Good morning, friends!
I have a fun writing exercise for you today. It’s one I do with my kids all the time, but I don’t think we’ve ever done one like this before here at Go Teen Writers. Which, honestly, is a bit of a tragedy because it’s simple and so good for stretching those creative writing muscles.
Here’s how it works. I’m going to give you a picture and an opening sentence. Using the picture and your imagination, you’re going to give me a paragraph in the comments section that opens with the sentence I’ve given you.
To force your imagination to get used to writing with structure, I’m going to ask you to follow these two rules:
- Keep your paragraph less than eight sentences.
- Write in first person, past tense.
And don’t forget to come back throughout the weekend to cheer on your friends and see what they come up with.
Here’s your sentence: I haven’t always been a tree.
And your picture:
Now, off you go! Write, write, write! I can’t wait to see what you come up with.
Shannon Dittemore is an author and speaker. Her books include the Angel Eyes trilogy, a supernatural foray into the realm of angels and demons, as well as the fantastical adventure novel Winter, White and Wicked. Its sequel, Rebel, Brave and Brutal is due out January 10, 2023.
Shannon’s stories feature strong female leads grappling with fear and faith as they venture into the wilds of the unknown. She’s often wondered if she’s writing her own quest for bravery again and again.
It’s a choice she values highly. Bravery. And she’s never more inspired than when young people ball up their fist and punch fear in the face.
To that end, Shannon takes great joy in working with young writers, both in person and online at Go Teen Writers, an instructional blog recognized by Writer’s Digest four years running as a “101 Best Websites for Writers” selection.
For more about Shannon and her books, please visit her website, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.
I haven’t always been a tree. Once, I was a little girl who grew up just like we all do. My death devestated my mother, who sprinkled my ashes into the potting soil of a three foot sapling. So I grew, taller than little girls ever really do. Ten foot, then twenty. I also lived longer. I watched as my playmates grew older, as did my brothers. And my killer.
I love this! What a fun ending there!
Very creative! Such a beautiful picture of life through death. 🙂
Wow. Quite the hook at the end! Nice.
This would make an amazing story!
I haven’t always been a tree. Once was I a brave, strong and honored among my people, husband to the great medicine woman Wind Feather and likely one day to be Chief. Yet this was not to be, for the white man, Dagneaux, stole Wind Feather to press my tribe into his war against the fort at Maybrook, and for that I, Two Fish of the Shawnee, took his life. At new moon I found him alone on the hunt he loved so well, and I fell on him in the heat of the day as the cougar falls on the deer, taking from him the name of the white man who held my wife. Stealthy I was, known for my quiet unseen moves on hunt or scout and I stole her back from the white man while he slept. But many white warriors with rifles found us at sunset and I fell before them, yet fearing the Shawnee they refused to harm my wife. So it was that the great medicine woman known as Wind Feather fell onto her own arrow and spilled her life upon the ground with mine to turn us both into trees. Now we reach for the sun by day and dance together in the night wind beneath the stars and moon, and we share happiness in this life.
I love your creativity here! Thank you so much for sharing.
This has all the flavor of a legend told around a campfire. Fun.
I haven’t always been a tree. Many seasons ago, I possessed a beating heart that ached from all I’d endured and lost. When Choice Day came, the Creator granted my wish: I became a tree. Moss grew. Birds sometimes alighted on my limbs before they flew on with nary a goodbye. Life without passion lost flavor and a being without a heart had no place for love. I learned this, because I hadn’t always been a tree.
I love your wordsmithing here! Beautiful.
