April J. Asbury, Writer

Tag: writing exercise

Spotlight: George Ella Lyon

October 13, 2022 / / 1 Comment
Author Gurney Norman hugs George Ella Lyon with a background of green leaves.
George Ella Lyon with Gurney Norman. Photo by Ann W. Olson

This long-overdue author spotlight honors one of my favorite writers, teachers, and people in the entire world: the gracious, multitalented George Ella Lyon!

In addition to her fiction, playwriting, songwriting, and poetry, Lyon’s books for young readers are a favorite in classrooms and libraries. Her newest book, Time to Fly, illustrated by Stephanie Fizer Coleman, features a hesitant baby bird enticed to leave the cozy nest for the first time.

Lyon is a writer who understands the importance of home, as well as the power of continuing to touch lives in a larger community. When her book All the Water in the World appeared in a cereal promotion, she was thrilled to think of her book finding families at the breakfast table.

Lyon’s work has traveled the world, perhaps none more so than her poem “Where I’m From.” She developed a writing exercise used by writers, teachers, and students of all levels; this year, her work turned up in a speech given by a certain familiar professor . . . Dr. Jill Biden.

. . . for my first lesson of the year, I use the poem, “Where I’m From,” by George Ella Lyon. Its verses tell the story of the author’s hometown, not in locations, but in sensations and experiences and memories. Then I ask my students to think about their own lives: Where does their inner strength come from? What made them who they are?”

First Lady Jill Biden, Los Angeles City College Commencement, 2022

Building Creative Communities

Lyon’s creative life is rich with teachers, mentors, and friends. She gives credit to her parents’ love of story and song, her marriage to a musician (a “partner who values the creative life as much as I do”), and her children who, she says, opened her eyes and deepened her soul.

“And I can’t leave out Richard Jackson,” George Ella says, “my beloved editor, who in 1984 invited me to write for children, giving me work that I love . . .” And of course credit also goes to “all the trees who have held and counseled me.” (Appropriate, considering her 1993 poetry collection, winner of the Appalachian Book of the Year award, was titled Catalpa!)

If you ask George Ella what she would most like to celebrate, a list of supporters, teachers, and fellow creatives pours out: Ruth Stone, Danny Marion, Gurney Norman . . . “Gurney got me to Hindman,” she says, “and you know what happens when you cross that bridge!”

At Hindman Settlement School, working with Jim Wayne Miller, washing dishes at the historic Appalachian Writers’ Workshop at Hindman Settlement School with Harriette Arnow, taking part in readings and classes and friendships, George Ella says she “grew up as a writer.” Those days have given her a writing community she still enjoys today.

Below is a writing prompt from George Ella Lyon that may look a little familiar: it’s a variation of a “Map” prompt shared by Leatha Kendrick. Lyon notes she and Kendrick are fast friends. Working together leads to learning together, not just about teaching, but about writing too.

In a perfect example of an entwined creative community, this exercise grew from shared work and creative community, including the shared inspiration of Jo Carson, who published maps of herself and her body in Now & Then magazine.

Writing Prompt: Mapping Your Memory House

While both Kendrick and Lyon begin the exercise with sketches, Lyon’s version “navigates memory in a different way.” Comparing these two is a great example of adapting a prompt for different audiences.

  1. Draw the floor plan of a place where you have lived. Show where all the rooms are. Use another page if you need to.
  2. Now make a note of a memory, something that happened in each room. Include hallways, bathrooms, closets, the attic, basement and garage. Write this directly on your map.
  3. Choose the memory that has the most energy for you. 
  4. Draw the scene in that room.
  5. Put yourself back there. Who was with you? How old are you?
  6. Take a sensory inventory. What can you taste, touch, smell, hear see? Write this on your map.
  7. Can you hear anyone talking? What do they say? Is there music?
  8. Is there something in this scene that you can’t draw?
  9. Is this a moment of power? Who has it? Does it shift from on person to another?
  10. Free-write this moment. You might begin “I am in the __________.”

