I sat through part of a court case today, and it made me want to be a lawyer…or at least write about one. But not because lawyers get paid well, or get to wear cool robes every day without people getting all judgey and telling them Harry Potter is for kids (well, not just for that). Watching the case gave me a completely new view of the world. I had no idea how creative their job is, taking past cases and fitting them to their current case hoping the resulting picture will say “I win” in big block letters.
Lawyers are creative, and I liked listening to them come up with new ideas to fit their theories. I bet you have to be a good writer to be a lawyer.
I especially enjoyed the frantic backpeddling and attempts at edification (I felt the need to use a big word because all the lawery types made me feel undereducated. So ha, so there, people with advanced degrees. Ha I say.) when an unexpected query came from the bench.
Although I must admit the most attractive part about being a lawyer is the opportunity to move up in the ranks, become a Justice and have everyone call you M’Lord. Well that and getting to talk in court. It’s been two days now where I’ve had to sit still and not talk all day. Seriously I might explode.
I wonder if I can fit a lawyer into any of the stories I’m writing now. I wonder if I put up my hand to talk in court if they’d let me?
What Do You Really See? Look at something really dull in your immediate area. A pencil, a leaf…something mundane. Spend at least five minutes looking at the item, until you start to see it differently, not for what it is physically, but for something you may not have noticed in the past. Now put pen to paper and describe that familiar item that hopefully you are seeing again for the first time.
When you’re done, spend a few moments to appreciate how unique your view point really is. I’d bet not one person would see exactly what you saw because no two people truly see things in the same way, and no two people will ever write about something in exactly the same way.
NB. I chose my cell phone, and after staring at it the phone became irrelevant, and all I wanted to look at were the reflections in the dark screen. The most interesting of which was an upside down cupcake from a birthday card. Neat.
Travel through his room happened via a series of hops between puddles of carpet spread at precisely his stride length. Until I learned the pattern to cross the floor safely I walked tenderly across the layers of cardboard and perforated printer paper, my weight occasionally snapping CDs hidden in the detritus like sand dollars underfoot at low tide.