Several years ago, I participated in a writing class in the Literary Kitchen. Among our assignments each week was a ‘Quick Write’ practice, which is to be completed in ten minutes or less, in response to a prompt. One prompt was, ‘Allow an image or memory to come to mind while considering the word ‘babysitter.’ Write about it.’ Here was my QW response:
Greg Seidel was going to spend the night at my house. The coolest kid in the fifth grade—the first kid picked in pick-up games, the fastest, most agile athlete on every team, the first boy fifth grade girls noticed—Greg was spending the night at my house!
That would easily make me the second coolest kid in the fifth grade.
Tragedy! My parents announced they were going out for the evening and having a friend over was out of the question. I begged. I pleaded. I bargained—I’d do more than my share of chores.
My big sister Diann stepped in to save my life. She offered that she could babysit both Greg and me. I hated the word ‘babysit.’ I was eleven, after all! Talk about uncool! … I preferred ‘chaperone.’ The parents agreed.
My life was spared.
Greg and I were having a lot of fun. But it turned south, fast. At one point, Diann told us we needed to quiet down. Greg sarcastically mocked her. She scolded us. He talked back. The tension mounted, and I began to get nervous. I knew my sister. I could see her temperature rising. Before I could warn him, the two were locked in a fiery face-to-face exchange.
“Listen you little punk!” she demanded. “I’m bigger than you. I’m badder than you. I’m meaner than you. And I’m a helluva lot madder than you. You’d better shut your mouth!”
My world went into slow motion. I saw it all unfold—
Greg’s eyes took on a wicked gleam. Diann’s turned blood red! The coolest kid in the fifth grade crossed the line.
Greg mimicked my sister, “I’m biiiiiger, I’m baaaaader, I’m meeeeeener …”
Greg’s life flashed before my eyes.
Again, I saw it all … Diann formed a perfect fist. Like one of those slow-motion scenes from the movie Rocky—you know, where the punch lands, and spit and blood go flying from flapping jowls.
The coolest kid in the fifth grade went ass-end over tea-kettle across my living room; his lip swelled to the size of a kielbasa before he even hit the ground. The coolest kid, reduced to a puddle of slobber, blood and tears by my sister.
A ‘Quick Write’ practice is a great way to hone your story-telling skills. Why not give it a try? Here’s a few prompt ideas for you. By the way, if you haven’t already, check out the Storysmithing portion of this site. Tools and techniques of the trade are compiling there—a fresh take every week. WRITE ON!
Quick-Write Challenge
- Tell the story of finding a note with no name attached.
- Tell the story of receiving a phone call you weren’t expecting.
- Tell the story of seeing someone from your past you never expected to see again.
- Tell the story of making a decision in ten seconds.
- Tell the story of opening a door and finding something surprising on the other side.
DARIN MICHAEL SHAW 