We comfort ourselves by reliving memories of protection. Something closed must retain our memories, while leaving them their original value as images. Memories of the outside world never have the same tonality as those of home and, by recalling these memories, we add to our store of dreams; we are never real historians, but always near poets, and an emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of poetry that was lost.

from Gaston Bachelard’s The Poetics of Space (1956, trans. Maria Jolas, 1969)

Teaching “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon

October 4, 2021 / / 1 Comment

“Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon is called “the poem that went around the world.” This poem, a favorite in all levels of writing and literature classes, is rich with specific sensory detail: a child’s fascination with clothespins, cotton ball lambs, family names, and the secret taste of dirt.

concrete road between trees
Where are you from? Photo by Craig Adderley on Pexels.com

On September 22, I contributed to a workshop called “Sharing Identities and Building Relationships,” offered as part of the “Supporting All of Us” series. The event, sponsored by Schooltalking, #USvsHate, and The Conscious Kid, featured George Ella Lyon and the National Writing Project.

Sidebar reading, "SUPPORTING ALL OF US: Teaching against Hate, Bias, Injustice through Accurate and Inclusive Teaching. A series hosted by Schooltalking, #USvsHate and The Conscious Kid"
“Supporting All of Us” series goals

These organizations came together to recommend “Where I’m From” as a way to reach across cultures, regions, and other differences, both as an expression of identity and a reminder of our common humanity. Using “Where I’m From” encourages empathy in the classroom.

The Exercise

Share a copy of “Where I’m From” with students. There are multiple recordings of George Ella Lyon reading the work. You can share a video of the author reading the poem in her own voice, bringing another living writer into your classroom.

Open the floor to as much discussion as you need for your class. (You might find yourself explaining “carbon-tetrachloride,” for example!) Then, when you’re ready, ask the students to answer, in their own way, where they are from.

Lyon’s web page gives a list of helpful ideas to build on. Ultimately she reminds us: “Remember, you are the expert on you. No one else sees the world as you do; no one else has your material to draw on. You don’t have to know where to begin. Just start. Let it flow. Trust the work to find its own form.”

If you’re a teacher, do the exercise with your class. While you work with them, you’ll uncover your own powerful images and memories. When you write with your students, the exercise becomes a shared experience of learning and connection.

In the Classroom

Lyon says the work of poet and dramatist Jo Carson helped inspire the poem. Carson’s poetry collection, Stories I Ain’t Told Nobody Yet, gathers many different voices. Each speaker reveals their cares, worries, and passions.  

Over the past 20 years, I’ve led students from elementary to graduate school in readings and exercises based on “Where I’m From.” From elementary school to college, creative writing to literature to first-year composition, this exercise continues to resonate.

Often I pair “Where I’m From” with work from other Appalachian writers whose work touches on themes of identity, the music of different voices, and connection:

Hearing voices such as Lyon, Carson, Walker, and many others opens up a class to exploring their own identity, as well as hearing and respecting the stories of others.

The nature of “Where I’m From” focuses on the intimate details of life and memory. When we connect those evocative details, with their hints of history and shared experience, with our own, we practice empathy. We could all more of that.

Spotlight: Charles A. Swanson

September 6, 2021 / / 1 Comment
Photograph portrait of Charles A. Swanson in a blue patterned shirt
Poet, teacher, and minister Charles A. Swanson

Poet Charles A. Swanson may have retired from teaching English, but he will always be a writer. An MFA graduate from Queens University, he currently publishes as a designated “Frequent Contributor” for the quarterly e-zine Songs of Eretz Poetry Review.

As a pastor for Melville Avenue Baptist in Danville, Swanson writes weekly sermons and reflections. His spirituality, including deep concern for nature and rural life, runs through his poems. “My poetry comes from a pastor’s view of the world,” Swanson says, “and, I hope, from a pastor’s heart.”

Two books and a wooden turtle on a handmade purple afghan
Books, with a “hardshell” visitor

Swanson’s lovely chapbook, Farm Life and Legend, is available from Finishing Line Press. (This book, with cover art by Drew A. Swanson, is even prettier in person.) The book brings together narratives and the witness of nature, as in “Turtles Rising.”

After the Garden: Selected Responses to the Psalms is Swanson’s full-length poetry collection from Motes Books. Seeing the words, “Responses to the Psalms,” might lead you to expect didactic, oatmeal-plain paraphrases.

But Swanson’s work is full of surprises, including wry humor and the realities of rural life. Swanson begins each poem with verses chosen for beauty of language, spiritual challenge, and unexpected connections.

Consider “The Profane and the Holy,” inspired by the verse, “He who has clean hands and a pure heart . . .” And subtitled “Hog killing on the day before Thanksgiving.” This concise poem mingles the spiritual resonance of the verse with powerful, bloody imagery.

