You’re curled up in your favorite writing chair with your computer nestled comfortably in your lap. Yes! You are ready to write. You are dying to enter that contest or submit a story to that magazine—whatever. Write your brains out! You’re sure that the words will start rushing out any minute and that you will be ready to catch them. Here they come . . . any minute now . . . you’re still waiting. Aargh! Nothing’s happening!
You’ve probably already heard the dreaded term writer’s block. It happens when writers just can’t get their writing to go right or even put pencil to paper. One writer described it as “staring at a blank piece of paper that stares right back at me in silence.” Some writers, like Dean Koontz, Todd Strasser, Laurie Halse Anderson, and Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, are very methodical and produce a new book (or more) every year or two. Other authors take much longer. But every author experiences writer’s block—the feeling that your mind is as dry as the Mojave Desert! If you get stuck, don’t worry. You’re in good company. Just like any writer, you will have to figure out a way to get past it. A great way to leap past your writer’s block is to try some fun writing exercises. Try one of these and you will feel better fast and have pages of lovely words to show for it.
Have you ever heard of a stage prompt? During a play, there is always one person with a copy of the script who sits in front of the stage and whispers lines to actors who forget what they’re supposed to say next. This is called prompting. All an actor usually needs is the first few words of his speech, and then he’s off and running. A writing prompt works the same way. It gives you the start of an idea to take off from in your own writing. Here are some writing prompts that will easily help you get unstuck fast:
Write a fairy tale, from a character’s point of view, that explains his or her personal issues (which you will invent). For example, you could become the wolf in “Three Little Pigs” who just wants the pigs to stop building on his front lawn. Or the mouse in “Cinderella” who feels ridiculous to be all dressed up in human clothes and driving a pumpkin. Or Grumpy the Dwarf whose chronic depression is made worse when that dumb girl invades his house.
Warm up your creative muscles by writing a review of the last movie, concert, or sports game that you saw. Write about not only your opinion, but about how the audience around you reacted.
Take yourself on a field trip and interview someone in your town: a firefighter, gas station owner, school custodian, EMT, or mail carrier. Jot down a few simple questions ahead of time, like, “What gave you the idea to do this job?” “Was it tough at first?” “What do you like about it?” “Have you learned anything about our town as a result of your job?” “What advice would you have for young people who might want to go into your field?” Then just listen and take as many notes as you can.
Jemma Leech is a British Texan. At age thirteen, while at school in Houston, she pursued her passions of writing, reading, and going on adventures. She wrote this article on Gary Paulsen in 2009.
“Read Like a Wolf Eats,” Gary Paulsen
Tells Young Readers
Journalism
Gary Paulsen balances his cap on his head. Pulling the peak down over his clear blue eyes, he appears to be shielding them from the glare of public attention as much as from the bright lights of the Pershing auditorium. This man is the author of 200 books and the winner three times of the Newbery Honor, yet he looks more like a cross between Daniel Boone, Captain Ahab, and Santa.
Best known for tales of wilderness survival and husky dogsled races, he writes from his own experiences. As a young boy in Minnesota, with a difficult home life, he took to the woods to trap game and to fish, just to get food to live. These skills form the basis of the Hatchet series in which a boy has to learn to survive in the wilderness after a plane crash.
Paulsen said, “I have done everything I wrote about in Hatchet—trapping, fishing, hunting, even two forced landings in planes. In the woods I was cool, I was the man.”
He even offers tips to potential survivalists. “Beaver is the best meat of all—it tastes like beef but with 37 percent protein. Beef only has about 25 percent.”
He completed two Iditarods, the grueling 1,100-mile dogsled race across Alaska, and was devoted to one of his lead dogs, Cookie, in particular.
“Cookie was the best thing that ever happened to me; she saved my life several times. I have a picture of Cookie in my wallet, but not one of my wife. Go figure!”
Smiling at the memory, he recalls that it was during his time training and racing the dogs that he wrote his three Newbery Honor books, Dogsong (1985), Hatchet (1987), and The Winter Room (1989). So does he write from the back of the dogsled? Almost.
“I write all the time, wherever I am—on an airplane, in the kennels, on the boat, at my ranch. I carry my laptop with me all the time and when that’s not practical, I write longhand on pads of paper. I’m a writer who runs dogs; I’m a writer who sails. I’m a writer—it’s what I do, it’s who I am.”
