Fly tying.
Spell casting.
Arm breaking. Cast forming.
Writing your name on a friend’s cast would be “cast spelling.”
Writing your name under a table would be covert vandalism.
Writing your name in the snow is whizzing.
Writing your name in a tree is woodcarving.
Writing your name in clouds is skywriting. Writing with paper and pen while on an airplane is not skywriting.
Writing someone else’s name on a bathroom stall is graffito. Writing a lot of names on a bathroom stall would be graffiti.
Smacking the keyboard with a stick would be: q3targh’ankmvz.
Writing the governor is petitioning.
Writing 256 characters is tweeting. . . or at least it used to be. Now it’s probably called Ecksing, or X-ing, Musk-ing, or whatever they’ve decided to call it now.
Writing alien characters is science fiction-ing.
Writing poetry could be rhyming, while writing poetry to a beat would be rapping. Rap stars love chromed cars, eat rich like Russian tsars, poets trip on a lip, their muse a whip to keep them hip, tuning in to get a grip, rocking like a hurricane, nothing is real if you drug up your brain, smack the keys with a stick, why would you want to be a—poet, if they never have a payday?
Writing a eulogy would make you a “survivor.” Therefore, writing a eulogy is surviving. If you feel like surviving, get writing those eulogies.
Writing while stargazing is Carl Sagan-ing.
Writing on a rocking boat is sea-sickening.
Writing a message and putting it in a bottle and throwing it in the ocean is littering—unless you’re in distress somehow, then it’s SOSing.
Writing while fishing is Jacques Cousteau-ing.
Writing from the belly of the whale would be Jonah-ing.
Arm mending. Bone strengthening.
Spool winding.
Hook finding.
Xenosthesia.com 