Thank you. :0)
I haven’t always been a tree. I was once a heartbroken mother, who longed to hold and guide the little girl I had lost. You see, one day, through unfortunate circumstances, my dear little daughter was wrenched away from me and adopted by a noble’s wife. For years I could not come near her and tell her of my love for her, until one day, remembering how one particular oak tree had been a refuge to me as a child, I begged a kind fairy to transform me into a sturdy tree. Reluctantly, she succumbed to my wishes and turned me into an oak tree in the forest where my daughter would walk each day. Whenever my daughter came wandering through the forest, looking lonely and forlorn, I beckoned to her with my leafy branches and soothed her fears with whispers of guidance and love as she told me all of her troubles. Ever since then, I have been a guide and a refuge to every lost or lonely young person who has needed someone to talk to beneath my shady boughs.
Beautiful!
Aww, very poignant. Sounds like she has a gentle soul–love that.
This is so beautiful, Kristianne!! It’s bittersweet; a mother loses her daughter, but she does all she can to still protect her and “sooth her fears”. I love this so much! Wonderful job. <3
Thank you!!
I haven’t always been a tree. No. I was once someone who was admired for my readiness to guide and protect my people. My people on this side of the river loved me, while those across the water looked upon me with burning hate. They thought that that could destroy me by turning me into a creation of wood and leaves. But I will not be silenced. I will return to my original form one day, and they will be the ones silenced.
Lovely!
Thank you! I really love this writing exercise. Please do more of them!
8/ Wouldn’t want to be the ones across *that* river. I can feel the fiery resolve with every sentence.
I haven’t always been a tree. I wished I had never trusted those wretched fairies to begin with-but their offer of eternal beauty was too rich a temptation. It all happened too quickly for me to process, I am still trying to find out how they changed me-and how to change myself back, for I am forever cursed to be tree by day, human by night. Often, I think back to what happened that fateful day. It all started when the fairies appeared at the gates of my castle…
I haven’t always been a tree. My arms weren’t always outstretched and hidden under moss and protected with bark’s knobby embrace. I was once a small girl; I wore sundresses and my bruised arms brushed against the lilies, vibrant in color. I used to live for the sweet aroma of the lilies, and feeling of the sun coddling my small body with rays of warmth; providing energy to my neglected body. Yes, I used to be a girl, small and vulnerable to the world, a small taste of innocence to their bloodthirsty tongues. But, I wanted to be a a lifesaver, like the field of lilies was to me. I wanted to be there when a small girl wants to cry under the protection of my arms—my branches, when one small and hungry needs nourishment, when one needs protection. Yes, I haven’t always been a tree, but here I stand, strong and raised to be whatever it is one may need.
I hope you guys enjoy as this excerpt is very special! As always all constructive critique is welcome!! <3 (I've enjoyed reading everyone's comments, as you all are very talented and unique!)
Such a beautiful picture! I can really see the scene through your words. 🙂
Thank you so much! 😀
I haven’t always been a tree. Yesterday I was a man. Until then I had no inkling of what it was like to truly feel. Yes, trees can feel–the sun warms our leaves, the wind caresses our trunks, the earth cools and swaddles our roots–but the great feelings like love and hope are not ours to have. But yesterday a sprite made me a man, and I could feel, really *feel*. The sun was my guide, the wind was my breath, and the earth was my foundation, and I had a heart. The enchantment didn’t last, of course: I’m a tree again today. But I can still think, I can still move–and I can still feel.
Very interesting! I like the imagery.
I haven’t always been a tree. But I have always been small, green, and kind of slimy. I’d slip through lumberjack’s fingers as they tried to catch me after I’d stolen their lunch yet again. You have no idea how much fun it is – er, was – to watch their faces grow red, bellowing in their absurd language while they loped about and tried to catch me. Funny, senseless mortals. Didn’t they know that trees grow back, no matter how much you chop them down? So I toyed with them, for what felt like a couple of, I don’t know, weeks? Until those darned mortals went and got themselves a mage.
Very intriguing! I like your word choice.
I haven’t always been a tree. Or maybe I have. It’s hard to remember what it was like to not have branches or green moss on my bark. To not feel the wind through my leaves. Maybe I was a strong creature, like the ones I see pass by. Maybe I was a bird that flew in they sky. Such long ago I knew I had moved and walked and saw the world, now I see the world pass me.
