I’ve been taking a Writer’s Workshop training this past week. Happens to be the third time I’ve been trained in it, but I’ve actually begun applying a lot of the writing advice to my own writing (for the first time)!

I thought I’d share my writing that came out of this workshop. It was based on years of mowing the lawn when I really despised it. Hope you enjoy and feel free to leave comments!

“Mowing the Lawn”

Mowing became an art form when done right. But most of the time, it was a series of problems.

Mower won’t start.

Where’s the bag? The cd player died. The lawnmower died.

Someone didn’t scoop poop! That was Nick’s job. Or was it Matt’s? Regardless, it wasn’t mine. Oh well, it’s in the mower now.

Why am I wearing my nice sneakers? That freshly cut grass is staining my shoes green… and slightly brown. Gross! What if a friend rode by? They’d like my shoes. Well, they would’ve liked my shoes, before today.

Opening the gate. Emptying the bag. Trying to quickly navigate around the large oak tree while still keeping their crisp, just mowed, rows of cut grass.

Silly allergies. Stinking allergies! Now wasps? What wouldn’t this tree do to ruin my day? Oh, new roots… didn’t think of that. Guess it outsmarted me again. One day that tree will be gone and my troubles will be gone. Gone far away, with the unscooped poop and the stained green shoes.

Oh no. Water? Who flooded the last strip of grass with water? Must’ve been that tree. Whatever. I’m finished. Who cares about the ugly, muddy strips of grass by the garage? Not me.

Empty the bag. Put the mower back. Finished!

What, not good enough? Fine, let me get the mower.

Mower won’t start.