Thursday, October 1, 2009

Southeast Review Writer's Regimen Day 1

I'm taking a 30 day writer's regimen course. I won't be posting the assignments as Southeast Review has respectfully requested that we don't duplicate the assignment, but I will be posting my writing that comes from the assignments.

Writing Prompt Assignment:
"I jumped, fell and stood. Repeat."

Reading Writing Assignment:
When they were new, they had this intoxicating smell; slightly sour, musty and sweet. I would bury my face in the folds of their neck and breathe in till my lungs were full. I’d pause to exhale and go in for another hit. Time passed and the smell lessened and lessened until one day I couldn’t seem to get my fix no matter how deep I breathed. Then—sometimes years, sometimes days—later I catch a ribbon of the smell as they scamper past me and out the door on their way to some adventure. My breasts tighten and my uterus contracts. I have to sit for a second because I miss the babies that were swallowed up by these little children. The longing dissolves into laughing when I see them through the window, outside riding their trikes and grass-staining their socks on dew-soaked lawn. The blinds make indentations in my hands from pressing up against them as I watch. I remember what it was like without them and it makes me feel a hollowness in my stomach. It’s an unsettling feeling that I fill back up with echoes of their giggles, the memories of fevered nights: years of motherhood. I look down at my softened body: the lines, the indentations; the body I gave to them. Most of the time I miss what it used to be but at this moment, it makes me proud. And later, at night, one under each arm, I sing them to sleep as their heads cut off circulation and send pin-pricks down my arms into my fingertips. Then there’s no regret; only the passion of a mother’s love.

Riff Word Assignment:
He had this aura about him. I squinted and widened my eyes over and over wondering if it was a glare from the fluorescent lights. Man-Made Light Glare or vibrations of his spirit? It was beautiful and purple-blue, the color of lilacs.