Verse Stories “A verse story forces me to both characterize and move the story forward with less words than a text in straight prose. As a result I think I do a better job in picking the right words, images, and metaphors. I'd like to say that you need (and get) the same qualities in a prose story but oftentimes (for me) the sheer weight of prose gets in the way of the emotion that I feel I can share when writing in verse. By distilling each feeling in a verse story down to a single line, I am able to get a laser-like focus on the emotional honesty of the story.” Susan Taylor Brown, verse author

Your Goal? “Poetry cuts to the bone of the moment with an emotional image used as a knife.”

Verse Story Beginnings Start by making a list: 10 things I know to be true Go around and discuss with others: – Who has something similar? – Who has something that is opposite of yours? – Who has something you thought you knew everything about, but they have a different angle? – Who has something you have never heard of?

Verse Story Beginnings If you feel like you have a good idea for a verse story, then begin! If not, make another list! Choose one (or two or all of them) from below: – 10 things I should have learned by now – 10 places I will never go again – 10 lies I have told myself – 10 things I have imagined (for myself, for the world, for others) – 10 of my favorite mistakes Choose one thing from one list to write a story about, to reflect on, to think about, to grow from

MAKING VERSE Judith watched as Kenneth, the man she had been in love with for what seemed like years, slowly and affectionately intertwined his long, slender fingers with the petite fingers of another girl's hand. Judith closed her eyes to block out the image, but the scent of coffee— rich, bold, and bitter—still lingered in the air, and the knowledge that it was his coffee was enough to make the inside of her mouth taste and feel like cotton. Kenneth and the other girl remained silent, but the silence spoke volumes about how intimate the moment between them was. A large, painful lump was beginning to form inside of Judith's throat, making it hard to breathe, and she felt as though she might suffocate if she did not flee from the room. Her legs were frozen, however, and would not budge, leaving her with the faintest hope that perhaps the rest of her would soon become just as numb.

I walk behind my biggest nightmare Unseen, undetected Just a mold of their snuggling shadow Almost a part of them, but just one decision too late My love from another life Intertwines his fingers With the girl that was not me My despair tastes like the coffee in the air rich, bold, bitter; No, I take it back – coffee jumps the heart, stirs the soul; This feels like a cotton sock jammed in my throat Remnants of last week’s sweat putrid on my tongue – No chance to breathe or jump or stir. No reason to breathe or jump or stir.