Although not a fan of reality TV shows in general, there are admittedly a few that I've grown attached to. Dancing With The Stars and Project Runway keep me adequately (and addictively) entertained by drawing me into the story of the "star" while presenting the contestants with a solid challenge each week. I like it when there is a purpose for the show.
I don't mind that none of the celebrities are A-list, or even B-list, on Dancing with the Stars - I enjoy how the show exposes their lives and relationships with their dance partners, and I really like that I now have the ability to recognize which dance they will perform nine times out of ten by looking at their costume. Coming from no more than a background of elementary school dabbling in ballet, jazz, modern and highland dancing, followed by a couple of years of cheerleading in high school, this feels like a grand accomplishment to me. Don't ask me to teach the dance or follow a partner yet, but that may come one day in another ten seasons or so.
As it is Monday, and therefore Dancing with the Stars night, I thought I'd bring a little dance to writercize. Tonight it's all about marrying a dance with the written word. No doubt you've heard dance as a way to illustrate an idea - "it takes two to tango" - "he waltzed into her life" - so tonight you get to play with any dance you like.
writercize: Use dance as the inspiration for a short scene, sentence of prose or poem. You may set your character/poem in a dancing situation, or use dance terminology as a way to impart emotion and tension into your writing.
Click "read more" for a short sample response by writercize. To participate, leave your writercize as a comment or leave a link to your response on your blog!writercizer sample response:
As she lay back on the sand gazing up at the stars, caressing the indent left behind by the wedding ring that sat on her finger until just hours before, she reflected on the lightning fast rise and fall of the marriage she had to mourn and move past just as quickly. Their eyes had locked during the opening reception at some big downtown art gallery, and even as they held hands with their respective dates, sipped champagne and ate canapes, there was a deep, guttural rumba of the soul held in that gaze. Within weeks they were married, within a year they were so mad for one another they'd tattooed their bodies with each others image as an anniversary gift. Within two years she was pregnant, and now that she was just weeks away from motherhood and "on the fast train to boring housewife" (his lame excuse), he had twisted his way right back out of her life and back to high life bachelorhood.