Jack-of-all-trades in life and in writing, Paulsen writes books ranging from adventure stories like Hatchet to historical settings like his newest book, Woods Runner, set during America’s war of independence. He also writes humor, with the follow-up to Lawn Boy, his tale of economic success in a twelve-year-old’s lawn-mowing business, published this spring. So which does he prefer, humor or drama?
“Writing is about work and about love, whether it’s humor or drama, and I don’t find one easier than the other. Alternating them makes for a nice change of pace, but I never decide to write a funny or a serious book. I just start writing and it becomes what it is.”
Paulsen is keen to pass on his own wild brand of advice to young writers too. “Read like a wolf eats. Read everything you can get your hands on and write every single day. The discipline of reading and writing every day will be valuable.”
So whether he is running his snow dogs, sailing the high seas, or surviving in the wild woods, Gary Paulsen is first and foremost a writer. “I write because I love to write. I would write even if I didn’t get published. I will die writing.”
His legion of readers hopes that won’t be for a very long time. Gary Paulsen gave his readers’ talk in the Pershing auditorium as part of the literary organization Inprint’s Cool Brains! series. For more information, visit inprinthouston.org/cool-brains-series.
Make a list of at least ten secrets, wishes, and/or problems that your friends have. Next, create two fictional characters and give each of them one of these secrets, wishes, or problems. Finally, write a dialogue between your two characters. Write it like a script, using initials for the character’s names and starting a new line each time there’s a new speaker. Don’t write any description or background; just write what they say to each other. Make their words express their secrets, wishes, or problems.
Although acrostic might sound like a disease, it’s actually guaranteed to fill up a page with writing! An acrostic poem starts with a word, phrase, or name—it could be your name, a character in a book, or even your favorite cookie.
Write the word down the left side of your page, one letter at a time on each line. This is your poem’s spine word. Then use the letter on each line as the first letter of the first word on that line, and keep writing after that word to complete the line. Don’t worry about making your poem rhyme. It just needs to relate to your spine word. Lines can run from one line to the next, so each line doesn’t have to be a complete sentence. Here are a few samples. Look for the spine words:
Animals are irresistible
Nothing beats their furry little faces
Impossible not to love
Must be animals!
Adorable, everyone wants one . . .
Lost in their own dream world all day long.
—Antonia Sohns, age 12
Powerful words written together,
Often staying in a person’s heart forever
Even if they are not wanted. Poems are like
Music to the heart and food for the
Soul.
—Zoe Novendster, age 13
A fable is a story that usually has animal characters and a lesson at the end. Remember the story about the tortoise and the hare? That’s a fable. The hare is fast, but overconfident that he will win the race. The tortoise is slow, but persistent and humble. When the tortoise wins the race, the moral is “Slow and steady wins the race.”
You can write your own fable using animals with human characteristics. Start with a wise saying (such as “Look before you leap,” “A fool and his money are soon parted,” and so on) and build your story from there. Consider which animals would best represent the human virtues and vices you’ve chosen: a fox could be sly, an owl wise, a sheep dumb, a butterfly concerned with beauty, and so on.
Another way to create your own fable is to write a story about something that happened to you in real life, but replace the people with animals that have the best and worst characteristics of the real people involved. By turning a true story into an animal fable, you can say almost anything you want. Just be sure to change the names, or your sister Anna may not be too happy when she reads your fable “Anna the Annoying Aardvark”!
An abstract concept is something you can’t use your senses to perceive; you can’t touch it, taste it, smell it, hear it, or see it. Anger, love, greed, envy, happiness, value, selfishness, thoughtfulness, and rudeness are just a few abstract concepts. Pick an abstract concept and make it come alive—make it a character with a name and an appearance. This character should totally represent the abstract concept through his other appearances, actions, and speeches. Then have your abstract character join a baseball team, lunch table, or trip to the mall. Tell the story from there. How does this person affect everyone around him? What kinds of trouble might he get into?
A variation on this idea is to bring a season to life. What if Summer, the new girl in school, strolled into your homeroom one wintry morning. What would happen? Or how about a land where each season lives? The season’s personality and appearance could match its season—Summer might be warm and loving, while Winter is icy and distant. Just think of the interesting conflicts that could arise!