Writing Exercises: Image as Gateway

For this spotlight, Swanson provided two exercises involving imagery. As he says, “Imagery can evoke emotions, and be the horse on which intriguing narrative rides.”

Both exercises have been classroom-tested in secondary school English for years. Swanson had great success with first-years, sophomores, juniors, and seniors . . . And I bet they’d translate well in other levels, too.

The “Scentsational” Experience

  • Take 12 lidded Styrofoam cups. Place a strong-smelling everyday substance in each. Substance can be solid or liquid. (Make sure to avoid known or common allergens, such as peanut butter!)
  • Ask the students, by smell only, to make their best guess about each cup’s contents.
  • After all the sniffing is over, guessing, and debating is over, the instructor identifies each cup.
  • Then the students are asked to choose one scent. (They can choose any of the 12, another strong scent tied to memory, or even their misidentification of a cup’s contents.)
  • Now write about how the smell figures in memory.

Swanson warns the excitement of the exercise may not lead to the most literary poetry, but you’re going to see an entire classroom come to life.

More “Hands-On” Learning

  • Give each student one piece of white bread from an ordinary loaf of store-bought bread.
  • Ask them to remove the crust. (Some ask if they can eat the crust; Swanson says he always allowed it, but in days of Covid use your best judgment.)
  • Squeeze a generous amount of white school glue on each student’s crustless slice of bread.
  • Work the bread and glue into a putty.
  • Show the students how to shape the “clay” into rose petals
  • Press the rose petals gently onto the end of a toothpick and allow to set. After it hardens, students can paint the rose if they choose.
  • After experiencing the changing texture of that sticky paste, ask them to write about any experience they remember involving a strong sense of touch.

For an example of how this exercise can bring out memories turned to poetry, Swanson offers a poem from the Spring 2021 issue of Songs of Eretz Poetry Review. His poem, “What would I put my hand in?” is an obvious response, but I’d bet his poem “Afghan,” from the same issue, would spark a lot of tactile images too.

Make one, two, three, ninety squares–
somewhere in there the shape
becomes rote, as do the twists
of wrist, the slide of yarn
over the finger holding taut
the thread and emerging weave.

from “Afghan” by Charles A. Swanson, published in Songs of Eretz

Why Do You Write?

August 23, 2021 / / 0 Comments

This summer I’m cleaning out the house my parents shared for almost 40 years together. The dusty work is backbreaking (and heartbreaking), but I keep finding treasures along the way.

In one box, I found college work from both my parents. I found essays, notes, folklore projects . . . And random little assignments like this one, an essay my mother wrote for English 301 at Radford University.

While Mom didn’t always call herself a “Writer,” she loved writing . . . Except when she didn’t. (And I think that sounds familiar to a lot of us.)

“On Writing,” An Essay by Jo Ann Aust Asbury

Portrait of Jo Ann Asbury smiling
Jo Ann Aust Asbury, 1947-2013

The clean, white, unmarred surface sits there waiting. The first words are often the hardest; will it be easier this time? Will you paint a picture in your reader’s mind? Will the words have color and texture?

You will be putting yourself on display, exposing your thoughts and innermost feelings to an audience. Will they care? Will they criticize? Or will they enjoy and perhaps laugh a little?

Sometimes the words come out dull and muted—drab olive greens, muddy browns, and slate grays. Sometimes instead of gliding smoothly over the page, they come in bits and pieces. The jigsaw puzzle comes together bit by painful bit; one piece fitting here, another there, some pieces never fitting anywhere.

You plod along, adding a piece here, scratching out a word there, changing and substituting and revising. Again, and again, and yet again.

Some pieces are jagged with sharp angles and corners. Putting them together needs thought and sweat, even tears. Finally the pieces fit together, lifeless words transformed into a clear image in your mind—and your reader’s mind too.

Ah, but the other times! If the mood is right, the words flow like a silver stream, smooth and effortless. Words and images form a beloved child—perfect, needing only to grow. Words jump and jabber at you, demanding you let them out.

open book on brown and red leaves
Photo by lilartsy on Pexels.com

Quick! Write it all down fast before the miracle disappears in the whirl of new words and images bouncing and jouncing along behind it. Then everything falls into place. Words that tumbled like bright leaves in the wind settle in a colorful mosaic on the white paper.

All that is left is to rake them a little, neatening your piles. Some leaves are golden, full and gleaming and just right. Others are cinnamon-brown, crisp and crackling. Red leaves glow rich and lively. Some are still green.

