Kesey and the Kellermans co-author novels why not a Group Hub; collaborative writing inspires and expands point of view
74It's lonely out there
The Pulse of Life Beneath
I invite you to participate in a Group Hub as opposed to a Group Hug! It may be huggably satisfying to join together and write a collaborative collection of stories, poems, and thoughts considering one particular theme.
Writers do it all the time, when invited by an editor, when married to a writer, as teacher in a class, or with a compatible friend.
As editor of this Group Hub, I ask that you produce something titled, The Pulse of Life Beneath.
Together we have more of an opportunity to get it right
- Infinite monkey theorem
The idea that one million monkeys typing would eventually create a work on par with Shakespeare. - The Infinite Monkey Theorem - Urban Winery
IMT gone to the grapes.
Writing Groups
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Collaboration is not a new idea
The concept of group brainstorming has inspired many an industry, classroom and think tank.
In a similar fashion, co-authors work together to create something with more substance than they could create alone.
Cooperative writing fleshes out a concept and gives it added dimension. Rather than presenting a singular perspective, working with other writers adds flesh to the big picture by sharing a variety of insights and experience.
In the case of this hub, I am inviting you to write on a theme. By this, I mean: write a piece related to the phrase, The Pulse of Life Beneath, i.e., what this means in your life. It can be an editorial or a story or a poem that offers insight into any aspect of human nature or the meaning of human experience that comes up while you consider this theme.
With limited space available for comments, your piece will have to be succinct and to the point. I am not imposing any sort of deadline. This could go on for years, for all I care.
My contribution to this hub is the presentation of the idea. The rest I leave to you.
Alone, I fail, together we could create something that is, at minimum, fun!
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Successful collaborations
Fay and Jonathan Kellerman collaborated on Double Homicide.
Ken Kesey and his University of Oregon creative writing class collaborated onCaverns, about which Kesey said, "It started out that there were two rules in the class. One was that you couldn't tell anybody what the plot of the novel was until it was done. The other one was that I made up half the class.... Nothing hampers creativity like too many cooks.... As time went by we came up with the third rule and most important rule. The rule was that we didn't do any composition outside of class...."
Cherie Bennett and Jeff Gottesfeld together wrote the young adult novel, A Heart Divided.
Writing together
- Writing a novel online via collaboration
The Autobiography of Pain is a work in progress described as community driven.
Need help beginning?
1. Do a Madlib: pick a random noun, verb, object and using these choices, write on the theme.
2. Use a writing prompt: pick a starting sentence and, with the theme in mind, begin to write from this point.
3. Pick an emotion and flesh it out using this theme.
4. Think of someone you recently saw on the street, or at the store, or at work. Describe your impression of this person's life regarding this theme, and what this person wants?
Maroon 5 collaborated on this successful song!
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The Pulse of Life Beneath...
was first felt when her wiggly baby toes touched the springy green grass at the edge of the picnic blanket. She managed to to scoot to the coolness and touch it with her fingers. She giggled a baby sound and her little eyes twinkled.
A few years later she walddled behind Grandpa in the vegetable patch asking a hundred questions, and seeing her first ladybug. She couldn't stop herself from touching and retouching the okra stalk. The texture of it being strange and wonderful to her.
In her 6th grade science class she set out to grow roses as her project. And at aged 12 had her first great disappointment when her little bush died. "Don't be sad", Mother told her. "It will come back in a wonderful way". And she was gently told about the cycle of life. How what we think is gone actually is nourishment for what is to come.
She took her first summer job in a greenhouse on the outskirts of town. She planted and watered bedding plants, vegetable seedlings, even boxwoods, and ferns. She saw a hummingbird up close as it darted from one patunia flat to another close to where see stood. She became very tan that pleasant summer, and put her money away.
Before long she was married and a mother. She now had her own vegeatable patch where she grew a hardy bounty, which she canned and put away for the coming winter. She found herslf at peace when she worked in her garden and flower beds. She often worked barefoot, and occassionally wiggled her toes onto the ground while sitting on her bench to take a break.
Her children grew up, as they are meant to do. So she made solo trips to the botanical gardens, and took vacations with her husband to national forests. She collected, and pressed flowers and leaves from the plants she found interesting, and saved them all away. She used them to make bookmarks, laminated onto colorful papers with handwritten poems, then tucked them into nature books she gave to the grandchildren as special gifts.
She passed away at aged 87, requesting in her will to be cremated and her ashes scatter to the wind. She expressed her desire to be part of the wonderful earth that had given her so much.