I haven’t always been a tree. I used to be tiny, hanging high above in the air, surrounded by leaves. The world above was all I knew, until I tumbled downwards, sinking into the earth, buried by the leaves that fell with me. I don’t know how long I lay down there, cut off from the sun and air, but eventually I began to spread, small pieces of me spreading through the dirt, exploring my new world. I grew, upwards as well as downwards, until I finally broke back into the world above. Animals would trample me, eat me, shelter under my new leaves, but still I grew, twisting through two world. Now I am once again high above in the air that was once all I knew, but now I know the world below as well, and I cannot detach myself from it. Now the tiny seeds I once was grow on me, and one day they too will tumble down and everything will be as it has been.
Interesting perspective. Good job!
I love this!! I love how you right from the tree’s point of view! Wonderful job!
*write
I haven’t always been a tree. I was once small, fluffy, and loved. When my human was put in the ground, I lay above them, unmoving no matter the weather or other humans who tried to lure me away. Eventually, what I was began to fade away, and I transformed into something new. Now I grow big, rough, and loved, still guarding my human no matter the weather or humans who try to cut me down. I am loved, and I will love, even if I am no longer what I was.
I haven’t always been a tree. Or maybe I have. It’s hard to remember what it was like to not have branches or green moss on my bark. To not feel the wind through my leaves. Maybe I was a strong creature, like the ones I see pass by. Maybe I was a bird that flew in they sky. Such long ago I knew I had moved and walked and saw the world, now I see the world pass me.
I haven’t always been a tree. I liked to think I had been something else before, but I’ve grown to learn now that what I like never really matters in the long run. I would have liked to have my memories if I didn’t surrender my will, but would I be able to comprehend what they’ll bring? I thought maybe knowing that would make this existence seem brighter, bring some meaning to these gnarled branches, but I would be wrong. I watched the creatures of the forest pass me every day, seen birds and deer grow from birth and stand helpless as I saw their hunters take shelter beneath me. I watched the world pass me by a thousand times and did nothing. Nothing. And one day I thought, standing in the forest, that maybe, just maybe, I’d figure out why I was ever put here in the first place.
I haven’t always been a tree. Still, the moment I changed I knew I would never regret it. I no longer had the feet of a wandering gypsy; I now have roots that run deep into the earth I know and love. Nothing in my wooden body and sap flowing through my veins misses my frail, undernourished arms, now replaced by these arching bows. The stringy blond hair that once hung from my head no longer sits here. My green leaves glowing in the bright sun have taken its place. I regret nothing. And oh, the thing that brings me the most joy is that I have a forest where my roots run deep, where I have a place to call home.
I haven’t always been a tree. I was Tarabai Maharaja, great and powerful, terror of all, giver and taker of life. But in the end, karma caught up with even I. Those who hated me said I would come back as an insignificant insect or a lowly lizard, but instead, when I stepped back onto the wheel of life, imagine my surprise when I found myself a tiny sapling in the foothills of the mountains. At first I felt blessed – no short and lowly insect life for me. No, I would grow mighty and strong again. But, oh, I did not understand. I have lived for hundreds of year trapped here in this one spot on the wheel, unable to improve my karma, unable to win my release from the wheel. Please, kill me now, cut me down, I beg you! Free me so that I may move forward with the wheel again.
I haven’t always been a tree.
I used to be the jewelers daughter. I would cut diamonds and string pearls, hold sparkling gems that women would pay stacks of gold for. However, those women no longer wanted to pay for their treasures…
The queen one day, while twisting her pearls in front of me, said how wonderful it would be if I could just give away my jewelry, like an apple tree gives away its fruit.
She cast the spell then and there.
With a flash I felt more part of the earth than I ever have. The queen now visits me everyday to see if she can pluck raw pearls from my leaves.