And when you have smoothed and raked and painted again, you have a portrait in words. Your word child, your leaf pile, your sharp-edged puzzle has grown and developed into something that gives pleasure to your readers and yourself.

Writing Prompt: Why Do You Write Again?

This short essay “On Writing” responds to a professor’s assignment. But other writers recommend a similar starting point. Natalie Goldberg, famous for Writing Down the Bones, suggests answering that question: “Why do I write?”

Answer it. Answer it in detail. Answer it again. Answer it until your answers get silly and weird. Keep going. See what surprises you; discover what hurts; see what makes you laugh.

If you’re in a dry spell, flip the question on its head. “Why DON’T I write?” Again, answer as many times as you can. Push through and keep going. No corrections, no edits, just work.

Either way, you’re writing.

Spotlight: Leatha Kendrick

August 10, 2021 / / 1 Comment
Author Leatha Kendrick in a bright scarf and oak-leaf earrings
Author Leatha Kendrick, photograph by Kevin Nance

In July, the Highland Summer Conference at Radford University hosted two powerhouse poets: Diane Gilliam and Leatha Kendrick. While this visit was Kendrick’s first to the HSC, she has a prolific creative career as a writer, teacher, presenter, and workshop leader.

Recently Kendrick released her fifth book of poetry, And Luckier, through Accents Publishing, which praises it as “her bravest, most mature work.” Additional praise from Molly Peacock, Kathleen Driskell, Pauletta Hansel, and Sherry Chandler follows, but perhaps George Ella Lyon describes And Luckier most aptly: this is “a mature poet’s reckoning.”

Cover of And Luckier, Kendrick's most recent book
Cover for And Luckier

In addition to And Luckier, Kendrick’s other publications include Almanac of the Invisible, Second Opinion, Science in Your Own Backyard, and Heart Cake, as well as a whole slew of journals and anthologies. The first time I encountered her work was in The Southern Poetry Anthology, Volume III: Contemporary Appalachia, an outstanding collection of modern regional authors.

Below is one of Kendrick’s favorite writing exercises, a prompt that brings together writing, drawing, and memory for potent results. (Note for teachers: this exercise works for poetry as well as essays; if you need a “starter” for a personal experience narrative, “Map the House” is gold!)

Here’s “Map the House,” as used by Leatha Kendrick, in her own words. Used with permission.

Writing Exercise: Map the House

In The Poetics of Space, Gaston Bachelard asserts “the houses that are lost forever continue to live on in us: . . . they insist in us in order to live again.”

I first did this exercise at the Appalachian Writers Workshop sometime in the late 1980’s. It may have been Jo Carson who gave us the assignment. Other writers of my acquaintance (George Ella Lyon, in particular) have used their own variations on this prompt to generate powerful and surprising writing.

Here it is: an exercise to help you write more vividly about the “housed” memories of your life.

  1. Sketch a floorplan of a house or room that is important to you.
  2. In each area of the map, place the objects that come to mind.
  3. Label each object or piece of furniture with sensory memories or events they bring to mind. “The kitchen smelled of bacon grease (or cardamom or coffee) . . .
  4. Note any actions or voices or phrases that come up.
  5. When you are ready, start writing. Try to write quickly, without too much thought. Don’t second-guess, even if you think you are going “off topic.” Trust whatever comes. If you don’t remember something, say, “I don’t remember . . .” or “I wonder why . . .” and keep writing.

Remember: Writing is an act of discovery.

We are likely to vividly remember moments, single instances, and often in a more sensory than verbal way. In other words, our most vivid memories are likely to be ones we have not yet narrated for ourselves, rather than the stories we’ve been told or the “facts” about our lives. Our bodies store memories in our skin, our noses, our nerves, our bones – and not only in our brains.

We know more than we think we remember.

The things we have forgotten are housed.
Our soul is an abode and by remembering houses and rooms,
we learn to abide within ourselves.

Gaston Bachelard

Spotlight: Marilou Awiakta

July 6, 2021 / / 1 Comment

This spotlight celebrates a long-time friend of writers, teachers, and students throughout the region. The work of Marilou Awiakta, an author of rich Cherokee and Appalachian heritage, remains relevant. Her messages of respect–for the environment, for others, and for oneself–are vital, necessary, and hopeful.

