Life in the slow lane: essays about sabbatical, separation, and screenplays. Dedicated to my friend the executive recruiter who told me my resume was useless, and suggested that I chronicle my job search, since there are “a lot of guys like you out there today past fifty looking for work”….
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Prompt Night
[Instructions: go round the room and each participant free-associates a word, then, with only 10-minutes to write, the prompter says, "name a song" and start writing without ever stopping your pen from moving, even if it means you just write nonsense words. Here were the group's starting words: baby girl sweet sleep thunder tired money disease spent laugh lonely raisins sun lullaby teeth bit wallaby kangaroo. And here's what I wrote....]
"Row, row, row your boat," sang the little girl after her ssssss sister fell asleep on the dock. Their parents were arguing heatedly about god knows what, so Jill jumped in. Wherever there was water, Jill got wet. Usually just her sneaks, a slip off the stones, but this time, in her raincoat, she sunk. And the birds flew off as her parents accused each other of this and that, threatening to drive off and leave the other as the silence of the pond crept up on them, and they saw Jessie sleeping so peacefully, but Jill nowhere to be found.
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