|The one, the only–Fuzzy Ferocious|
Good morning, dear readers,
Before I tell you about today’s exercise, I’d like to address some concerns people have had about the blog not being updated while I’m at the retreat. It is my intention to do a daily post while I’m away, and I’ve been assured that the wifi at the lodge works well. I don’t usually post on the weekend, but Susie Moloney filled me in on what to expect at a retreat, and I thought those of you who write might find what she had to say interesting. I will post that info on either Saturday or Sunday.
Okay, enough housekeeping! My friend Brent had this interesting idea for a blog. He takes photos of items he owns and tells a little story about them. This makes a great writing exercise.
Choose the room in your home where you feel the most creative and select an object. Tell us a little story about it. Again, don’t worry about grammar and spelling–just have fun!
I’d like to introduce you to Fuzzy Ferocious (pictured above). I’ve had Fuzzy for a long time, since I was around seven years old. Coincidentally, Fuzzy also cost seven dollars. My mother saw him in a store in our little town and fell in love with him. In the beginning, I wasn’t sure that I liked him that much, but she was so enthralled with Fuzzy that she won me over. She also gave him his name–to this day, my mom comes up with the best stuffed animal names.
Fuzzy has seen a lot of love over the years. I like that his nose looks like a chocolate peanut, and I love the sad, slightly wistful look on his face. It makes me want to give him a hug. Fuzzy isn’t really as ferocious as his name suggests–the most he can muster is a pitiful roar. There’s something endearing about a peace-loving lion, I think. And his string tale is simply adorable.
These days, Fuzzy lives in my office–the room where I do all of my writing. He sits on my roll top desk and watches me while I work. Writing can be a lonely job, but every now and then, I will look at Fuzzy and it’s like I have some company, even though he’s stuffed. I know he’s urging me on in his own quiet way.
What’s your object?
Portrait of Fuzzy Ferocious by Chris Brogden