Today is Tuesday, my second day with the Teachers Write Virtual Writing Camp.  Today’s assignment is to free write about a specific place.  I’m using the assignment to get to know part of the setting for my Little Red Riding Hood novel, in particular, grandmother’s cottage.  Here goes!

Write for two minutes to describe a specific place:  Grandmother’s cottage

The cottage is small, just two rooms.  The main room is an open kitchen and living area.  A wood stove crouches in the back corner .  Between the wood stove and a back door lie stacks of wood.  Over the wood is a whitewashed plank shelf.  Copper pots hang from hooks above the planks.  A table and benches fill the rest of that side of the room.  Two arm chairs stand at each end of the table.    A door in the wall to the right leads to a small bedroom.  

Wow! That two minutes flew by.  Since this is not a real place I can visit, I’m going to take a few minutes to go there in my mind.  Then I’ll be back for more free-writing of one minute each.

Everything I see:

dark rafters above, armchair in corner opposite a spinning wheel, baskets underneath the shelves that wrap half the cabin in a u-shape, table with polished wood top, cloak hanging next to door

Everything I hear:

teapot whistling on the stove, tinkling of chimes from somewhere, wind muffled through thick stone walls, a warm silence lies like a blanket, soft sounds

Everything I smell:

mint, tang of bitter herbs, mix of drying leaves–like a forest after rain, earthy smell, lemon/citrus

Everything I feel:

walls are cool and smooth, table top is polished smooth–wood that feels almost like a stone washed in the river, blankets are soft, not scratchy like wool, chair has firm cushion, entering doorway feels like walking into a spider’s web–sticky strands cloak arms and face

Next is to rewrite the first paragraph using the sensory details I imagined.

Before I even have a chance to knock, the heavy oak door swings open with a soft swish.  I step through the doorway and right into  a spider web.  I don’t see the web, but the sticky strands of something cling to my face and arms.  I try to brush them off, but I feel a trace remain on my cheeks.  A teapot simmers on the wood stove crouched in the back corner, filling the air with the scent of lemon balm.  Racks of drying leaves add an earthy scent to the air, like the smell of the woods after rain.  I sniff, catching the bitter tang of horseradish. This smell of home slows my thudding heart until the door swings shut behind me.  The click of the latch mutes the trilling birds outside.  All I can hear inside is the light tinkling of chimes.