I took her in when I found her wandering, shell-shocked, between the piles of rubble where the street had been. The first sound she made was a giggle when I made a shadow rabbit on the basement wall. Later, tinned beans warmed over a fire made from a broken chair brought a faint smile to her tiny face. Eventually, she fell asleep as the single candle guttered, and I wondered what we would do tomorrow, a widower and a wordless orphan. As the dark closed in, I prayed that we’d dodge the monsters, and wished they’d never found our fragile world.
The Power of Imagery with Nina Schuyler
September 12 & 13 on Zoom
Enrollment closes Thursday, September 3 at 7:00 PM Pacific
If your descriptions are vivid but your stories still feel thin, this workshop is for you.
Join award-winning author Nina Schuyler to learn the difference between description, which tells a reader what things look like, and imagery, which carries plot, character, and meaning at the same time.
In just two days, you'll learn to choose images that hold emotion without naming it, pair them so each one deepens the other, and build patterns that gather meaning as the story moves.
Beautiful and tender.
A thoughtful piece. Kudos.
I was very moved, thank you for a thoughtful piece!
Oh man. I want to read their story. Wonderful piece.
This could be the start of a novel.
Sobering and poignant.
This was very sweet and heartwarming. Great job
Love the tone of your piece–gentle and sweet in the midst of devastation.