Creative Writing Sample

Being Me: Just Write

I think someone has already written the book, "Everything I know in life I learned from my dog." This is my dog, Dixie. Every time I pen a gratitude list, Dixie is on it. She is 25 solid pounds packed into a squat body that burst with enthusiasm every day. I would allow Dixie bed privileges because she loves being a lap dog, but unfortunately her smug face makes for a "wake the dead" snore that would keep even the hardest sleepers from a REM cycle. Instead, she hurries into the bedroom every day like it's Christmas morning. Her happiness knows no limits. Her body is too small to contain the amount of excitement she brings to every day. She is a source of inspiration. Dixie starts each day with joy. As she trails my feet from the bed to the bathroom (licking at my ankles), I know in her way she is grateful for me as I am grateful for her. I love that Dixie is unable to be anywhere else but in the moment. When it comes to writing if I am unfocused I am unproductive. If I hit a block I don't get hung up on it. Instead, maybe I skip ahead to another thought or I take a break altogether. I know that if I am anywhere else except for this moment the words will not find their way to the paper. I also know that if I am too hard on myself for the quality of my work I need only to turn to Dixie where her "beingness" reminds me to be happy and grateful.

An exercise of creativity

       I should be embarrassed. I mean after all, I am “Crystal”. I use to sit on a sparkly glass shelf in Neimans, you know, NEIMAN MARCUS! There I was dusted daily and basked under a bright light that showed off all of my etchings. I was made for wedding registries and destined for a future alongside the silver platter and Royal Dalton china. I thought my day had come when I was gifted in 2004. In fairness, I never expected to be an everyday Jane like those white porcelain plates, nor did I expect to share company with those Longaberger platters that are brought out for casual gatherings, but for crying out loud I thought I’d at least be allowed to shimmer in all my glory at Thanksgiving and Christmas! Were it not for the passing of a grandparent and subsequent acquisition of a real china cabinet, I would still be tucked in the back of the kitchen cabinet next to the little used crock-pot. Can you believe that? A crock-pot for crying out loud! Oh the thought of it is so depressing!

         You might think I’m worse off now. No longer esteemed enough to sit in a china cabinet, I share a spot on the desk next to an ugly mug with a disfigured face made by an 8-year-old 22 years ago. I suppose he thinks he should be holding coffee if that is even possible considering his lack of design. Instead he holds pens. I’ve been sitting next to him for 3 months now collecting mail and holding reminders. At first his Pinocchio-esque nose and uneven smile made me cringe and momentarily made me long to be stashed away in the dark next to the unpolished silver, but he’s been holding pens for 3 years. He is truly a sight for sore eyes, but considering his tenure as the penholder I figured he knew something I did not. One day I asked him how he’s managed all these years doing a job he was not designed to do and he looked at me with that disfigured face and really bad glaze job and said, “You’re just a bowl. You’re job is to hold things. Get over yourself.”