Writing Exercises

I have several books with writing exercises for writers. One book I am using is A Picture Is Worth A 1,000 Words. By Phillip Sexton and photos by Tricia Bateman. It gives you a prompt to start and then you write a story. So, here we go:

Prompt: Based on the shirt at left, what can you determine about the man who wears it? Write a scene in which you use a description of this shirt to convey personality, status, situation, and attitude. Consider how other characters might react to the man, based on what's implied by your description.

Well, to start, since Ralph is written over the two tone pocket, one would presume his name is Ralph and his shirt looks like it belongs to a place where the employees wear uniforms. However, it is always possible that he had to borrow a shirt from the office because both of his shirts are dirty. Ralph could be a former employee, who left his shirt in the office when he quit. It looks like he could work at a number of places. McDonald's, 7/11, an auto repair shop or maybe a sporting goods store. The shirt looks a lot like a football referee shirt. Or, he could be on a bowling team, it looks like a bowling team shirt, too. He is skinny--or at least not fat. There are no signs of the fabric stretching to the limit. No wrinkles and it's very clean. So, I will eliminate an auto repair shop--his shirt is too clean. Of course, he could be the guy out front. He doesn't tuck the shirt into his pants. Youngish---30's--early 40's.

For simplicity sake, we will say his name is Ralph. And, I have decided, he is bowling with the guys. So....

Ralph cringed as he watched the ball roll slowly to the side of the lane and into the gutter. A gutter ball, I haven't gotten a gutter ball since I was in the 10th grade. He wiped his hands off on his crisp, clean shirt.

"Ralphy, boy! What's up? You've been bowling like crap all night. We're trying to win, in case you haven't noticed," Eric slapped his buddy on the back.

"I know. I just have a lot on my mind today. I should've had Pete fill in," Ralph walked over to the chairs and sat down. He could feel Eric staring right at him. His back felt damp and he hoped no one noticed the sweat had started to come through the cotton shirt. What am I gonna do? It's gonna end soon, they all will find out what a phony I am. He stared across the room. His stomach tightened. He recognized Detective Bert Hunter as soon as he walked into the bowling alley with his family. What is he doing here? We're at least 100 miles from Bow Creek. Why is he here? He glanced down and saw Ralph over his pocket. Even his two tone shirt was a phony. Two colors, just like him. His dark side was hidden by the fake clean side his friends knew. Why did I use my Dad's name? Stupid.

"Ralph! Earth to Ralph. Ralph?" Joe Sweeney rested a heavy hand on Ralph's shoulder. "You, ok?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah--yeah, I'm fine. I just---um, I'm fine." He looked around. Everyone on both teams were staring at him. He wiped his hands off on his shirt again.

"You're up," Joe said. "We need a strike."

Ralph nodded. He glanced in Detective Hunter's direction. He was busy with his family and wasn't paying attention to anyone else. Please let me hit something. Not a gutter ball, but another pitiful attempt. He dragged his feet to his seat and picked up his soda. His hands were shaking as he took a sip and some of the soda slopped out of his cup onto his shirt. He looked down at the spot on his shirt. I need to get out of here, the real me is starting to come out. He glanced again toward Detective Hunter. Still busy helping his kids bowl. Ralph sighed heavily. I need to straighten up. My team thinks I'm a nut. He massaged his temples. Please let this night end.

"C'mon, tell me, what's wrong?" Eric was looking at Ralph.

"It's what you said, I'm bowling like crap tonight," Ralph tried to smile. He took a napkin and dabbed at the spot the soda had left on the bright white fabric.

Eric shook his head, "No, that's not what I mean, and you know it."

Ralph continued to work at the stain. He wondered if the stain would come out. The good Ralph hated anything to be messy. "I don't think this will wash out," he mumbled.

Eric opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when he realized someone was approaching. He stood up and stuck his hand out. "Bert, good to see you. Jane said you were visiting. Hey, this is Ralph."

In his nervous rush to stand up and greet Bert Hunter, Ralph knocked over his soda, most of it hit his pants and shirt. His whole body was hot and he felt sweat rolling down his back. Bert Hunter firmly grasped his hand and pumped it up and down. Ralph managed to nod. It was over, he was finished. He couldn't stop brushing his hands on his shirt. What a mess. I must look like a slob.

"You look like someone I know. Ever hear of Bow Creek?" Bert asked.

"N--no. I--I'm--um, from New York. Just moved here a few months ago," Ralph answered.

"Well, welcome to town. We'll see each other. My wife's sister lives here. Married?"

"Um, no. My wife died about six months ago." Ralph was sure Detective Hunter could hear his heart beating. He twisted and untwisted the bottom of his shirt.

"Well, sorry about that. Here comes the family, we better go. Good to see you, Eric." Bert Hunter grabbed one of the kids and picked her up. He waved and they walked away.

The bowling alley was nearly empty. The manager was dimming the lights. Glasses clinked as the bar tender cleaned up. Eric glared at Ralph. "Ok, what the hell is going on? Look at you. You're sweating like a pig. You're shirt is a mess. You could barely talk to Bert. You didn't bowl worth a damn. Talk to me."

Ralph's throat felt parched. He reached for his glass, then remembered it was empty. "Ok, but not here. You're going to find out, anyway."