Awiakta’s 1978 book, Abiding Appalachia: Where Mountain and Atom Meet, includes themes she will explore throughout her life. As a child, Awiakta truly lived on “the atomic frontier”: Oak Ridge, Tennessee, a town dedicated to developing the atomic bomb.

Pile of different editions of Abiding Appalachia and Selu
Copies of Selu and Abiding Appalachia

Abiding Appalachia illuminates a childhood full of science and secrets. These wonders are braided with reflections on heritage, Cherokee belief and history . . . From “Cemetery Folks” to “Star Vision,” from lucid prose to rhythmic poetry, Awiakta braids these elements into a cohesive whole.

This hybrid form appears again in Selu: Seeking the Corn Mother’s Wisdom. Little Deer, the “small white chief of the deer,” fills Abiding Appalachia with his luminous energy. (He’s the deer leaping through the whirling atom on the cover,) In Selu appears the powerful figure of the Corn Mother, guide and provider. Both Little Deer and Selu teach, in their own ways, the importance of respect: respect for the providers, for the natural world, for family, and for the stories that teach and unite.

Awiakta frequently visits Virginia, presenting and reading at the Highlander Literary Festival and leading workshops for the Highland Summer Conference.

A woman in blue sits with Marilou Awiakta. Both share a single flowered shawl.
“Shawl sisters”: Jo Ann Aust Asbury with Marilou Awiakta in Radford

Her interviews and readings are online in the Radford University Digital Collection. (Hearing her–and reciting and even dancing with her–makes a special experience!)

Today Awiakta’s work is being introduced to new audiences. Her alma mater, the University of Tennessee, celebrated her work in a virtual event now accessible online. She donated her papers to the Betsey B. Creekmore Special Collections and University Archives, ensuring that future students and writers will experience her work in new ways.

Recently USA Today selected Awiakta for their Women of the Century list. Joining other Tennesseeans such as Maxine Smith and Dolly Parton, Awiakta is celebrated as an “award-winning writer” who draws “the curtain back on this turning point in U.S. and world history.”

Awiakta’s life is intimately connected with the birth of the atomic age, her recovery of her Cherokee heritage, and the immediate need for protecting the environment. She truly is a woman of the century, and her work points our way to the future.

Marilou Awiakta’s “Three-Times Vision”

Understanding rarely comes with the first quick glance. For deeper understanding, Awiakta says some Cherokee believe in looking at something three times:

Look once with the left eye,
then once with the right eye,
then once from the corner of your eye to discern the spirit.

The first glance and the second glance get “the actual, the tangible clearly in mind,” while the third look involves both sense and spirit. The deeper understanding, Awiakta says, requires patience and stillness, a readiness to see from multiple perspectives. 

The writing exercise below is one version of a favorite prompt Awiakta used at Radford University. Try filling in the blanks, and you will have three different perspectives of a vivid memory. Put yourself in that special memory, and then answer the following.

  • I hear . . .
  • I feel . . .
  • I remember . . .

Bonus: A Little Advice from Awiakta

Below are just a few notes from Awiakta’s writing workshops. While this advice was originally intended for poets, all writers can benefit, especially from #4. The theme of “respect” runs through all of Awiakta’s work, so respect your work, respect yourself, and respect your readers, too.

  1. Cut adverbs. Words that end with “-ly” can destroy the rhythm of a poem.
  2. Cut pronouns.  Join sentences together.
  3. Don’t explain as you go or preach at the end.
  4. Less is more.  Trust your readers!

Photograph Writing Exercise: Zoom In, Zoom Out

July 1, 2021 / / 0 Comments

This week I’ve been sorting through a box of photographs. The women in my family were always “keepers,” keeping all kinds of photographs, letters, and ephemera. But as they grew older–or, in the case of my grandmother and aunt, developed dementia–they tossed these keepsakes and mementos in boxes, mixed up, or tacked them willy-nilly in photo albums.

Old photo of boy wearing letter sweater
Uncle Norman, is that you?

Sorting through them now brings up a lot of memories–or, in some cases, discoveries. Is this freckle-faced kid in a “Dublin Dukes” sweater my dignified Uncle Norman? Who is this strange guy posing with my teenaged grandmother? And why is Dad wearing that kimono?

Old photographs provide rich prompts. Dozens of prewriting exercises start with pictures. During the 2018 Highland Summer Conference, author Crystal Wilkinson gave a writing exercise based on family photographs.