A memoir is a story based on a memory. Think of a story from your own childhood, especially a really funny, sad, or scary one. When you write it down, tell it as clearly as you can, even if you can’t remember every detail. Write in the first person (“I remember . . .”) or the third person (“Cathy woke up that morning . . .”). Write as much as you can, as fast as you can. Next, go back and add a few conversations and details, like colors, smells, and sounds. You will be amazed at how official your little story sounds now—the one you’ve known so well that it never seemed worth writing down. Until now. . .
An ode is a long, formal poem that is meant to be a serious song of praise. Odes usually praise a person, thing, or idea that is highly distinguished or admirable. Odes also have a reputation for being serious, intellectual, and . . . well . . . stuffy. That’s why writing an un-stuffy ode about something completely ordinary can be lots of fun. Award-winning poet Pablo Neruda once wrote a wonderful poem called “Ode to My Socks.” In it, he describes his socks in great detail, as well as his thoughts about the person who knitted them.
You can choose something or someone that you know very well, and write a poem or prose poem (a poem in paragraph form that doesn’t rhyme) that goes into great detail about it. You don’t have to gush; just point out the traits you think deserve praise. Although it isn’t necessary to rhyme, you should try to use some formal words (“thou dost” = “you do,” “thou art” = “you are,” “enwrapped” = “wrapped up,” and so on) to contrast with the not-so-formal subject of your poem. Here are some ode ideas to get you started:
Ode to . . .
• My Running Shoes
• My Math Teacher
• My Teddy Bear
• My Skateboard
• Final Exams
• My Cat
• Little Brothers
• Flannel Pajamas
• The Cartoon Network
Well, you will get mail if you send some first! Write a letter to your favorite author or politician about an issue that’s important to you. It’s pretty exciting to get a letter back from the president of the United States, a member of the U.S. Senate, Jodi Picoult, or Nathaniel Philbrick—and we know lots of kids who have!
Be sure to include your name and address in the top right-hand corner of the page, plus your full name and signature at the bottom of the letter. Visit personal websites to see if they have a P.O. box to send mail to or even a Q&A email address to send your thoughts to. Or you can send author letters to their publishers. You’ll find the publisher’s address inside the author’s book, on the copyright page (usually on the back side of the title page). To find addresses for government officials, check online.
In your letter, don’t be afraid to state your true opinion, even if you didn’t like part of an author’s book or you disagree with a politician’s beliefs on a certain issue. But remember to always be respectful or the reader won’t finish reading your letter and your efforts will be wasted.
In a letter to an author, you might write:
• about your favorite books by that author
• why you like those particular books best
• questions about the author’s characters or plots
• questions about how the author got certain ideas
• why you like to write—and ask for advice!
• a thank you for writing such books and for reading your letter
In a letter to a politician, you might write:
• about an issue that concerns you
• why you are concerned about it
• how you got interested in the issue
• what you think the politician should do about it
• questions about what the politician has already done on that issue
• a thank you for considering your ideas
Each of these exercises requires a prop that can be found anywhere: a photo, a pet rock, or a good people-watching spot. This time, the prop is the key that will unlock your creativity. Follow these directions and you’ll be writing fabulous stories before you know it!
A photograph is a story frozen in time, just waiting for someone to release it. You can be that someone! Look through your own photo albums, magazines, or postcards. Choose a photo and climb into it, walk around in it, and imagine as many details as you can. If there are people in your photo, become one of them. What are you thinking? What just happened?
Write from different points of view: the third person (“It was so hot the maple leaves drooped. Maggie sat under her tree and untied her sneakers . . . ”), the first person (“It was so hot that day the leaves on my thinking tree drooped straight down. I sat in its shade and took off my sneakers to cool down.”), or both . . . some surprising things might surface!
Copying the style of your favorite author isn’t always cheating. It can even be a great help for getting started with your writing. Try looking at the first few paragraphs of a favorite book. Choose three sentences and copy them, substituting new names and mostly new verbs, nouns, adjectives, and adverbs. Keep the basic sentence structure the same. Here’s an example from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland:
Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do . . . when suddenly a white rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her. There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I shall be late!” But when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of his waistcoat pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet . . .
