The shadows lengthened as the lonely witch waited in the graveyard to make her connection. Where was he? He couldn't have forgotten about her, could he? The shiver of cold slithered down her back and her heart jumped to her throat as she spotted someone in the distance. Was that him? She had never met him before, but hoped it was her contact. If she were to be caught by Ministry officials with this in her possession, it could mean real trouble for her whole family! Impatient and fearful, the stranger approached too fast, but too slow all at once. "How did I get myself into this?" she muttered under her breath. The faces flitted though her mind of those that coerced her into submission...
And I was immediatley taken back to the 2nd or 3rd grade when we used to be give "free write" journal time for 15 minutes or so each day... and those minutes were quite possibly the longest of my life... I hated "free write." I hated creative writing... During this time I usually doodled. I doodled extensively. Doodles that were more complex drawings, goofy cartoons, or just shapes and spirals... Once a teacher looked at my journal and told me I was supposed to be writing. My reply to he (because I was as smart assed then as I am now) was "But a picture is worth 1000 words. No one else is putting that many words on a page.
Truthfully, I am not a writer. I don't enjoy it. I don't like doing it. I've never turned in a paper that wasn't barely the minimum length it was supposed to be. In 8th grade I was supposed to write a 100 word essay from the perspective of my shoe! I loved (and still love) shoes more than anything, but I had (and still don't have) any desire to write an essay as though I was one... I couldn't do it. That was one of the most difficult assignments I ever had, including all of those from Organic Chemistry in college. (Which btw, I maintain is the most difficult thing I ever had to get through.)
I'm not knocking people who enjoy to write. More power to them, I love to read. I'll enjoy reading what they write... It's just not my thing... I doodle; I draw; I paint; I've even dabbled in ceramics. My room is decorated with my own works of art.
SO will I do my homework assignment? Well, maybe I'll give it a shot. Here's my ending:
"She curses the stranger rendering him or her subconscious. Swears at herself for getting caught up in something so idiotic. Throws the object into oblivion and disapparates to the safety of the muggle mall to go shoe shopping."
I told you I wasn't a writer.
(Also the irony of such a long post being attached to my hatred of writing doesn't go unappreciated by myself. LOL)