Browsing the monsterweb, it’s easy to realise that a lot of people out there want to try their hand at writing, but don’t know where to begin. So, here’s the first in a brief series of quick, 100 word writing exercises for you to try.
Take a look at this picture…
Now, in approximately 100 words, write about it in as exciting and compelling way as you can. Who is this man? Why is he running? Is he running to something or from someone? It’s up to you.
Post your 100 words in the comments thread. There’s no prize – except for becoming a slightly better writer, of course!
More quick writing exercises coming soon…
04/09/2009 at 10:08 am Permalink
There is always a feeling of discomfort when you step down into the poorly lit graffiti pit that is the public underpass. It stinks, the smell emanates from suspect liquids streaking the walls and floors. You start to pick out all sorts of noises you wouldn’t notice normally. You’re completely out of your comfort zone, in the place where shadows attack you.
And they do attack. He was running from them; the shadows were trying to kill him. They were hungry. He was wildly looking around for daylight, a way out. Then before him stood a man in a florescent jacket, his thumbs tucked into a bulletproof vest. Now he remembered. It wasn’t the shadows he was running from…
“Give us the spray paint mate. You’re nicked!”
Grrr…100 words is so hard…I had to cut that from 170 and still it’s 130.
04/09/2009 at 4:45 pm Permalink
He had seen me do it. As the man started walking towards security I began to walk briskly towards the exit. As soon as I was out of the doors, I broke into a run. Behind me, I heard shouting and the heavy foot falls of the security guards trying to catch up with me. I skidded round the corner and shrank into the shadows. My prize was still in my pocket. I pulled it out and studied it. The jewels glittered in the light. ‘Finally’ I thought to myself, ‘It’s mine’. As the guards rounded the corner, I dissappeared.
Exactly 100 words If my counting’s right.
It’s quite hard. Throw any thing you’ve got at me and I’ll be ready for it!!!!
04/09/2009 at 5:19 pm Permalink
that is well gd
06/09/2009 at 4:43 pm Permalink
He was running. The killers were after him. He was the PM’s son. His dad had refused to pull his troops out of war. He was making everyones lives a misery. The PM had refused to listen so he was going to pay the price. His son was going to bear the brunt of it though. He was racing along the London Underground. The killer brought out his sword. A kantana. The killer swung it down the blade gleaming in the florecesent lighting. The PMs son doged the blade. He wasn’t going to die in such a humiliating way. BANG.
Sorry for the cliffhanger ending. 100 words is very hard but 100 words you got. I love the blog. Oh and don’t worry I’ve got a search party coming for you authors. Hang on in there!
27/10/2009 at 5:15 am Permalink
He was running round and round and round a flourescent disco carousel like a hamster trapped on a wheel. A hamster who, every time he looked to the left or right saw masked goons holding automatic weapons and pointing them at his head. He was a hamster and he was running. It had been this way since they had captured him trying to break into the building. A failed attempt to infiltrate, to rescue his lost love. And now she was there too, holding a gun, shaking her head, laughing slightly. His knees were weakening. His calf muscles ached. He stumbled. A shot was fired, kicking up concrete dust beside him. “Keep running,” he heard. He was another deluded lover, trapped for her amusement. Keep running.
(126w) (Thanks!)
10/11/2009 at 9:33 pm Permalink
He knew he had to keep going. There was a light ahead which seemed to promise the presence of others in the empty building. He knew they couldn’t save him, wouldn’t even try. Who would stand in front of a seething giant, clearly hell bent on murder. At least they would witness his death; describe his killer. At best he could hope to spit out a few words that might help the police to solve his murder.
He couldn’t believe that others hadn’t already come. On the desolate platform the noise was deafening. The thudding footsteps behind him, which were definitely getting closer rebounded harshly and seemed to shake the very building. The cacophony of sounds of his own body threatened to paralyse him. He could hear the thrashing of the acid in his stomach, his heart throbbed loudly throughout his body and his mind seemed to be screaming Why Why . But he knew why; this had always been his destiny.