But I do not grow pearls. Nor jewels, or gems. I can only hide them in the earth now, I give them to the fish for scales, the birds for feathers, and the cats for eyes.
However, the queen can not find these gems. For she does not know what real beauty is…
Ooh, I really like this one!
I really like what you did with that one. Here is mine.
I haven’t always been a tree. I once was a laughing, coaxing nymph that lived by my father’s river. I remember the days I would sit by the water and sing with my sisters, wondering how mortals could take the world so seriously when all creation seemed to sing with me for happiness. I was a rather shallow thing, living for life alone.
But one day all that changed. A man found me. He wanted me, and I ran, saved only when my father changed me to a laurel, hiding my maidenly beauty from prying eyes. That day has changed my perspective of the world, for I see now that the pleasures of the world are short and fleeting; that the only lasting joy comes from Something Greater, Something Better than this passing life.
Or perhaps Someone.
I love what you did with the nymph’s story. I found the the ending really charming, the way you captilized Something, Something, then Someone, really made the ending sparkle.
Thank you!
I haven’t always been a tree. I used to be a Lumberjack by trade, felling trees here, there, and yonder. It wasn’t until one day that I was cutting down a tree. Red liquid like blood oozed out. When I tried to run, I saw that my feet were rooted to the ground, I realized that I was turning into a tree. So that’s the story of how I became a tree. If only I had never cut down that tree, I wouldn’t be firewood today.
I haven’t always been a tree. I was once a normal girl. But I also had a secret: I was a dragon queen, Moss of the Tree Flyers. Unfortunately, I used my magic carelessly. I abused Maple, one of my best friends, and she finally gathered an army against me. I was killed, and she buried me. Far too quickly I grew into a mossy tree.
I haven’t always been a tree. It’s becoming harder to remember. Everyday, I would watch the sun rise above the branches of my sisters and I would whisper this to myself. Whenever I’d felt the moss creeping up my trunk – dress – or feel a squirrel jump around my branches to chase its mate – you mean your arms, not branches, Kate – then I would whisper this mantra – it became a way to keep alive. Not like poor Elsie, who sat next to me all hollow and rotten out – who’d forgotten what she was before. But sometimes it was hard for me to remember. They told us it would be, after a while, but that we would have to try our best and hang on until someone comes to save us. I just didn’t know if I could.
Ooo! I need to find out what happens next! You should write a short story about this. It was really good!
I agree with Elizabeth, I would love to read a short story about this! Wonderful job!
I haven’t always been a tree. I can still remember the day it all happened, though it was so long ago. For years after that fateful morning, everything I’d ever known slowly died and turned to dust, and I never seemed to notice, seeing only the seasons changing below me and feeling the wind softly shake my leaves. It must’ve been a thousand years that passed before I awoke. It was the old sparrow, if I remember correctly, who resolved to rouse me from my sleep. I will never forget the feeling of the mist that covered my eyes disappear as my old friend whispered those gentle words to me. Despite all the beautiful things I saw, from the moment I opened my eyes and stepped into the warm sun, I knew nothing would ever be the same.
Very well written! It’s very captivating to me as a reader, and that is very important quality to have as a writer. Beautifully done, I’m in awe! <3
Thanks!
I haven’t always been a tree. Several months ago I was a girl- not just any girl, but a member of a race of enchanted beings. We appear human, but our hearts pump a deep magic through our blood, and our souls entwine with that of the ancient forest we call home.
It was the midst of spring when I made the foolish choice to walk alone through an unfamiliar grove, and there I stumbled upon the Evil One and her counsel plotting their next attack. She turned me into a gnarled, mossy tree, believing that being made of wood and leaves would leave me incapable of thought and speech. You would think that a villain such as her would be smarter, that they’d educate themselves on their surroundings and know that the trees of this forest are conscious beings who can hear any secret spilled before them and send messages to one another through their roots like pulses flowing through neurons. The Evil One thought turning me into a tree would silence me. If anything, the twisted fool did just the opposite.