Imagine This...

Our class assignment was simple: write a few brief paragraphs to make your reader feel something. The idea was to use as many descriptive words as possible. Make them feel the sun on their skin, the sand between their toes; smell the scent of the flowers, see the beauty of the garden; hear the car horns honking and the squeal of tires as someone brakes; taste the sweet honey or the salty chips.

This was our first assignment in Professional Report Writing. The instructor wanted us to be as descriptive and imaginative as possible, then inform us that report writing was the opposite - no more flowery descriptions in the class. She wanted us to get it out of our systems.

Luckily for me, she was also my teacher for Public Speaking. I had shocked her with my speeches. Though I was scared to death to be in front of an audience, I seemed to have a knack for getting people's attention and presenting dull information in an entertaining way.

She also learned that I was an aspiring writer. I even let her read some of my first story. So, she was not surprised when I read my assignment out loud to the class - she purposely left me for last. She knew that I would go outside the box and present it in a way that nobody else would even consider doing. I would twist things around, yet still follow the assignment to the letter.

Describing the five senses seemed boring to me - sight, sound, touch, taste, smell. I wanted to make them really feel - feel emotions, not physical senses. The reaction in the class was electrifying. I had them lulled into an almost hypnotic state. I walked them through quite a few emotions and watched as they reacted exactly the way I wanted them to. It was a powerful feeling that I have never forgotten.

Anyway, here is a rewritten version of that paper:

Imagine yourself walking in your front door at the end of a long day at work or school. You are finally home.

Every bone in your body is tired. Your head droops, nearing sleep. You dragged yourself the last few yards to your front door.

Walking inside, you lock the door before setting down your briefcase or books. Nothing else matters right now - you collapse into a chair.

Putting your feet up onto the coffee table, you close your eyes and try to relax. Try to forget all the issues of your day.

Deep breath in...
Deep breath out...

Force your muscles to go limp and clear your mind of today's clutter of thoughts. Nothing matters now. Everything can wait until morning.

Deep breath in...
Deep breath out...

You nearly drift off to sleep, but pull yourself back to reality. Your bed would be more comfortable than the chair, yet the chair feels too good to leave.

Opening your eyes is a struggle. Drained of energy, you sit and ponder your life, taking the time to enjoy your home. Home, a place we all take for granted.

You have a home. Others are homeless, without a chair to sit in or a bed to sleep in.

You are warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Others live on the street, facing nature and fighting for their lives.

You have food in the kitchen while others starve.

You have a television and stereo for entertainment. You have books to read and a comfortable place to read them.

You sit silently, relishing your prosperous life, your pleasant home. This is the reason you suffer the indignities of work and/or school. This is the result of your labors - and you love your home.

You watch the birds flying outside your window, lighting on the branches and ruffling their feathers.

A squirrel darts onto the branch, chasing off the birds. The furry little critter turns and looks at you, cocking his head sideways as if saying "What are you looking at, bud?"

You stand up with a groan and a stretch. It was good to sit and relax after your hard day; but if you don't start moving now, you never will.

The kitchen is tidy, as usual. Opening a loaf of bread, you pull out a slice and crumble it in your hand.

Then you walk toward the window, holding out your handful of bread crumbs toward the tiny squirrel in the tree. You stop halfway across the room to keep from scaring him away.

But he's not scared. Apparently, he has been fed by humans in the past. He jumps from the tree branch onto the window sill.

You don't want to scare him off by moving too fast. One step at a time, closer to the window. You're afraid that he will dart off if you move too quickly. He'll probably run away when you open the window, anyway.

You watch as his tail twitches. He stands on his hind legs and looks to either side of the room, then hops inside to the carpet.

The breadcrumbs fall forgotten to the floor. You have never left a window open in your life.

Suddenly there is a thud in the next room and you realize that you are not alone...

The room was filled with gasps and squeals! Most of the women complained of goose bumps. My assignment was complete - I made them feel. Peaceful, secure, comfortable, happy - then I took it all away in an instant and replaced it with shock, surprise, anticipation, fear.

My 'story' was a huge success. The teacher borrowed it to read to her other classes. However, she was concerned that my creativity would hinder my progress in a class where creative thinking was discouraged - I was warned to be careful. Professional Report Writing was not a creative endeavor.

I proved her wrong and showed her that creativity could be integrated into professional reports. It's a fine line to walk, but it can be done. The trick is to be creative with your idea, but present it logically and professionally.

Our next assignment was to present the Pros and Cons of an issue. Everyone else chose subjects like abortion, energy, nuclear warfare, the death penalty, or gay rights. My subject, true to what she expected from me, was: Is Man The Only Intelligent Life In The Universe?

Maybe I'll post that one on Writing.Com someday!