Steering the Craft, Chapter 4 Exercises

Today, I am on Ch. 4—Repetition.

Part One: Verbal Repetition Write a paragraph of narrative (150 words) that includes at least three repetitions of a noun, verb, or adjective (a noticeable word, not an invisible one like was, said, did).

Photo by Scarlett Alt on Unsplash

It was a green Christmas; there was neither snow nor sleet, nor even bare branches, but an excess of evergreen trees that had withstood the pull of autumn. To me, it was a glorious day of wreaking green-eyed envy, for there I was, sitting on the front porch swing and exchanging gifts with the handsome and athletic Jack Gilbreth. His emerald green sweater brought out the green specks of his eyes; I told him as much, hoping he would say something similar about my blue dress, but boys rarely notice such things. He ripped the snowman-covered wrapping paper from his gift (a leather watch); I daintily peeled the green-and-red plaid paper from mine. I blinked. Was this a joke? I held a five-dollar box of chocolates (tag still attached), half-crushed and clearly purchased last-minute at the drugstore on his way over. Money doesn’t matter…but it does matter a bit.

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Part Two: Structural Repetition Write a short narrative (350–1000 words) in which something is said or done and then something is said or done that echoes or repeats it, perhaps in a different context, or by different people, or on a different scale.

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

“Don’t fuss, dear, it’s only tea,” Liza smiled condescendingly at her companion, who had just upset her nearly-empty teacup, spilling aromatic brown liquid onto the tablecloth.

Liza and Lottie had met every Saturday for afternoon tea for going on twenty-five years. They were the kind of obstinate that only the elderly can be, each firmly believing that their method of living was superior. The lunches had begun as a mutual treat, but devolved into an hour-long sparring match over the years, each striving to genteelly humiliate the other.

“I’m so clumsy,” Lottie apologized, patting down the table.

“No, no. You’ve simply always been…boisterous.”

The two resumed their cozy gossip for several minutes. Then Liza yawned ferociously.

“I may need my afternoon nap a little early today,” she said. “I feel queer.”

“Shall I fetch a doctor?”

“No, no, only a slight ache in the head.” Liza raised her teacup as she spoke—her hands shook; the cup fell onto the floor, shattering. She suddenly tried to stand, but her legs wobbled, and she fell back onto her seat and clutched her stomach.

“Don’t fuss, dear,” smiled Lottie, reaching across the table to pour herself some more tea. “It’s only arsenic.”

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I was really happy with both these results. The first is a complete microfiction, and the second is a decent draft of a solid flash fiction.

If you complete the exercises, I encourage you to post and share your responses.

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