Before digging in, however, she asked us to read a famous (and heart-rending) example: “I Go Back to May 1937” by Sharon Olds. The poem begins like a basic writing exercise. First look at an old photo, then write the words, “I see them . . .” After this start, Olds gives us vivid description: 

. . . I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the   
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head . . .

Description unfolds into context and background: “they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,  / they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are   / innocent, they would never hurt anybody.” (What a perfect time to break the old “rule” of “Show, don’t tell.” In this case, the “telling” makes the poem.) Then she evokes the terrible miracle of her parents marriage–their suffering, the pain they inflict, her own existence.

Below is my version of some of these popular writing prompts. Feel free to try it out, and let me know if it works for you.

Fashionable young woman in foreground of a busy sidewalk
Note on back reads “Fay in Baltimore.” What details do you notice? Could there be a story here?

Zoom In, Zoom Out

Find a photograph you’d like to spend time with. You can be part of the photo or not; the photo can be of friends and families or complete strangers. Set aside at least ten minutes for sections 1-3. Remember this exercise is for prewriting, so don’t worry about making it “perfect.”

  1. Describe the photo in front of you as objectively as you can. Pretend you are an outsider; what is actually visible? (Pay special attention to color, shadows, location, clothing, expressions, etc.) Be detailed, and take as much time as you need.
  2. Now zoom in. Describe the scene as an insider would. Who are these people? What are they doing? (It’s OK to use your imagination.)
  3. Now zoom out. See beyond the camera lens. What is outside the picture frame? If you were standing behind the camera, what would you see if you turned your head? What might you hear, feel, smell?
  4. Zoom in even closer. What is the “secret” behind this photograph? What is something only the subject(s) would know?
Little girls in dresses at a picnic. One makes a face while holding a balloon.
Are we even related? Who knows. It’s still a great photo. Happy Fourth!

Spotlight: B. Chelsea Adams

June 24, 2021 / / 1 Comment

This is my first “Spotlight”: a series (I hope) of posts about favorite regional writers, their works, and their favorite “getting started” exercises. Today I’d like to turn a spotlight on an excellent writer, teacher, and mentor, B. Chelsea Adams.

Portrait of B. Chelsea Adams in front of trees.
B. Chelsea Adams

Chelsea was born in Fairfield, Connecticut, and she has spent much of her life in southwest Virginia. She earned an M.A. in English and Creative Writing from Hollins College (Hollins University today), working with writers such as R.H.W. Dillard.

For many years she taught at Radford University; I met her through my mother, Jo Ann Aust Asbury, as they taught in the English department. Chelsea’s friendship and her generosity with her gifts has left an expansive legacy within the creative community. Writers have blossomed in her writing groups, flourishing in a rich creative company.

Chelsea’s work runs from the elegiac to the playful, the contemplative to the sensual. Consider some of the titles from her Sow’s Ear Press collection, Looking for a Landing: “Chaos Theory,” “Aesthetics of Dying” . . . And, in contrast, the simply-titled “Bike Ride” and “Cows.”

It’s hard not to love her slender chapbook, Java Poems. This elegant book is a paean to the writer’s elixir of life: Coffee! The truly fortunate have been lucky enough to see Chelsea perform her “java poems” live, beatnik style, complete with beret and the jazz accompaniment of her husband, Bill.

Chelsea’s poetry collection At Last Light is available from Finishing Line Press. Both her fiction and poetry regularly appears in Floyd County Moonshine, including their most recent issue. Her 2020 novel, Organic Matter, promises “romance and roadkill” and is currently available on Amazon.

The Sure-Fire Poetry Exercise

Below is a “sure-fire” exercise from B. Chelsea Adams. Answering its deceptively-simple questions will put you “in place,” giving you a quick path to concrete imagery and creative experssion.

Answer these four questions.  (The answers can be real or made-up.)

  1. Where are you?  (But you can’t say, “I am . . .”)
  2. What are you doing?  (You can’t say, “I am . . .”)
  3. What are you thinking or feeling?  (Don’t say, “I am . . .” or “I think/feel . . .”)
  4. What do you see?  (But don’t say, “I see . . .”)

And that’s it! Have fun, and see if it’s “sure-fire” for you, too!

© APRIL J. ASBURY, 2021-2023. Unauthorized use or duplication of material without express written permission from this site’s author is prohibited. Excerpts and links must provide full, clear credit to April J. Asbury with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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