Wordsmithing: inspiration inanimate objects and art and characterisation

Thursday, 10 November 2011

INSPIRED BY SERENDIPITY AND ART

A costume sculpture made of shredded
newspapers found around East London,
by Fabio Lattanzi Antinori and Alicja Pytlewska.

So, I was sitting here this morning, with my cup of tea, reading the newspaper while I was trying to decide what I should post today.

I typed tea and newspaper into Google and I found an amazing website.

Miss Tiny's Where is my tea? is a new favourite with me.

I have never seen so much character in such an inanimate object.

Then I got to thinking: all characters are made up of different combinations of words.

Individual words don't make a character it is all about how the words are shaped and combined.

HAVE YOU BEEN INSPIRED BY ART?

RETURN: YA Paranormal Romance

I was running late. But, it was nothing I couldn’t make up with a bit of effort. I shook my head. Confident and happy? I smiled. Increasing my stride, I pushed until the muscles in my legs burned. I kept up the pace even when the hill grew steeper.

Magpie Lane was hardly wider than a ribbon that edged the woods but that didn’t stop traffic using it to get to the motorway quicker. Large trucks and fast cars loved Magpie Lane. They sent vibrations running through me rising from the soles of my trainers. I felt the disturbance in the ground, even before the air pressure tried to knock me off balance. I hunched my shoulders as the cab hauling a container spat stones up at me.

Jogging on the spot, at the entrance to woodland, I ached to leave the road and go inside. My Mum was probably still asleep but I could hear her you-never-know-what might-be-in-there lecture buzzing on repeat inside my head. I should run safe. Not even I would argue that running through the woods on my own was the best definition of safe but I wanted to run-wild and the woodland offered me that. This early, I should be safe from axe murderers or perverts in the trees and besides, I was fast.

I jogged down the slope into the trees. From two paces in, I felt different. Freer. It felt so right. Running in the woods did great things for my style. Avoiding the roots and dodging branches forced my stride longer, I had to step higher. The woodland, The Weald, was only a sliver of ancient woodland that the developers forgot to build on but it felt like it could have been anywhere. Everywhere. At any time. The oaks and beech trees dominated the space and the skinny, silver-birches squeezed up beside them. I laughed. For a second, the woods reminded me of school and I needed to run a lot faster.

Pages

Thursday, 10 November 2011

INSPIRED BY SERENDIPITY AND ART