#writing exercise 4

[anti-writers-block-blog]

Writing Exercise #4: Practicing Diversity

Write from the point of view of a character with traits you have never written before, such as race, religion, gender, sexuality, etc. Do research to make sure your descriptions are accurate.

[zingapprentice-blog]

Writing Exercise #4

For whatever reason, this post was deleted after I initially published it. So here it is again. An editorial in the Evening Standard, 15th of October, 2015, p. 63: “Our children should walk to school each day just like we all used to. I am now 91 years old but as a child I walked to school daily, returning home for lunch and walking back for afternoon lessons. I firmly believe that the children of today do not do enough walking to ensure they stay in good health. We need to give our children the chance of a healthier life by instigating and encouraging this move to get them on their feet.”            - Mabel Roycroft, citizen  My mum stopped walking me to my lessons when I was about 8 years old. I remember this because the spring term began the day after my 8th birthday, the 16th of January, 1932. I remember London being a well-coated shade of grey and smoke during these early years of my independence. I should’ve been far away in a boarding school like my older sisters before me, but the war left us poor and most of the schools were being used as armories. I didn’t understand any of this reordering of facilities, let alone why I had to walk two miles to school-and-back by myself, but I didn’t complain, because we didn’t complain. We simply didn’t.I’d leave our walk-up apartment in Southwark which lie situated directly across the street from the Nunhead Cemetary, where Mum’s parents were buried. I never met them. I had to walk around the property, just past some resevoirs on a footpath that led me to Inverton Road. From there it was just a few blocks, and as soon as I could see the tops of St. Silas’ Church, I knew where to go. The January chill made my fingers stiff and rivers of snot turned to cement glue on my woolen mittens, much to Mother’s dismay upon my return at the end of each day.