free write

Today during my American Lit class we were talking about "local color" in literature and how some stories can only happen in certain places at certain times. This is what came out of my ten minute free write. It's rough, but it's a start and I'd like to someday expand it.

Balmy summer nights begin with pizza and friends on the tailgate of a rusty blue Ford next to a small khaki Chevy four-door with blankets strewn between. Frisbees fly on children's laughter as small orbs of light float, eluding capture as the picture projects on a screen in the sky. Semi's add their sound effects to the latest action flick. I giggle with friends curled up and we wonder about those caught in an embrace behind the white brick snack shed, shadows cast on their face from the moon and from flickering farm lights. The same kind found on every rural property from the Mississippi to the Missouri along highway 30 or I-30 or highway 20, but what teenagers here have on hot summer nights in not-so-secret kisses in front of an outdoor picture show. The glow of cell phones are new to a nostalgic call back to the classic cars and soda fountain that once graced these small knolls. Instead of Nixon and Vietnam, we rode through summer on Bush-isms and Iraq waiting to turn 18. Instead of the Beatles and flower power, there was Green Day and the fervent need to leave this small town behind.

That's it for now. Tell me what you think!