writing excersize: description

[katya]

This is an idea I stole from another message board somewhere. It is basically a way to practice writing description. The idea is to look at this picture (which I will post) of a room, and describe it in about 100-200 words or so. Use simile, metaphor, adjective and adverbs, whatever. Try to get the look and the mood of the room. Don't try to make it a story; there's no plot, just a setting. I'm curious to see some responses.

http://www.tfme.net/guest/exercise1.jpg

[Lizra]

Ahhh! The guest bedroom! So fresh, so clean! The question that comes to my mind is...."What does it smell like?" Those ultra white bed linens might have just come from the store. The crisply sized pillow shams look as if they could waft a store-bought, chemically "fresh" smell. The gauzy white fabric hanging straight down from the sleek canopy, also brings to mind newly opened plastic packages.
Or, maybe not! Maybe the scent is that "freshly washed and bleached" smell! Mmmmm, Clorox! This bedroom looks "sunlight bright" also. Could it be there's a window open, right next to the fresh bed? I believe I can see some sunrays, and smell a slight early morning breeze blowing away the chemical scent of the blue/white bedding.
Yes, that's it! Everything has just been washed. Breezy, bright and soft, the handsome dark mahogany poster bed waits. Well made and fresh, this quiet bed is ready to welcome human bodies needing to recharge and relax.
On the bedside table, the Casa Blanca lily sends a curling trail of perfume over the poster bed hide-away. You just might get a whiff of the flower's musky sweet perfume, as you lay down to read that book. When you finally arrive at your destination, this clean, fresh guest bedroom is the perfect welcome.

[Nurvingiel]

The photographer worked closely with the Public Relations reprasentative to create the pamphlet for the Metropolitan Hotel. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were invested in the project, and it was the photographer's job to demonstrate the pristine, classy, and comfortable atmosphere of the hotel.

She chose a close-up of a beautiful bed for her shot. Gauzy, white hangings were draped around the perfectly made, comfortable bed. It was graced with a dark, charcoal purple quilt whose smooth softness invited the weary business traveller to relax. The subtle, creamy pink walls accented the dark quilt and white sheets and hangings. A friendly oak dresser was behind the bed, with a partially concealed vase of white lilies.

The photographer had spent an hour with the lighting crew. The window was not in the picture, but it was letting the perfect amount of natural light which accented the artificial lighting. The white in the setting was glowing. The photographer took advantage of the moment and quickly snapped three rolls of film at various angles.

One of these pictures would describe the ideal setting of the Metropolitan Hotel, inviting travellers from all over the world.

[katya]

Nice, Nurvingiel, but I kind of said don't involve a plot. But that's ok.

Lizra, when I read your post, this phrase came to mind: "excitable little fellow".

[Nurvingiel]

Yeah, I liked your post Lizra. I feel welcome.

You can have events without having a plot, but I admit I was pushing it a bit.

[Lizra]

I'm an excitable little fellow??! I can be....if I want to!
I like to write non fiction, of any kind.

[Nimbrennil]

Mae Govannen,

Okay, good, I'm going to try... No one has posted for some time, but I would still like to try to describe this room... I am going to make a "kind-of" plot, but I will try to keep from entering any persons into my post...

The wind blew gently into the room, stirring the tulle curtains that surrounded the bed... The violet comforters were soft and plush, covering the bed in lush layers. The pillows, both white and plum, looked cool to the eye, propped up against the sleek mahogany wood of the headboard. A wooden table stood beside the bed, holding an glossy ivory pitcher filled with fair lilies, lilies that cast a fragrance over the room. A light also stood on the bedside table, a dark one with a white shade, shedding pale light on the room. The window was open, a breeze wafted gently through, and the sun shone brightly across the way.

Well, that's all, folks....

I tried but it stinks and I think I'll leave because I'm really embarassed of my description... *SIGH* ...

Namarie,
-Nimbrennil

[IronParrot]

I tried but it stinks and I think I'll leave because I'm really embarassed of my description... *SIGH* ...

Don't be. It was a legitimate way to tackle the topic, and overcoming the embarrassment of displaying your own work is the only way it will ever get read.

I'll take a stab at it.

Purity is a white linen sheet patterned with diagonally-oriented squares we like to call diamonds, only diamonds are forever, and housekeeping knocks every morning. Chaos is the purple maelstrom that moonlights as Quilt, bringer of warmth and protection. By night, we rest upon the artificial comforts of a whitewashed uniformity, but envelop ourselves in the eye of a violet tempest of dreams. By day, the sunlit storm rests while we awaken to a bed by a lily-shade on the lampside table. Draw the curtains; the pillows are stacked in our favour.

Hmm... actually a bit shorter than 100w, but no matter.

[Last Child of Ungoliant]

http://www.tfme.net/guest/exercise1.jpg

What a beautiful room, it must smell like lavender on a spring morning. The bed, fit for a queen, with drapes of purest silk,
and coverlets of softest cotton, as soft as the grass in the meadow, it is the cleanest room, as clean as a new morning, and as fresh as the spring sunshine. It is as warm as summer, and as cold as winter, with the crisp of a cold autumnal night.
I notice the vase, with the flowers, an essence of life, taken and preserved, a view to the world, or a snapshot in time. How one yearns to have such a room, to lie, unabated and free, and to wake next to the one you love, on a lazy sunday morning. Or to have one who would bring you breakfast, as you were roused gently from your slumber, half a grapefruit, two croissants, freshly squeezed orange juice, and fresh, steaming coffee. The smell that would greet you, the essence of Columbia in a cup, the sweetness of the tropics on a plate, 2 crescents of French joy, buttered and baked, and a glass of pure sunshine.

