One of the most important things about journalism is the idea of storytelling, or so I think. I have been racking my brain on ways to practice this form of art, and the only thing that comes to mind is to just write. Picking a topic has always been the hard part to me, so I am just going to paint a picture in your mind. A picture that leaves you, hopefully, licking you lips and rubbing your temples in a completely content manner. I will attempt to include imagery, a plentiful amount of similes (my favorite literary element), and an absence of to be verbs. Here goes nothing…
The nights seemed longer in the summer months. She knew school was drawing closer, and her adventures would cease to exist as prominently as they did on random Tuesday afternoons. On nights like these, the window curtains fluttered back and forth against the newly painted wall, and the clock gradually clicked to numbers that forced a sense of tiredness to wash over the eyes. The silk white sheets wrapped her legs like a mummy and her arms were strew across the memory foam mattress. She was not asleep though. Her mind was racing. The thoughts ran countless laps across the frontal lobe and the worries kicked on the flaps of tissue. She was contemplating the creation of life, her future plans, the boy who wouldn’t return her phone calls, the reason the shadow on the wall seemed to look a lot like a monkey, and tomorrow. She was especially thinking about tomorrow. The vibration of her phone didn’t stir her, instead it was ignored effortlessly by the annoyed teenage girl. She was focused on the fact that in a few short hours she would need to be on a plane. The destination unknown to her, but one that held the fate of her future in it’s hands. Planes had always scared her. The way the clouds appeared like cotton candy puffs and the over enthusiastic flight attendant smiles sent shivers through her blood. She was used to running on the treadmill with her feet glued to the ground, not shaking her toes against the unstable metal frame of a vehicle in the air. Tomorrow was the day she discovered what it meant to be a woman, what it meant to be apart of her family. The plane would take her to a car, no doubt filled to the brim with champagne and gummy candies. The car would then take her to meet people of status unimaginable to the common folk. Nothing seemed real. She longed for one more night in her brothers bed laughing at their mothers burnt chicken, or one more day wrestling a shirt from the grips of her best friends fingers. She knew her destiny, but she saw the easiness of life in Massachusetts. The time ticked faster and faster, her stomach lurched in bubbles, and her mind focused on the negatives. Nothing could stop her exhaustion from pushing further and further into dangerous regions. The shadows on the walls held more promise than the flight tomorrow. Her hands shook as she pulled the covers up to her chin, not ready to forget the life she had always known.
Writing Duration: 23 minutes
It’s not the most amazing piece. It might not make sense. But hopefully the words held promise and left you wondering who she was and the essence of her destiny.
You know what they always say- “Practice Makes Perfect”