When you don't know what to write

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Hello lovely writers,

Yes I am writing specifically to my writing friends (but if you are not a writer you can read too)... minus this blog I am not a published author. And I actually don't care if I ever have a published book (I mean it would be great for my stories to live beyond my own little imagination) but for me writing has always been a tool for escapism. However, this doesn't mean I don't want to nurture or grow in my skills as a writer. Now that I am done with school it is one thing I want to spend more time doing. I have even thought about looking into taking creative writing classes (not for a degree) to really work on this craft.

Anyway, on Wednesday night I attended a writing workshop and it it was great... One thing we did was "the leader" put a few pictures on the table and we had to take one and start writing a story, poem, whatever based on that picture. Then 20ish minutes we had to pick a completely different picture and some how integrate it into what we were writing already. Well I was drawn to the first picture (above) instantly... it looked like a pic from a time period I love.* Then the next picture was of a person holding a cross (looked like a rosary) looking as if he was about to cry and a man shouting in the background (sorry couldn't re-find image). It was a great activity to get the creative thoughts flowing so I just wanted to share it with you all.

Here is what I wrote:

"Move it along Teddy," mama pushed the back of his head.
"But Mama look at those men." 
"Move Edward!" Teddy jumped when mama called him by his formal name.

Edward James Coolson was so stately and sometimes it felt unfitting when he looked down at his dirt covered hands and his apron that had numerous patches.

Mama didn't stop and notice the men on the bicycle, she was too busy selling her flowers. She had up on her best dress, with a lace shawl, and her pillbox hat with trimmings and feathers she had sewn on herself. Mama had wanted to look respectable, "respectability sold flowers," she had often said.

Mama didn't stop and notice the men on the bicycle. But Teddy did. Teddy got in trouble for always gawking at the people they passed on the street. To be fair though these men probably wanted to be noticed. They wore bright checkered jackets both of yellow and crimson. One was standing on the pegs of the bicycle effortlessly balancing his weight on his friend's shoulders. "Perhaps they were on stage," Teddy thought for no one dressed so brightly. Black was the mainstream for this neighborhood it blended well with the coal and soot that filled the air. 

Mama didn't stop and notice the men. She hardly noticed anyone that wasn't a customer. She had observed the finely dressed women a bit a ways and nudged Teddy to them. They were in soft linen dresses, one with purple sash, and both with boater hats. Mama always noticed women's dresses before she married Pa she had worked in a seamstress shop and was always pointing out styles to Teddy. Teddy thought it was almost magic the way she knew by how a woman dress if she would buy flowers or not. She knew these women all dressed up would mean they honorable women and honorable women always had a few pennies to spare to give a child in need. Teddy must look to be in need for mama fiercely shoved him towards the ladies. 

Teddy did as mama told him. He wanted to sale her flowers too. Actually he didn't want Pa to yell at them when they came home. Pa was always yelling. He would yell when it was February and they didn't sale anything because the streets were deserted. He yelled in June because he though they could sale more than they had. Pa hadn't worked in months, he had gotten injured in the factory. Mama said it hurt a man's soul not to work. Pa must be taking his hurt out on mama. 

Teddy did as mama told him. He didn't tell anyone about the nights Mama cried or about the bruises on his arms. Pa was always good to hit in places that could be covered up. Teddy wanted to run away but he couldn't, he couldn't leave Mama. Besides once Pa was working again everything would be fine. Pa wouldn't hit or yell anymore. Teddy reminded himself of the nights when Pa would play his violin after dinner, and how Mama would take Teddy by the hand and teach him to dance. Every night Teddy told himself it would get better, that's why he stayed. **

 I am not sure if I will continue writing this story but I did really enjoy getting some motivation for writing and meeting other writers. I know writing can be a really lonely activity so I am glad to meet people with the same hobby as me. 


*-Little did I know it was from the movie "Harry and Walter go to New York" but I knew that guy in the front looked a lot like Elliot Gould.
**- I did some retouching to writing to make it more clean.