The JUST WRITE SOMETHING Challenge | Day 7

I always find writing fiction to be so much easier than non-fiction. With fiction, everything seems limitless. It doesn't matter how crazy your characters are or the events that take place. As long as you create a world where anything can happen, then anything can.  On the other hand, writing non-fiction is completely different. It's about showing and telling the truth. In this case, telling your truth, which I think makes it so much more difficult.

I want to know which is easier for you, writing fiction or non-fiction? Why?

Yesterday's writing: 

The first thought I had when I sat down to write answer this question, was my favorite herb is lemon balm. I love the lemony aroma it gives off when you rub your fingers against the leaves. The scent lingers on your skin as if you’re wearing nature’s perfume. However, that is as far as my love for the herb goes. I’ve never used in a recipe, stirred into a cup of tea, or used it for aromatherapy. My knowledge of lemon balm stops once I describe its scent.

I decided to look at the question in a different way. Instead of solely focusing on my “favorite herb,” I thought about which herb has the most significant meaning to me. With that in mind, I knew right away the answer was rosemary.

I’ve never liked the scent of rosemary. Its strong aromatic scent would fill up the kitchen, drift into the air vents, and linger throughout every room in the house. My most vivid memory of the herb was about five or six years ago when I was in high school. I had a cold and a stuffy nose. Instead of going to the doctor, my mom made me stand front of the stove with a damp towel over my head while I breathed in the steam from a pot of boiling rosemary. That was when my official hatred for rosemary started.

Then I went off to college, I became homesick. I tried calling home, watching my favorite movies on Netflix, or reading my favorite book but nothing really helped. Until one night, I went to the dining hall, and they had rosemary roasted potatoes. And that was it. I couldn’t believe that the thing that made me not miss home was that damned herb. But it did. Maybe there were so many memories wrapped up in those tiny oblong leaves, that they transported me back into my room at home. When I moved into an apartment for my last three years of school, I always made sure that I had rosemary on hand. Whenever I started to feel homesick, I’d drop a few leaves into whatever I was cooking, and I always felt like I was at home.

Today's writing prompt: 
Have you ever carved a pumpkin? What did you design? Describe the experience. 


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