ve been coming into contact with a lot of gardens and they’ve ignited my creative spark on numerous occasions. Gardens are rarely the same. They’re the first stamp of individuality you see of most homes. I asked my group to describe a garden and think about the individual behind it and, as usual, we got some interesting responses. Dead birds cropped up more than once and there seemed to be a preoccupation with the gloomy side of gardens. To be fair, that’s not unusual with our group – we have a bit of a reputation for that.
The second task I set was about the hallway. I asked the group to think of an object in there that you wouldn’t to find. Yet again, there were some eclectic responses, including a tale that twisted so many times I actually got a little dizzy. The third writing task was that old favourite – the cupboard under the stairs. Like many, that immediately evokes Harry Potter for me and I was interested to see what the group would make of it. Again, most of us took a rather dark path. What fascinated me more, though, was the brighter response from one of our members. Instead of seeing the dark, she elected to see the light.
There are two sides to everything – and a heap more in between. Imagining those gardens, hallways, and cupboards brings you a world of possibilities. So, the next time you glance at a garden, notice the details. You never know, there might be a story in it.
