Yossi Klein, publisher of Bread Wine & Thou, came and spoke with us in class on Monday. I was surprised (and slightly amazed) that Yossi spent the whole three hours with us chatting about his creative practice, his personal history, his thoughts on writing and publishing, print vs online, the value of writing courses, etc. It was an inspiring and creatively satisfying session, and has given me a bit of a boost. I’ve always thought that I can write but I have nothing to say; Yossi was fantastically reassuring and told us that everyone has a little bit of the storyteller in them, it’s a way of seeing the world that you can develop and exercise over time.

Today we worked through a creative writing/description exercise where we were given a paragraph of boring, unimaginative text and tasked with re-writing one sentence to be more descriptive. I’ve always struggled with description exercises, but today’s was actually quite rewarding — I think a major part of it was that we could choose the sentence that we wanted to re-write, so that gave us the opportunity to pick a sentence that spoke to us or that we thought we could improve most.

As I’ve been realising over the last few weeks, the more I write, the more I want to write. And the better I write. And the better I want to write. I hope we have time to do some more writing exercises, because they’re immensely helpful and it’s also great fun to listen to other people read their work. I thought everyone in the class, even though their results were very different, really nailed the exercise.

My sentence was: “At work I went to my desk and there was a note to go and see the boss.”

Here’s my re-written version (it’s a first draft but I think I feel comfortable enough to share it here):

I steered my car into the basement car park, hoping that the grimy walls and dim lighting would provide adequate cover for an advance towards the elevator. Locking my car with the key instead of the fob to avoid the betrayal of a loud sharp beep, I snuck swiftly and stealthily towards the doors, but before I could complete my silent approach I heard the unmistakeable click clack of high-heels on asphalt. Diving around a corner, I hoped that in my fright I hadn’t drawn unnecessary attention to myself. The clicks stayed in perfect regularity with the clacks, and I knew I was golden. Craning my neck to identify the owner of the heels, I decided it was safer to wait in the safety of my makeshift cocoon as the woman entered the elevator and ascended away.

Suddenly I realised that although I was behind a pylon I was still helplessly exposed on three sides, a sitting duck waiting for a boss or co-worker to wander past and find me. I stayed perfectly still and silent, praying that the elevator would return quickly. After what felt like an eternity I heard the sweet, low rumble as it returned to its default position in the basement, and with a ding it opened, inviting me into its welcoming embrace. I rushed forward and dived in, mashing the close door button with the furious stab of my finger, and the doors slowly, steadily creaked closed. It was as if the elevator had no idea the hurry I was in. Safely ensconced, I let out a heaving sigh. Mission accomplished.

Then, with a sinking feeling I realised that the real battle was ahead of me. The office floor. No-mans land. I had to throw caution to the wind and just go for it.

Ducking, weaving, diving, and sneaking from cubicle wall to cubicle wall through the open plan office like a pantomime jailbreak in a silent movie, I couldn’t believe that no one had noticed me. Allowing myself a silent moment to curse whoever it was that decided offices work better with cubicles than closing doors, I made a final triumphant leap into the three-square-metre space that had been assigned to me those years ago. I slumped into my chair, allowing my bag to drop heavily at my feet. I chuckled, triumphant in victory. I had done it.

My eyes fell onto my keyboard, and the crumpled piece of lined note paper perched delicately on top of it. I don’t remember leaving that there yesterday.