And here’s a new version, with names, verbs, and so on changed (the new words are in italics):
Jason was beginning to get very bored of sitting by his stepfather on the bench, and of throwing stale bread to some dirty old pigeons . . . when suddenly a black squirrel with blue eyes ran across his sneaker. There was nothing sooooo weird about that; nor did Jason think it sooooo strange to hear the squirrel say to itself in an angry voice, “Oh yeah, sure, that’s just what we need!!” But when the squirrel actually pulled a cell phone out of its fanny pack, flipped it open, started to mumble into it, and scampered on, Jason jumped to his feet.
In the first version, Lewis Carroll draws us into his fascinating story in just a few lines. The new story has some similarities, but it’s clear we’re in new territory—a new character and plot are being hatched. Keep going after you’ve written these first few sentences, using your author as a model whenever you’d like.
This technique is like learning to ride a bike: At first, you need someone to hold the back of your seat. But once you get going, you can do it all by yourself. Once you’ve gotten started, let go of the original author’s plot and characters, and let your story go off on its own adventure.
Want to write a poem but can’t think of any good words or phrases? Try stealing some! This is actually legal—and expected!—when you write found poetry. (Of course, you have to acknowledge your source with a citation at the end of the poem.) This technique is a lot like those magnetic poetry kits, but you use paper and scissors (or the cut-and-paste function on your computer).
The idea behind writing found poems is to find language that is NOT trying to be poetic and reshape it into your own poem. Look for writing in textbooks, appliance directions, or boring newspaper articles. Once you’ve chosen a piece of writing to work with, copy down thirty to eighty words and/or phrases by hand or on your computer. Next, cut out the words and phrases and start rearranging them in front of you, keeping words you like and discarding those you don’t like. Eventually you’ll see your words shaping themselves into new meanings and ideas.
Your poem doesn’t have to rhyme or have a specific rhythm. Feel free to change verb tenses, change endings to singular or plural, and change pronouns to fit he/she or they/them/it kinds of problems. You can repeat lines, words, or phrases as you see fit, and you can insert or change punctuation to help your reader understand your meaning.
Although strict found poems require that you not add any words, this is your poem, after all, so allow yourself two new words. But only two. Give your found poem a title and put your name at the bottom of the poem and be sure to write where you found the words. Here are a few found poems written by kids:
Learning a Language
The future of Latin in the United States
Relies on this book.
Enlightened upper grades in our elementary school have
All rights reserved
Even those who recognize the wisdom
Of justification
Our own experience in school
Was bad
So we want to make it
As bad for you
Here in the most difficult
To understand Latin Book
Ever written
Have FUN
And remember
Modern Languages don’t mean anything
LATIN IS LIFE.
—Sam Sack, age 13
(From the preface to Preparatory Latin Book I, 2nd edition by
William J. Buehner & John Ambrose. NY: Longman, 1977.)
The Wonderful World of Plastic
We see plastic objects every day
Dishes and bowls
A toy and garden hose.
Drying or cooling
It will retain shape.
Plastic—natural
Clay, glass, and rubber
From pine trees and nitric acid
More practical than a surgeon
With some kind of knife.
Plastic in a toothbrush company
And in buttons and combs.
Plastics, the man-made miracle.
—Mary Charlotte Borgen, age 13
(Words were taken from Plastics: The Man-Made Miracle by Walter
Buehr. NY: William Morrow & Co., 1967.)
Use your journal. Okay, this tidbit of advice comes as no surprise, but this time, try using it in a new way. Read through it with a highlighter in hand, highlighting words and phrases that are especially strong, surprising, or beautiful. If you’re using a computer, you can electronically highlight the phrases with color or copy and paste them into a new document. Make a list of these “jewels” and use a few in a poem, as the key words in the first sentence of a story, or as part of a dialogue for a character in a story.
Rocks are like snowflakes—no two are alike. And for you, no two have the same story. Go outside and find a rock about the size of your fist. Look at it carefully and turn it over in your hands. Think about what might be inside if you were able to crack it open. Imagine you could shrink and walk on and into your rock—what would you see? Write down the details of your rock world. Describe the environment, any creatures that live there, how they survive, how they communicate. Keep going—this kind of thing can get pretty magical . . . for just a rock!
When you write about a character, you are actually putting on a mask and creating his or her voice and movements and feelings. Sometimes a real mask can get you going in directions you never considered. Look around your house, ask friends, or visit a party or costume shop and find a few interesting masks.
