Sunday, August 28, 2011
Write Starts: Creative Prompts to get You Writing! Part 5
I recently received a wonderful gift: a thin journal filled with the most randomly outrageous and mundane prompts, all in the hopes to get the writer inside of me to write. I will do my best to fill this book. I'll keep this short and sweet. Now let's go!
Write Starts: Creative Prompts to get You Writing! Part 4
I recently received a wonderful gift: a thin journal filled with the most randomly outrageous and mundane prompts, all in the hopes to get the writer inside of me to write. I will do my best to fill this book. I'll keep this short and sweet. Now let's go!
Prompt: Describe a dream you've had.
We were flying high in the sky. He and I. He was in all brown with a chocolate derby hat and brown suit on.
He looked like Morgan Freeman.
We were among the clouds, hooting and hollering. There was something I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't find the words. It was something that I couldn't translate, but it was this feeling of pure, unadulterated joy.
The lights from down below were searching for us, wanting to celebrate with us. To share, to be a part of our happiness. But this day, this night belonged to he and I. The lights cast as bigger-than-life shadows among the stars.
It was day again. And he was gone. No longer by my side. I flew back down and on a small patch of grass was a small piece of granite. On it, etched solidly was: "Mr. Jones".
Prompt: Describe a dream you've had.
We were flying high in the sky. He and I. He was in all brown with a chocolate derby hat and brown suit on.
He looked like Morgan Freeman.
We were among the clouds, hooting and hollering. There was something I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't find the words. It was something that I couldn't translate, but it was this feeling of pure, unadulterated joy.
The lights from down below were searching for us, wanting to celebrate with us. To share, to be a part of our happiness. But this day, this night belonged to he and I. The lights cast as bigger-than-life shadows among the stars.
It was day again. And he was gone. No longer by my side. I flew back down and on a small patch of grass was a small piece of granite. On it, etched solidly was: "Mr. Jones".
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Write Starts: Creative Prompts to get You Writing! Part 3
I recently received a wonderful gift: a thin journal filled with the most randomly outrageous and mundane prompts, all in the hopes to get the writer inside of me to write. I will do my best to fill this book. I'll keep this short and sweet. Now let's go!
Write Starts: Creative Prompts to get You Writing! Part 2
I recently received a wonderful gift: a thin journal filled with the most randomly outrageous and mundane prompts, all in the hopes to get the writer inside of me to write. I will do my best to fill this book. I'll keep this short and sweet. Now let's go!
Prompt: Write the Ending First
Last Sentence: A truck was oncoming, its headlights shining brightly.
I don't believe in you. But what I believe and what is actuality has long been separated. We are all ghosts, floating and lost on some permanent but ephemeral plane. I run after you, my love, so I can finally sleep. So I am no longer a ghost. I don't need to be happy. I just need you back somehow.
You dash under streetlights, shimmering from the yellow spotlight above. The dust casts a haze. For a second, I wonder if it's you. And I see the broach. I know it's you. It has to be you. I need it to be you.
I stop between two lamp posts. A taxi stops in front of me. I wave him off. He drives away and across the empty street, the shadow of a man stands next to you. It's you. No doubt. I hungrily stumble onto the black tar. The shadow steps forward. It's the doctor.
He has no expression but I know he's smiling. "Welcome to the realm". Blaring sounds. I look left. A truck was oncoming, its headlights shining brightly.
Prompt: Write the Ending First
Last Sentence: A truck was oncoming, its headlights shining brightly.
I don't believe in you. But what I believe and what is actuality has long been separated. We are all ghosts, floating and lost on some permanent but ephemeral plane. I run after you, my love, so I can finally sleep. So I am no longer a ghost. I don't need to be happy. I just need you back somehow.
You dash under streetlights, shimmering from the yellow spotlight above. The dust casts a haze. For a second, I wonder if it's you. And I see the broach. I know it's you. It has to be you. I need it to be you.
I stop between two lamp posts. A taxi stops in front of me. I wave him off. He drives away and across the empty street, the shadow of a man stands next to you. It's you. No doubt. I hungrily stumble onto the black tar. The shadow steps forward. It's the doctor.
He has no expression but I know he's smiling. "Welcome to the realm". Blaring sounds. I look left. A truck was oncoming, its headlights shining brightly.
Write Starts: Creative Prompts to get You Writing! Part 1
I recently received a wonderful gift: a thin journal filled with the most randomly outrageous and mundane prompts, all in the hopes to get the writer inside of me to write. I will do my best to fill this book. I'll keep this short and sweet. Now let's go!
Prompt: Department store dummies have come alive! What happens next?
Dear Abigail,
I am writing you from the children's dressing room at Macy's. There isn't much time. I want to take this time to let you know that I've loved you. From the moment I wake up and I put on my make-up, I say a little prayer for you. Dammit, sorry. That song suddenly came on over the speakers.
By the time you've received this letter (if you receive it), I may be long gone. They probably want me first. From that time I placed one guy's hand on the other's butt. Or the time I managed to switch my clothes with one of them and walked out the store with a new outfit. There was also that time during Christmas when I managed to recreate a nativity scene. Abigail. Thank you for that. For dressing up like Mother Mary.
They are coming for me. Don't be afraid when they come after you. Never be afraid, Abigail.
Prompt: Department store dummies have come alive! What happens next?
Dear Abigail,
I am writing you from the children's dressing room at Macy's. There isn't much time. I want to take this time to let you know that I've loved you. From the moment I wake up and I put on my make-up, I say a little prayer for you. Dammit, sorry. That song suddenly came on over the speakers.
By the time you've received this letter (if you receive it), I may be long gone. They probably want me first. From that time I placed one guy's hand on the other's butt. Or the time I managed to switch my clothes with one of them and walked out the store with a new outfit. There was also that time during Christmas when I managed to recreate a nativity scene. Abigail. Thank you for that. For dressing up like Mother Mary.
They are coming for me. Don't be afraid when they come after you. Never be afraid, Abigail.
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