(Storytellersrus, thank you so much for this wonderful opportunity to be part of each other's imaginations!)
jaspal, friend, I have no power over you. You choose to accept these assignments- to even view them as assignments- or not, silly!
Thank you ma'am .. :) I hope that's the last of the assignments! :p
interesting.. i hope i can write a thing about it, if time allows.
Jaspal, all that angst about what to write and you come up with this! I feel for your difficulties on the green, but this poem made me laugh out loud! And I like that you did not end it happily ever after. In fact, I love the last verse best. Great job, dear student who is not a student writer :).
A third to half the shots on a standard par 72 golf course are putts on the green. The putt requires no strength or effort and is usually the shortest and simplest of shots. Yet, it has been known to unnerve the novice as well as the most proficient of players. Much study has been done about this sudden lack of confidence or “getting the yips” during putting. There are more recommended drills and exercises than there are golf pros for overcoming the yips. But the results, at best, are unpredictable: One day you drop putts from 20 feet away, and on another you miss them even from three feet.
Story, you wanted me to write something profound about what’s beneath the golf course or something silly like what’s beneath the surface of my brain - or was it vice versa? – for this group hub. I am more inflicted by the yips while writing than while putting, but here goes:
Three hundred yards - it was a tee shot to be seen;
Walked to the ball, spotted the flag, so pristine;
A perfect second shot I had and am now on the green;
I’ve marked the ball and lifted it to clean;
Calm, confident and happy am I, life is serene.
Suddenly, doubts arise, they were not foreseen.
The undulating green is deceptive you see,
And I am an amateur not a golf biggie.
I line up the ball, squatting primly,
Then take the stance, plant my feet firmly;
The heart by now is thumping funnily
And there is a weak feeling in the knee.
I take a practice swing or two,
Step up to the ball for a last review,
Tell myself no yips and no snafu,
And I swing the club and follow through;
But that ball, she’s a shrew,
Misses the hole, and I am feeling blue.
Why does this little ball which I wiped clean
Not follow the line selected by my eye so keen?
Is there life and mystery underneath the green?
Or, is it some intrigue of my brain and spleen?
What makes my heart to pound and yips to be seen?
What makes the ball go offline and drunkenly careen?
i love all those but not sure what to put myself yet
These are wonderful!!! And fascinating to recognize the different perspectives. One phrase, so many turns... THANKS!
They sat across the table
Taking two divergent stands
At times the air around them froze
Though both were dubbed firebrands
They never did see eye to eye
And both so brilliant now
It amazed the rest who watched it all
As both with furrowed brow
Did everything to try dislodge
The other from their seat
Not acknowledging the attraction
And the pulse of life beneath.
The Pulse of Life Beneath
Layers we live in
Each person
Like a hotel
They have their stories
In the lobby the pulse is moderate
Upbeat and positive
A little light jazz on the speakers
Smiling front desk people
Some attractive furniture
To greet the public
Over in the lounge
Things get a little more intimate
The pulse stable or quickening
Depending on who is buying
Down in the basement
The basic mechanical pulse
Heating and cooling
Communications
Fire control
Upstairs
In the private rooms
A pulse may be heard
If you listen
The sadness or excitement
Joys or fears
To which the guests are privy
In the penthouse
The owner holds his or her cards
Maintaining a poker face
To all but a privileged few
Allowed to know the innermost
Pulse of the soul
Vibrating in harmony
With eternity
Under the wispy hairs of her belly,
under the warmth that I once knew,
is a place of darkness that held me in its fold too.
You my child began in this place,
a new member of our human race.
'Tis where we all begin before we can breathe
the pulse of life beneath bequeathed.
Great idea - loved the poem, Blake.
I'm coming back with something!
This is a good idea and a great poem Blake! Need to give this some thought, mmmm been thinking about beans, they're also pulses aren't they?
What an awesome beginning, Blake. Thank you from the pulse of life beneath my skin.
The Pulse Of Life Beneath
It's called the liquid core
but no one really knows
They say it's liquid fire
Where the devil burns his toes
The devil roams the earth
But he chatters his teeth
Knowing soon he'll join along
The pulse of life beneath
In time I'll give new life
Recycled to the ground
Worms will eat my body
But I won't make a sound
My soul will float away
Leave my body underneath
A mere sweet dessert for
The pulse of life beneath
Storytellersrus Hub Author 15 months ago
RunAbstract, Thank you for sharing such an endearing character with us. I would like to find and befriend her. I believe she has much to teach... or might that be you?!!!