About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
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Off the Cuff / My Other Journal #697954 added June 2, 2010 at 3:44pm Restrictions: None
Story Templates?
Some people swear by using templates for their stories. Although a template (for anything) can offer a much needed order, I always thought using a template for creative writing killed the originality and did away with creativity. To be objective, however, I decided to use one of the templates on the web; one that says give a noun, give an adjective etc., something similar to our madlibs here in WdC.
I am still adamant in insisting to use perspiration instead of a format because if everyone used a template, even a more improved template than the one I came across, all the stories would end up being like serial factory productions. On the other hand, the template I played with gave such a farcical story that, I think, it may be okay to use those things for play, just like madlibs.
Here's the story:
Sally needed to go shopping, so she called her sincere friend Rob and arranged to meet at the Florida. There they got a potpourri and a balloon. The balloon makes the best pie. Sally and Rob love to make balloon pies. They also got some daisies and bows for dinner. Everyone knows that bows taste very good mixed with daisies . Sally did not have enough money to pay so she gave the cashier a ribbon instead. The cashier put their stuff in a tumultous bag. Then, Sally and Rob rode a rapid bus home. When they got back home, they baked a very fidgety balloon pie. Then they enjoyed their ardent dinner until the pie cooled off. After that they had the fidgety balloon pie and made sure to give their pet pepper some too.
Maybe, while I am playing, I'll put up a madlib or two. |
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