Put your mask on, look at yourself in the mirror, and start talking in your new persona (role). Write down what your character might say if talking to others. Then write what she might say to herself—the truth about how she feels about herself and what she must do in her life. Use this character and your observations as the basis of a story.
Take a favorite book and write a chapter that the author left out. You might focus on a minor character, giving readers his point of view, or you might reveal behind-the-scenes details that you create. You could come up with a surprising new short story. In television, this is called a spin-off.
A variation on this idea is to write a new prologue (events that happened before the story begins) or epilogue (a summary of everything that happens to each character after the book ends) for the famous story.
Lots of people enjoy this sort of writing, often called fan fiction. There are many websites where teens and adults share their fan-fiction stories and give each other feedback. If you find a group of people online sharing fan-fiction stories about your favorite book and would like to join in, just remember to be safe! Many fan-fiction authors use pseudonyms (false names) so that they don’t have to give out their real names online.
The sense of smell has been proven to be the quickest path to memory. So why not take a field trip down memory lane, via the spice cabinet in your kitchen? Sit down with a pen and paper and a few spice jars, and smell the contents. Choose one and get lost in the memories or images that come to you. Write about what the smell reminds you of and soon a poem or a memoir will start magically forming as the scents waft around you.
Go into your attic or hallway closet and dig out a few of your old toys. Play with some of them—bounce the pink ball, open up the game Operation, pull the string of the Buzz Lightyear doll. Free-write about how you felt about the toy. Were there special rules you made up? Was it your favorite for a while? Did you get it at a birthday party? Which one?
Or become the toy and write in the first person using the toy’s voice. Tell the reader what it’s like to be the poor guy in the game Operation or the over-pulled Buzz Lightyear doll.
Hollywood does this all the time! Take your favorite story and turn it into a play or movie. At the start of each scene, write in italics how the stage is set and what props are to be used. (Remember, the audience won’t hear these words, but the director will use them to set the stage and guide the actors.)
Write the name of each character, in capital letters, before his or her lines. In regular print, write the lines to be spoken out loud. Directions to actors should be enclosed in parentheses before or after their lines.
Follow the story closely and feel free to use words from the story’s dialogue. You will have to change most of the descriptions into actions or dialogue spoken by the actors. Some of the story can be changed into stage directions, which you will write in italics. This way, the reader can tell the difference between words that the actors say out loud and the actions that they do or the sights the audience sees.
This is a great exercise to do and then act out with friends. But don’t forget to always acknowledge your source—the title, author, publisher, and year of publication.
There will be times when you won’t need to launch into a whole writing exercise. Perhaps you have a great idea already, but at the moment, your mind seems to be a blank wall. Those words you just had in your mind seem to have flown out the window. Try these mini–writer’s block cures.
When you feel you have nothing left to write, take a break. Go shoot some hoops or take a long walk with the dog. When you’re not thinking about your writing, you may find that the next paragraph suddenly appears in your head. One writer busts her writer’s block in the car. She puts on her favorite music and just relaxes. Sooner or later she gets unstuck, pulls over, and jots down her thoughts.
Sometimes you may have a great idea but not a great first sentence. Don’t worry. There’s no rule that says you have to start at the beginning. You could write your ending first or start somewhere in the middle. You could start your story by writing a really interesting scene or character instead of the beginning. Whatever works for you is just fine.
If you are writing a story, it can help to keep something on your desk or in your pocket that inspires you—a photograph or some object that reminds you of one of your characters.
What if you like what you’ve written, but it doesn’t seem to be in the right order? Well, there’s always that wonderful computer tool called “cut and paste.” But sometimes it helps to physically move your paragraphs around too. Try this: print out your writing with enough space between paragraphs that you can actually cut them up. After cutting them apart, take your pieces and spread them out on the floor or a large table. Then move your text around and hear how it sounds. After you’ve rearranged it, you can go back to the computer and copy the rearrangements.
Did you write anything with the prompts or props in this chapter? If you did, good for you! You probably have some great stories or poems already started. No matter what you think of them, save all of your first attempts. When you reread your writing later, chances are you’ll be saying something like, Hey, did I write this? Not too shabby! Your writing will seem fresh and unique—and maybe even good enough to send to publishers. And we’ll tell you how to do just that in the coming chapters!
