Warning!   This exercise has not been entirely worked out.  Try not taking
it too seriously (unless you wish).   The  idea is to have fun, and maybe to  get some new ideas started.

paul pekin
 

Little Arne, age two, has added gerunds to his vocabulary.   Suddenly he
understands there are words that describe actions and abstractions as
well as mere objects.  Crying seems to be one of those words.  "Arne,"
we say.  "What is crying?"   Then we demonstrate by wailing a little bit
ourselves.  So he does it.   The same with jumping, running, and
yelling, all of which he seems to like better than crying.  He's a
little bit suspicious of "crying."  I think he suspects we are trying to
slip in some sort of a message.   Stop crying over nothing, you silly
baby!    He's not ready for that.   I think he kind of likes to cry.
Maybe we all do.

Anyway, here's the new exercise.   Let's take one of these gerunds and
put it through its paces.   And let's use crying first.

Warmup.

A place where there was crying.    (Suggestion:   We're not talking
tragedy here.   We don't exclude it, but why get that heavy right off
the bat? )

A person who cried a lot.    (Suggestion: use your imagination.  Stretch
the definition of crying.  Maybe even of person!)

How it feels to cry.  (Suggestion:    Not how it feels to be sad, just
how it feels to cry)

Finally, a list.   Things that make people cry.  (Suggestion:
deliberately exclude all real tragedy.  Or at least save it for the
end.)

Okay, now lets try a couple of other Arne's gerunds.

Jumping.

A place where there is a lot of jumping.  (If this gets silly, so be
it.)

A person who does a lot of jumping–or maybe only jumps once!

How it feels to jump.

Running.

Same deal but try to make it interesting.
 

One last one.   A personal favorite:

Sleeping.
 

Okay, you get the idea..    There's no certain way this should be done
other than you should try to take it in stride.     You can do them all,
choose only one, write short images, build an entire story, whatever you
find pleasing.   Try making at least one up.  But not all.

Post the results and we'll comment.

ppekin@megsinet.net
 

We were all jumping.   The idea  was to touch the strings on the
basket.   We didn't know that  by the time we were old men kids our
age  would be performing slam dunks.  We didn't even know what a slam
dunk was.  I'd run down the court and  straight at the basket.  Up I'd
go, down I'd come.   "Did I get close?"  I'd ask my friends.   Finally
we got out a springboard, but the coach wouldn't let us  aim  it  at
the basket.    We had to  run for all we were worth,  sprong off the
board, dive head  first onto  the mat,  and somersault to  safety.
Next we jumped over one of our friends who would flinch mightily  when
we  took  off.   I'd run  for  all  I  was worth,  sprong, hit the
springboard, and actually be flying for  a second.  It  all  happened so
long  ago,  I've forgotten how it felt.   Except  in dreams.    In
dreams I can  still  fly.   I can  jump, and jump  higher, and jump
higher.   No effort  at all.  Up  I go, and  finally I am  drifting
above the world.    If we were only cats, perhaps we would not need to
fly.

pp