642 Things- Whittemore (actually) Writes!

This blog is titled Whittemore Writes not just because I believe it rolls off the tongue and I'm a fan of alliteration, but because it was originally meant to be a blog to showcase my writing! However, for the past eight months I haven't wanted to write at all. I always admired Flannery O'Connor because she would get up early every morning and sit at her typewriter for a set number of hours, or all day if she was on to something good. Writing is about habit, not inspiration as so many think, and I'm finding that to be more true every single day. I don't think my lack of writing had to do with a lack of inspiration. I find inspiration in even the smallest things: an off-handed comment, small notebooks, unexpectedly good conversations with friends, to name a few.

I was shopping with my girlfriend a few weeks ago when I picked up this book. 642 things to write about. 642 things. 642! That's a whole heck of a lot. My goal: to completely fill up this book, cover to cover, in a year. I'll be posting one or two things a week depending on length, and for the first time, really opening myself to critique. I'm apprehensive because I know the internet can be often times a mean place. However, I want to hear it all. Everything you've got to throw at me, I'm ready to hear it! If you think something sucks, tell me! But also, tell me why you think it sucks. Also understand I am very rusty as far as putting pen to paper, and hopefully these segments will improve over time. Without further ado, here is the first one!

Prompt: Write from this quote from Claude Levi-Strauss, "I am the place in which something has occurred."

My response: I am the place where this love happened. You touched the valley of my waist, kissed the basin of my collar bones, traversed my spine with your fingertips. You jumped ship after one night, you are climbing someone else's mountains. I am a place- my body a battleground of medication and my own corrupt chemistry. There is no "favorite" -money is not being exchanged on the sidelines. Soon my body will be memorialized with a plaque, dates and a name over useless earth. How does it feel to have razed a city, exploited an ecosystem, and carried on seeking your own ends? How does it feel to have had someone who drank your poison disguised as love, so you could exploit their resources?

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What do you guys think? What could I have done better? Differently? How would you have answered the prompt? Leave me comments!