A friend of mine posted this challenge on Facebook earlier today and I stole this from her:
Do this. Even if you don’t share it here, do it and immediately feel like you’re wonderful and magical. Describe yourself using anything but character traits.
For example, I’m black lipstick and creme colored stationary, wax sealed envelopes and stacks of notebooks. I’m thunderstorms, rocky beaches, mason jars lined in a row along your window sill. I’m carnations, fangs, old flannels and crappy nail polish art. I’m dew on spider webs and the month of September, the deep breath you take before you jump off the boat into Lake Erie under a hot full moon in July. Romanticize yourself .
–Helen Bell
I am expanding on the challenge and I am going to describe a few characters in this way. Something fun and positive to get the creative juices flowing!
I am the smell of old books and the sound of a roaring fireplace. I am a soft blanket on a rainy afternoon. I am a fat orange cat laying on a sun drenched window sill, plotting a way to catch the birds outside. I am painted toenails walking barefoot on damp grass. I am a giant cup of coffee before the sun peaks over the horizon. I am a creaky porch swing on a windy day. I am your mother’s favorite knit scarf and your father’s favorite old record. I am a red leafed maple tree that towers over a quiet cemetery.
Jack is an old mason jar filled with fireflies. He is chocolate chip cookies warm from the oven. He is finding a new detail in your favorite well-read book. He is a paper boat floating down a stream. He is a sparkly stone hidden among the rocks in the garden. He is a song that you almost remember, and a tune that gets stuck in your head. He is sunshine and lemonade on a summer day. He is a rainstorm on a tin roof a midnight.
Sawyer is driving too fast down a curvy gravel road. He is a treasure map with a giant red X. He is a tire swing hanging from the old oak tree in the back yard, the smell after the fireworks on the Fourth of July. He is pipe smoke and a big comfy chair. He is the aftermath of a storm, and the smell after it rains. He is a field of sunflowers. He is the hug you need after your heart has been broken for the first time.
She is the first sunburn of the year. She is sweet tea and cold meat sandwiches, the sound of a flock of birds taking flight. She is the place where the oranges and purples meet in a sunset, the ticking of an old grandfather clock, the roughness of a kittens tongue. She is dust billowing behind the car on a gravel road. She’s an old white barn with crooked doors. She is a burning candle that smells like home.
He is the sad song on the radio that you automatically change. He is sour milk, and too ripe bananas. He is the uneven crack in the sidewalk that you trip over and scrape your knee. He is spilled coffee, flat tires, biting flies. He is a three day hangover, lemon juice in a paper cut. He is the intentional misspelling of your name. He is a snake slithering across the sidewalk right in front of your feet.
She is a cupcake with pink frosting, the sparkly sequin shoes that your mom found at a garage sale. She is loud music and firecrackers on a warm summer’s night. She is the ornate Victorian doll house in the attic, and fancy old dress up clothes. She is a frog on edge of the water. Brand new pens, fuzzy socks, frozen fruit punch. She is an open window on a cool September night.
They were matches and gasoline, pain and pleasure, sex and fast cars. He was the tree engulfed by her flames, and the river flowing through her valley. They were rocket ships that over shot the moon, landing uncontrollably and sinking into the sea.
She is light passing through a prism. She is the sound of birds singing before the sun comes up. She is dew on the grass, a hot shower, having the correct change at the grocery store. She is cool water soaking into the hot sand on the beach. She is a cold beer on a Sunday afternoon. She is a spontaneous road trip, a midnight dance party, a pitcher of margaritas. She is the reflection of the sun off the water.
Life on Fox Acre Farm 