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Creative Non-Fiction Imitation Paragraph #4

Imitation Paragraph

“Somehow Form a Family” – Early

            My dad would get home from work and immediately instruct me to put on my baseball glove. His work ethic was no less impressive than Cal Ripken Jr. Sometimes, if I was already outside, he would not even go into the house. He would place his lunch box by the door and come right out to toss with me. His consistency paralleled the hitting of Tony Gwynn. My dad taught me how to play the game of baseball. He instilled within me an understanding of the game that I have not seen from my many teammates over the years. In those days, baseball was known for its speed and defense. Rickey Henderson, Tim Raines, and Willie McGee were demons on the bases, stealing easily. I wanted to hit the ball like Mike Schmidt and play defense like Ozzie Smith. My dad helped me; he gave me the tools I would need to succeed as a baseball player. Unfortunately, my father was a small man and he gave that to me as well. The high school baseball coach was looking for “strength and power,” and could not justify letting a five-foot-nothing, ninety pound kid on his team. I would love to tell you that I overcame size prejudices and became a star, but I cannot. I never played baseball again.


Posted by on September 10, 2014 in Uncategorized


Imitation Paragraph #3

Imitation Paragraph

“Consider the Lobster” – Wallace

            One cool October afternoon, I was told by my manager at work that I needed to head to the Dynasty clinic for a random drug analysis.* It is a strange feeling. Even though I knew that I had not taken any drugs, I was still concerned. Had I eaten anything recently that had poppy seeds? I took some ibuprofen last week; do I need to tell them? I wondered if my being picked was truly random, or if they had some reason for choosing me that I could not put my finger on. Regardless, my fear only served to heighten my awareness. I noticed a small box suspended on the wall in the waiting room. I nervously inspected the writing on the container; it was a comment box. The words “WE HOPE YOU HAVE A POSITIVE EXPERIENCE” were plastered there. I laughed. The lady called my name.  

            “Your comment box made me laugh,” I stated in an attempt to make the strange walk through the colorless halls bearable. She stared blankly at me. “I know I certainly don’t want a positive experience when I am going for a drug test,” I chuckled.

            Again there remained that blankness about the nurse as she replied, “We accept negative feedback as well.” I realized that not all people are clever.



*According to company policy, employees can be drug tested for these reasons: pre-employment, reasonable suspicion, post-accident, post-rehabilitation, and random quarterly testing.  


Posted by on September 9, 2014 in Uncategorized


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Creative Non-Fiction Class

Imitation Paragraph #2

Beard “The Fourth State of Matter”

One.Two.Three.Four. I find myself on first base. Apparently people don’t like it when you say they are scared. Why else would this guy roll me four straight pitches? He stands in my face, fists drawn. I wonder if he really would break my nose. Stoicism in the face of his tirade seems to break the man from his unfounded rage. 

I am on my front porch, staring at the same man that threatened me. He is running for a local political office. His dangling flyer causes me much more alarm than his clenched fists ever could have. Are these the people that run our community? I stare at him, just as blankly as I did two years prior. I realize that his words are like a receipt to me, disregarded and forgotten as soon as they are given. 

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Posted by on September 6, 2014 in Uncategorized


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Creative Non-Fiction Class

Imitation Paragraph #1 

Hemley “Reading History to my Mother”

I see the birdhouse, hanging lopsided on the weather-worn pole. I don’t have any shoes on. I took them off so that I wouldn’t track dirt into the house. The path is only slightly worn, but still the risk of stickers in the grass causes me pause. I look at the birdhouse, then at the grass. My eyes finally settle on my lily-white feet, spoiled by the comforts of socks and expensive tennis shoes. My father ambles up next to me.

“Anything in the birdhouse?”

“Nope,” I reply. “Hollow.”


Posted by on September 5, 2014 in Uncategorized


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