During my weekend, we did two sets of free writing drills. The rules were simple: 1) Take the phrase/idea; 2) start writing; 3) pens down when time called (roughly five minutes). Several of these were effortless; a few of them difficult, although there was not time for any of them to become excruciating. The following are what came out of me.
Drill 1: "The first home I remember living in"
The first home I remember living in was a flat on Sacramento street. It was the one place where my nuclear family had yet to explode. The big window overlooking the street was of several of three-year-old Me’s favorite places. I would stand behind the curatin waiting for my dad to come home, and as I saw him drive-up and park and come up the stairs, I’d wait briefly before running to the door.
I don’t remember the inside of the flat. its layout was lost to me years ago. But I do remember that window. I do remember the day he arrived with an enormous poster of puppies. I do remember the garage on the street where the mechanic would give me candy whenever my mom and I walked by. And I do remember wanting to go back.
Drill 2: "A summer night"
I sat in the window of my hotel room on the Lido in Venice. The air was heavy but reasonably cool. The water taxi ride had been pleasant, and it was late, but i wasn’t ready to sleep. The person I was sharing the room with slept in the bed, but I just kept staring into the pitch black starless night sky.
A crack of thunder and the water came down. The air felt lighter and smelled wonderful. Then came the lightning, and for a brief second, a cloud formation appeared, more stunning than I had seen before. I tried to grab a picture with my camera, but the lightning was too fast, and it was gone.
Drill 3: "Belonging"
I’ve always felt outside the group, belonging only to myself. Family or friends, work or social environments — I’ve experienced a sense of belonging that seems tangential and nothing more.
Those moments of clarity and connection with others become more precious when they’re real. The moments of belonging are always the ones where that feeling and that question are just there, unnoticed but experienced.
The attempt to belong and think about not doing so is what makes me sometimes feel the most detached and alone.
Drill 4: "It took my breath away"
The climb on the El Torro was steep and slow. The anticipation of the pending drop led to a combined feeling of excitement and anxiety. As the cars in front fell over the precipice one-by-one, those feelings took over, and next thing I knew, we were falling fast. Both cheeks flew off the seat, the lap restraint keeping me in place but working hard to do so.
Just then, two coins floated out of some rider’s pocket. The cars flew by then, and the two shiny pieces of metal seemed to hover in mid-air as we sped past them. i couldn’t stop laughing, yet the lap restraint clutched and pushed into my belly. The laughing made the excitement and anxiety reach a new level, taking my breath away.
Drill 5: "My grandmother’s kitchen"
My grandmother’s kitchen was not a place my grandmother spent much time in. She had a housekeeper/cook to do that, and when the dinner parties got larger, she hired more waitstaff.
The kitchen went through three designs, but none of them were warm and inviting. The large island block in the center served as a breakfast table when the stools were in use.
The best part of my grandmother’s kitchen had little to do with my grandmother. I would sometimes leave the dining room and go into the kitchen where the housekeeper would always have the Giants game on during baseball season.
My grandmother’s kitchen was not like most grandmothers’ kitchens, but neither was my grandmother like most grandmothers.
Drill 6: "And then I woke up"
I ran down the hallway. i couldn’t be sure why, but it seemed like the thing to do. Nobody chased me; nothing waited at the other end, but the light of the open door, but I ran nonethelees. Huffing, puffing, running through the dark, the door never seeming to get any closer. I was exhausted and anxious, determined but not scared. It all seemed so important, so urgent that I had to keep going. I had to see why. I knew the answer, whatever it was, would be profound, but it was still so far away. And then I woke up.
Drill 7: "Something I have lost"
I never thought of myself as a picture viewer. A realm of nostalgia stays with me, but I never enjoyed school or my friends enough to gaze back my yearbooks. But they were always there — until I moved to New York. I forgot where I had put them only to discover two years later that I had left them in a box in my friend’s garage. I had forgotten doing so, and all the possessions there were out of sight and out of mind. Then they were gone. As I lost contact with my friend for a few years, I lost track of te boxes and even when i rediscovered where they had been, seven years later they were gone. And so was high school
Drill 8: "I liked him/her the minute I met him/her"
I’ve never known why those who become my closest friends are always those who I find an immediate and inexplicable connection with. When I met C on the 4th of July, I liked her the minute I met her. Was it because she was attractive? Sure. Was it because she worked in advertising but didn’t watch TV? Maybe. Was it because we spoke so easily to each other? Definitely. But the biggest surprise to me was the thing I never knew until nearly three years later: While I liked her the minute I met her, that day, she thought I’d never want to speak to her again.
Out of Focus 