A whole new genre…

Crossing genres is always fun, and so when I saw this Buzzfeed listing titled “If Pop Songs Were Works of Classic Literature,” there was no way I wasn’t clicking to see. The results are wonderful, overly writerly passages based on silly pop ditties and I loved every one of them. Here’s my shot at one:


“One could hardly blame her for her prejudices. She was, after all a blue-blooded, white-collared, silver-spoon fed debutante who had never known anything beyond the ivy-clad walls in which she’d spent her formative years.

“It was hardly Penelope’s fault, then, that it took four years of skipping home from Madame Delphine’s Dance Académie surrounded by the trills and chatter of the very best of her friends, ballet shoes slung over their shoulders, for her to even notice him, the boy in artful tatters and skinned knees whose eyes followed her with a longing that could only be matched by the fervor with which he practiced his art over and over again.

“It seemed unlikely, this, the ballet princess and the gutter punk, and perhaps, maybe it was. But the best stories are the unlikely ones, are they not?”

I wrote that sample off the cuff with no edits, and that’s half the fun. Writing with the purpose of being groan-inducing and completely purple is kind of one of my favorite sorts of writing exercises. It’s really freeing when you intentionally remove not only the self-imposed need to self-edit, but make the whole point of the exercise a chance to poke fun at your most frustrating tendencies (mine are, obviously, dreamy imagery, extra-long and confusing sentences).

So have at it. Do your worst (really) and let me know what you come up with! I promise, it’s fun, and writing for writing’s sake is the best practice there is.

2 Responses to A whole new genre…

  1. Katie Newingham says:

    This is a great exercise and I love your interpretation of skater boy – there’s always another side. I’m going to be thinking about this while listening to the soundtrack of our daily adventure. If I come up with something good, ill jot it down and post it.

  2. Katie Newingham says:

    Amos Lee ‘s Mission Bell.

    My pieces were shattered on the floor, not to be put together again. It was time to go.

    I left them in their beds sleeping; they were better off without me.

    My beat up pick up truck would take me the rest of way to empty: where tears could no longer form, where old habits would end, where the broken could mend.

    Then a voice, a quiet one, not like the crazy of a bad acid trip, but peaceful like a child’s voice said, “Who do you call to ease your pain?” I recognized the voice though I’d never heard it before and that left me with a strange feeling – much the same as when I held each of my children for the firs time – they were a part of me and yet they were their own.

    I rolled my window down – felt the wind off my hand. It was cool to the touch and through the white noise the voice became louder, “There’s hope for you to ease this pain.”

    Then I remembered this voice. It was an old friend, but miles of rocky roads drove us apart, and now my companion had become fear.

    I looked up to the sky – The sun was rose high above the moon. In front of me was a deadend with deep water on the other side. I turned around and left my windows rolled down.

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