I Can Honestly Say…

Three words: Skiing is AWESOME!!!  Right now, I’m on a mini-vacation with my extended family, and we are having a blast skiing.  It’s my first time skiing, and at first, I was kinda scared: the first time seems so fast and crazy.  But I’ve gotten the hang of it now, and I love feeling the rush of wind in my face and the snow under my skis.  It got me thinking (since I was skiing at night), what if your characters were in a situation where they had to slid/run down an icy mountain in the dark?  How would they feel?  This was particularly relevant to my characters, as there are times where they are traveling through snowy lands and mountain ranges.  When you’re skiing, you’re scared to fall, but usually once you do, it’s no big deal.  What if, for your characters, falling meant the difference between life and death?  Falling into the enemy’s hands, or escaping?  Using your personal experiences in your writing creates a lot of depth in a story.  You understand what it’s like to be in that situation, so it’s a lot easier to convey it, to add details that are easy to follow.  If your story is so complicated that people have a hard time following it, whether in storyline or vocabulary, it’s time to get feedback on your story.  Good, honest feedback.  Even if you don’t think it’s complicated, have someone read it anyway, because they might not understand it as well as you might.  The details of the situation/experience could be making your story puzzling, leaving someone saying, “What?  This doesn’t make any sense!”  I suggest finding two or three people who you can send your stories to, who won’t blab about it to their friends.  They will be your personal critics, and your writing will be all the better for it! 🙂

CHALLENGE: Write a story using an experience you’ve had this past week, even if it’s as boring as doing the dishes.

QUESTION: Have you ever gone skiing?


4 thoughts on “I Can Honestly Say…

  1. Yeah, I’ve been skiing in the Austrian Alps. But that isn’t nearly as fun as it may seem.
    Problem #1: The ski instructor knew around two and a half words of English. Two of which I could never quite understand.
    Problem #2: In America, we have ‘ski slopes’. In Austria, they have ‘ski cliffs’. ‘Nuff said.
    Problem #3: Well, we were actually sledding, not skiing, when the third problem happened. Let’s just say that in Austria they sharpen logs and set them on ski slopes. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right? So, here’s the story:
    Eight year old Jonathan was climbing- racing, actually- to the top of the ski slope, tiny red plastic sled in hand. My sister Claire was a few steps behind me and my German friend Maxi was a bit ahead. My older sister Anna and her friend Annie were almost to the top of the hill. We were all mummified in coats, scarves, jackets, boots, and layer upon layer of socks.
    When I was getting fairly near the top of the hill, I saw the sled with Anna and Annie go screeching down to my right. Maxi beat me to the top of the hill, laughed with pleasure, and then followed after Annie and Anna. Claire and I finished our journey to the top, sat down, and instantly went careening down the side of the hill.
    Another thing- American ski slopes don’t have trees growing in the middle of them. In Austria? No such luck.
    I swerved around a tree, and then the spinning started. Snow whipped around me, I lost my sled, and soon I was tumbling head over heels down the cliff. I saw Claire doing the same, curled into a huge ball of insulated clothing. A girl’s blood-curdling scream ripped through the air as I smashed into net at the bottom of the slope, groaning. Claire was a second behind me.
    When I finally got up, I instantly knew something was wrong.
    Snow is supposed to be white.
    The scarlet snow crunched under my feet as I raced towards Maxi, who was lying on the ground, clutching his bloody head. He had sledded under an ice cutter and would have to get twelve stitches once the ambulance raced him to the hospital. I glanced over and saw Anna sprawled out over the ground, face contorted with pain. She had run into one of those piles of sharpened logs after valiantly pushing Annie off the sled. She had bruised one side of her body black and blue, and would take several days to recover. Claire, Annie, and I were all dazed but okay.
    Our parents, however, were mortified.
    And that is why I have never quite enjoyed snow sports so much.
    The end.

  2. My experience in the Swiss Alps was very similar to Jonathan’s actually.

    Primary differences:
    1) My instructor spoke NO English
    2) Snowboarding off of cliffs is dangerous. AKA: Don’t do it
    3) My friend tried to warn me but her warnings were lost in translation due to the fact that I speak NOOOO German
    4) I was the one who landed in the logs -.-

    Long story short, do not attempt to snowboard in the Swiss Alps if you speak no German or if you have a fear of pointy logs xD

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