This is funny. I think this will be a nice follow up to my previous blog entry. I’ve become more jaded about creative writing recently. Or so it seems from this little stream-of-consciousness writing I came across that I wrote last month, I think, while working on a story script for very little Muslim children:
It was an exciting day for little Miss Aisha Noor. She was going on hajj. Hajj consumed her mind. She could hardly breathe for excitement for hajj. She would go online on cute little kiddy websites and play hajj games.
This is stupid.
Who is Aisha Noor?
Is she a legend? A dream? Or merely a guise to cover up a moral of truth.
Aisha Noor is a ___adj___ ____noun___ who wants ____respect____ from _________.
Aisha Noor is an adventurous girl who wants her father, teacher, librarian to understand that she is not naughty.
Aisha Noor was the sort of child nice adults said was precocious. Precocious means bright and smart. She was also the sort of child that teachers said was a trouble maker.
Ha ha! See, I attempt to make a proper start at the end! The line with the blanks is a muddled version of Janet Burroway’s genius advice to fiction writers, on building character. (From Imagainative Writing I believe.) Muddled because I was doing it from memory.
