Writing Prompts: Attempt #2

I'm really geeked about the essay writing class I'm taking-- an eight-week course that started on Monday. In addition to reading published essays, learning more about the form and structure of the genre, and critiquing our classmates' compositions, I found out that we will be given multiple writing prompts-- one in-class and one take-home prompt per week-- brief exercises meant to provide ideas, trigger memories, and create fodder for future essays. I'm not usually good at writing on command or working against the clock, but I was pretty impressed by what I was able to hammer out in 10 minutes, and on just my second attempt!

The prompt was to write about a treasured childhood object, and to describe why it was important and whether I still have it in my possession. The first thing that came to mind was a giant stuffed husky dog that I named King (after my neighbor's vicious German Shepherd, who I wanted-- more than anything-- to be able to pet). I apologize in advance if my memories are a little bit fuzzy, on account that half of the essay took place back when I was a toddler, but I'm excited that I was able to structure the essay as well as I did, in such a short amount of time. It's not a bad story, either, so here you go!

When I first got King, he stood almost as tall as I did. He wasn't the real dog I wanted, but he was the next-best thing, and as soon as I saw the life size, gray-and-white husky tucked behind the Christmas tree, I was in love. I dragged him around by his fluffy curved tail the way some kids tote a security blanket; when not in tow, he sat faithfully by my bedside, pink felt tongue lolling out of his furry, toothless mouth. I loved that dog to pieces. Literally. When I finally split his seams (from sitting on him like he was a pony) my mom promised to sew him back up for me. He was added to the sewing pile in the back of the closet-- a pile which, sadly, grew as I grew.

I had all but forgotten about my faithful stuffed companion until years later, when I was home on break from college. I noticed an ad in the paper announcing that the "Teddy Bear's Clinic" was coming to the local zoo, stitching up the seams and reattaching the limbs of the well-loved, stuffed animals of children everywhere. I practically leaped out of my chair and set my alarm to get up early the next morning; I was taking King to the "vet". My mother, horrified, kept protesting that I couldn't go-- I was 22!-- but I didn't care.

When I woke up the next morning, however, I couldn't believe my eyes. King was sitting in the dining room-- glass eyes cloudy with age and his coat grimy with dust, and he leaned a little to the left-- but he was intact. As it turns out, my mother rescued him from the sewing projects pile in the closet and stayed up the better part of the night to make good on her decades-old promise to me, and to avoid the embarrassment of having her grown child go stand in line with a bunch of six-year-olds, waiting to be reunited with a lifelong friend.

I think this prompt-writing exercise will be kind of fun, although I'm having a much harder time with my take-home prompt, which is to describe a dinner conversation between myself and a (deceased) celebrity. What would we talk about and what would each of us order? Huh. I'd love to have dinner with Leonard Bernstein, but aside from wanting him to be alive, 60 years younger, unmarried, and straight (so I could go on a date with him!) I don't really know what else I should say! Stay tuned, though... I just might figure it out... and if any of these future prompt-writing exercises turn out well, I just might post them, too.