How's that for a description?

[Azhag_Nuug]

Description eh? Well, here goes.

He walked briskly into the dim lit saloon. Men of all sorts starred upon his granduer. None could ever beat him, and only he had tamed the fairest and brutest beast in all the land.

He was dressed in leather of some unknown sort, and had a cloak woven of silk wrapped about him. Upon it's linings were letters, an scripts in the fashion of his people. His people whom not even he knew.

His pants were torn all about, with mended patches. He had run out on his long journeys, and in harsh times the patches were leaves.

Boots, black and dirty were laden upon his feet. One toe stuck out of his left boot. All the people in the saloon knew the man's name. He was Fred.

I don't have a word count but that seems reasonable.

[Last Child of Ungoliant]

very good, azhag-nuur,
but it doesn't describe the room very well
as is the point of this exercise...

[katya]

My thoughts exactly...oh well...

Everyone else, good job! I am so excited that your descriptions ar eso creative! They go beyond simple description without any actual plot. Yay! And maelstrom is a cool word too.

[Last Child of Ungoliant]

Originally posted by katya
My thoughts exactly...oh well...

Everyone else, good job! I am so excited that your descriptions ar eso creative! They go beyond simple description without any actual plot. Yay! And maelstrom is a cool word too.

did you like my description, katya?
and have you heard the song
'Mental Maelstrom' by Mortiis?
i notice you like that word!!

[katya]

Of course I liked it! But alas, no, I've never even heard of that band. Are they good? What kind of music is it? (Boy, that's a lot of M's!)

[Last Child of Ungoliant]

Originally posted by katya
Of course I liked it! But alas, no, I've never even heard of that band. Are they good? What kind of music is it? (Boy, that's a lot of M's!)

Mortiis is a Norwegian goth,
and he is excellent,
sort of an electro version of
sisters of mercy

[Starr Polish]

Crumpled papers, riddled with corrections and scribbled handwriting, litter the lake gray carpet of the room. Ah, a writer lives here. The shiny glint of CDs also grace the floor, like an odd species of water-lily. Antique furniture stands grandly, out of place in the small room, almost threatening, if it weren't draped with colorful clothing and nearly covered in photographs and drawings. The frozen figures in the snapshots smile eternally to the stark, painfully bare walls. The comforting sight of a messy sea of blue sheets and blankets contrasts these walls. Books also inhabit this area, obviously well loved and tenderly dog-eared, sitting eagerly and waiting for their turn to be read again (and again). The angular desk in the corner is softened with even more books and papers, as well as a collection of rubber balls, all colors found nowhere in nature. A menagerie of glass dolphins live happily at the top of this desk appear so friendly that one wonders what they chat about when no one is there. The open window lets in a summer breeze, and it brings in a hint of the smell of freshly mowed grass. A creaky door, garnished with even more photographs, shuts at a particularly strong gust of wind.

[Lalaith_Elf]

The light poured softly through the thin glass of the window, as a slight breeze made the soft linen curtains float as they were carried on the gentle wind. A soft fragrance filled the room. Fragrances of the sweetest lilies with almost instantly heighten the senses and the tranquillity of the room, a reminder of the sweetest and purest summers. The smooth and flowing drape flowed softly in time to the breeze, delicately settling back into place around the relaxing and restful bed. The silk based linen soft and smooth to the touch. Colours of dark plum and wine. The soft light, creating a harmonious and almost musical touch to the bedroom. A bedroom that every woman would be satisfied with. A bedroom no man would forget or disregard.

Okay, it's not the best I can do. But there it is.

[Nimbrennil]

Suilad,

Thanks, Iron Parrot. I really like your desc too! ERP, I mean, description.

Actually, I like everyone's descriptions (?)! Very nice, ya'll.

Namárië (at least 'til later...),
-Nimbrennil

[sun-star]

Obviously no one has ever lived in this room. This bed has seen no pain. At the very most it has experienced the passing dramas of travellers: of unwilling exiles, who barely look at their surroundings if those surroundings are not home; of honeymooners, who think all life will be as clean and perfect as these sheets; of business men, with more to do than enjoy the fall of white light through a white curtain. But an owner, a possessor, this room has surely never known. Such plump pillows never bore the deep press of one head for many nights, were never forced flat by nightly suffering. The lily never droops; the light never goes out. Someone tidies this room up, every morning. It has nothing more.

Oh well, I tried

[Lady Ravyn]

well, here goes

the breeze floats through the room, ruffling the curtains as it makes its way inside.it dances across the plush quilt, lavender and comfy. the quilt itself is fairly new; the breeze can tell this from its crisp lines and clean scent. the sheets are new also, though they've seen slightly more use than it's sister, the comforter. their dazzling whitness is comforting to its occupants, who enjoy the fragrance the dryer cloths leave in its threads.

the Breeze tumbles off the bed and lands gently on the soft carpet, and makes its way up to the bed-side table. the table is a strong one, made of oak and stained a rich cherry. the lilies resting there are fresh, haven't even had time to droop out of need for water.

having sated its curiosity, the little breeze goes once more around the bed, impressive in its size and classic style, brushing by the curtains so whimsically draped about the bed, and disappears back out the open window.