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Alternatives

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Alternatives

When you write about hap­pi­ness, don’t write of how the sun shone dur­ing your hap­pily ever after. It’s always been like that. Instead, write of how the side­walk in your dri­ve­way, slightly damp after the rain of two hours ago, felt against the scaly skin of your heels after the labo­ri­ous work you told your­self you’d never fin­ish for days now. That’s what it feels like.

When you write about sad­ness, don’t write of tears rolling down your cheeks. It’s too famil­iar of a descrip­tion. Instead, write of the dis­gust­ing taste in your mouth, and how you regret eat­ing that late din­ner in that Mediter­ranean restau­rant because all you want to do is cry cry cry while bun­dled up in Tuesday’s laun­dry. That’s what it feels like.

When you write about a suc­cess­ful love, don’t write of sparks fly­ing. It’s a sen­tence we’ve all read before. Instead, write of the name, author, and cover image of the book you try to dis­tract your­self with as you antic­i­pate their arrival at your doorstep around 6PM, and how the cor­ners of the pages slightly dent with the bud­ding sweat on your fin­gers. That’s what it feels like.

When you write about an unsuc­cess­ful love, don’t write of try­ing to glue the pieces of your bro­ken heart together. It’s a say­ing we’re all tired of com­ing across. Instead, write of the colour of the mold grow­ing on your fruits because they left you and didn’t do the sim­ple favor of morn­ing gro­ceries, and the lit­tle maps on the pil­low next to you and how you could swear the same pat­tern was on their face while they slept. That’s what it feels like.

When you write about any­thing, every­thing, any­one, every­one, don’t write of what you’re famil­iar with. Don’t get too com­fort­able before you begin. Hear that song you lis­ten to in hopes to scratch away from writer’s block? Don’t lis­ten to it. Lis­ten to a genre you’ve never even heard of. See that word you love so much? Don’t use it. Look up the word you despise most in a the­saurus and play with the lan­guage of syn­onyms and dislikes.

You know that thing that makes sense? You know that ele­ment you always notice?

Don’t.

It’s about the things that don’t make sense and the things that we don’t notice as we scut­tle through life that haunt us after the last word is con­sumed by our brains.

And that, my dear stranger, is one aspi­ra­tion you should keep in mind before that first sen­tence is written.

  1. This is a joy and a les­son wrapped up in one lovely pack­age. I’ll def­i­nitely remem­ber this next time I write anything.

  2. Good job, infor­ma­tive and cre­ative. Golf clap.

  3. I agree with every­one else. Never write of some­thing that you’ve already heard a mil­lion times before in nov­els or movies. Real­ity never has the per­fect end­ing, although we wish it was. Instead, write about how you feel or the descrip­tions of every­thing around you. For me, it makes it eas­ier because I remem­ber the set­ting and how I felt, rather than hav­ing to read a cheesy line where the two peo­ple find true love in each other. Thanks for remind­ing me. =)

  4. Steph Lowe says:

    Very true, regret­fully thats how i usu­ally write what is known to me and every­one else. I do this because i assume that what every­one wants to hear but not how i really feel, I try to move on from that but i’m not really sure how…

  5. Angie Gonzalez says:

    Now that I think of this, I agree com­pletely. I know that when­ever I have to write I always go with what I know because it’s eas­ier for me. I don’t like to be stuck on a piece think­ing about it all day, and how I will start it or develop it. I also agree because you should try to make your piece unique and sur­pris­ing for the reader. It’s not always a hap­pily ever after.

  6. Erika Ortega says:

    I agree with every­thing Roanne Quio­zon is say­ing. I have read many books with the same lines in it about love and feel­ing and all the bor­ing mushy stuff. I like how she talks about unsucess­ful love and com­pares it to moldy fruit. I can actu­ally pic­ture the fruit all gross and sad look­ing. Details always keep the reader want­ing more. Once i saw details they made me laugh because I could relate to it. I know how some­one could feel if they had that much detail in their papers or sto­ries. Your piece of writ­ing has to be yours. You have to make it yours by mak­ing it unique and put a lit­tle twist in it that will let read­ers know that only this per­son writes this cer­tain way.

  7. Jackie Lantych says:

    I like every­thing that was said in this piece. I agree with the over­all mes­sage because I know I am guilty of writ­ing the same things over and over. I liked how she said “cry cry cry.” Also how she put “Don’t” on it’s own line.

  8. Sarah Lopez says:

    I really liked this piece. This is the per­fect exam­ple of show­ing read­ers how you feel, rather than by telling them. I think I’m going to always remem­ber this piece every­thing I go to write about some­thing that needs a lot good, descrip­tive details.

  9. Samantha Dwyer says:

    I love this piece, firstly because i am a huge fan of think­ing out­side the box. This piece made me real­ize that when i write i don’t do that very much. This is a great piece.

  10. sebastien joseph says:

    u never tought of express­ing my toughts like this, as a high school stu­dent i have been tought a cer­tain path and i kept it that way, its impress­ing how this changed my whole mind­set on my writ­ting pieces.

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