Seventeen-year-old Jesse Shulman is from Toronto, Ontario. As an aspiring filmmaker and novelist, he is interested in framing small details of life in ways that make them resonate with an audience.
Personal Essay/Memoir
Yesterday I saw her in the street. Her hair looked slept in, split ends and all.
In another age, when I was eight and she was nine, we wanted to be astrophysicists or inventors. We built a robo-body for Stephen Hawking out of Legos, and a voicebox too, by downloading sound clips from Bogart movies and putting them on a tape recorder, so Hawking could sound like Humphrey. We planned to create guitars that played themselves, so nerds could flip a switch and be cool. We designed connector cords for brains out of USB ports and copper wire, so everyone could open their minds and let others in, so parents wouldn’t fight over miscommunications, so old people wouldn’t be lonely, too embarrassed to call their children.
Two years passed. Like most girls, she developed fast. I didn’t. She raised her anchor, sails unfurled, and I lost her to the horizon; I guess she wanted a new world and figured it was where I wasn’t.
“You’re such a boy.” She smiled while she said it, which confused me.
You know when you play the same scene over until you’re not sure if you’ve changed the script? I asked why she wanted to go. She said she didn’t know, that she just wanted to be normal, just regular and boring like everyone else.
“But nobody’s boring,” I said. She smiled again, which confused me.
Maybe it was when I told her we’d govern an underwater city in a glass dome, where no one starved because of octopi farms and no one was sad, because all the architecture was crisp and colorful, built off blueprints by Haussmann, Hundertwasser, and Gehry. All policies would be egalitarian, and there’d be no glass ceilings (except literally, of course).
Maybe it was when I told her we’d reboot the hot air balloon as the mode of public transport, so everyone could see the world from up high without looking down on one another; we’d be the first reporters to secure an exclusive tell-all with God; we’d start a family in Antarctica and breed mammoths back into existence to be our pets.
Antarctica is cold, she said.
So we drifted, like jetsam. We split.
When I was seventeen, she was eighteen and heading off for university in Paris. We’d only been talking a few times a month, if that. Sometimes we’d go out: I’d text her to bring running shoes, an attitude for adventure, and always—always—a towel. We’d meet downtown. I’d give us both fake names and fedoras, and we’d pretend to be detectives, asking people on the sidewalk for clues. We’d see tourist sites in our own city and perform short, silent plays in front of security cameras. Sometimes she’d bring me to her parties, where, ironically, she’d be the one feeling out of place. She’d get jealous if girls crowded me, especially if they were laughing, especially if they had low-cut tops and no split ends.
To me, her imperfections were what made her perfect. I’m not sure if she ever got that.
Usually she’d just come over. We’d cuddle and talk in bed about how the universe was expanding, how stars that burnt out years ago still felt real, how our DNA allowed for forty billion possible people who could’ve been born in our place, and we owed it to them to make our lives mean something. We’d turn on a movie we’d never seen, press mute, and improvise dialogue.
During her university send-off, we were standing by an intersection and the light went green. She kissed my cheek and whispered something over her shoulder as I walked away; it got lost in honks of traffic. She covered her eyes, turned a corner, and was gone.
Sometimes shoes feel waterlogged, even though they’re not.
I felt lost in space. And time. And plain old lost.
Sometimes, reading Stephen Hawking or Richard Dawkins, life becomes microscopic.
I felt like a rocket man because astronauts’ tears hang in zero gravity and stay there, like memories, floating, drifting. In space, if you want to get rid of tears before they seep into the wiring and the ship sparks apart, you stick them in Tupperware. You hide them until one day there are too many and the box bursts.
The universe is expanding.
Yesterday I saw her in the street. She was in town for the weekend. Her hair looked slept in, split ends and all. We had coffee on a park bench and watched people pass by like in a Woody Allen movie.
A couple on a tandem bike rolled past on the grass.
I looked at her.
“You can’t breed mammoths back to life,” she said.
“You can try.”
I looked at her and gave my Humphrey Bogart impression:
“I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me.”
She cast her eyes down to the coffee between her thighs. The steam rose and warmed her cheeks. Or maybe she was blushing.
She looked up and smiled.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
“We can try.”