Category: Writing Prompts

Good day, my fellow writers! It’s Friday once again. You know, in October we’ll be having a Friday the 13th. I don’t know why people fear that day (I know historically why but it’s just a silly superstition to me). Still, I love the name for the irrational fear of Friday the 13th: triskaidekaphobia. Quite the mouthful, isn’t it?

Speaking of fear, today’s writing prompt deals with exactly that: our fears. We all have our unique fears, from things which only send a shiver down our spines to phobias which render us catatonic. Take a look at the Wikipedia list of phobias; there’s a clinical term for the fear of almost everything. I’m personally arachnophobic (very afraid of spiders), ophidiophobic (very afraid of snakes), and somewhat sociophobic. (I’m nowhere near the worst when it comes to any of these but my fears are definitely not within the normal range.)

With all of these phobias, fear seems to be a rich vein of writing material. After all, most readers love a good thriller or Gothic horror story; that’s why Poe sold out in the first place. This prompt will encourage you to mine this vein and go deep into your own psyche.

I’ve done a fear-based prompt with “A Box-Shaped Mystery” before. However, this time I want you dig deeper down beyond the superficial definition of your fear and your reaction to it; I want you look for the source of this phobia.

First, write down your worst fear. I’m not talking about any mild fear you have. What would render you beyond words and actions if you encountered it? Try and make it as close to a phobia as you get, something you know is irrational but you’re afraid of it anyway. Then take a few minutes and meditate on your fear. How do you react when you encounter it? Why do you react that way? Is there something from your past which could explain your fear, or do you not have a clue as to why you’re so scared of it? Spend about five to ten minutes jotting down answers to these questions and then walk away for a few minutes.

When you come back from your short break, look over your notes. Now, use your notes and your continued reaction to the thought of your fear to write a scene, short story, poem, short personal essay, whatever. Really dive into your emotions, tap into that fear and let it flow out of your pen/pencil/finger tips as they hit the keys. Don’t worry about any stylistic aspects or even character/plot/setting development; allow your stream of consciousness to flow onto your paper or monitor.

I know that this prompt may be difficult for people. I have a hard time tapping into things like my fears, and I imagine that others will have a hard time as well. Exploring the source of it will be even more difficult. Nevertheless, such exploration will both help us grow as people and allow us to access a new level of emotional connection in our work.

What did you discover in this exercise, either about your writing or yourself? Did you gain any insight from this prompt that you didn’t get from “A Box-Shaped Mystery”? Write anything worth sharing? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

 

Hello writers! Join me in ushering in a long-awaited Friday and an even more welcomed weekend. For my American readers, it’s Labor Day weekend, another long weekend which normally calls for celebration. Instead of all the drinking and salutes to the last days of summer, might I suggest a writing prompt? Today’s prompt involves visual stimulation and a famous painting.

Yesterday I gave you my thoughts on the tightly-knit nature of writing and other forms of art. Now I want to put that relationship into action. In particular, I want to focus on writing and painting.

One of the oldest tricks in the book, as far as jump-starting one’s writing goes, is to immerse oneself in art. Usually this includes visiting a museum or something of the like. For this prompt, you only need access to your favorite painting (the Internet is a wonderful thing).

Find an image of your favorite painting. Meditate on it for about five minutes; write notes, jot down whatever thoughts come to mind. Don’t put too much conscious thought into it. Just let the painting wash over you.

After five minutes, take a short break. Five minutes, ten, whatever you want or need, so long as you remember to come back to your notes. When you come back, get the image of the painting out of your sight and focus on your notes. Using your notes as a springboard, write a scene, short story, or poem inspired by the painting.

I haven’t done this exercise in this exact form but I have written pieces based on other art forms, from a painting to a statue and even an old photograph. Here’s one from about six years ago, based on Van Gogh’s The Starry Night:

SWEET DREAMS

Each inch of sight,

a smooth stroke

painted by gentle angels,

or perhaps a mad man

with perfectionist behaviors

and a steady hand;

All blues and greens

and blacks and browns

and muted yellows;

No screaming kids

or barking dogs

or yelling teens

or roaring motorcycles,

Just silence,

not even a whisper of wind;

Neither hot

nor cold,

Perfectly warm

and perfectly cool.

If only I could remain asleep.

As I’ve said before, I’m no poet. Nevertheless, you can see the sort of work that can come from an exercise like this.

Don’t take this prompt too seriously. Just have fun with it. That’s why these are called “Friday Fun-Day” writing prompts, after all.

What did you get from this exercise? Care to share your piece or an excerpt? Share your work and experiences in the comments below.

 

Joyous day, everyone! The weekend is here! I’m working double-time right now but don’t worry, that means you’ll be learning about a lot of new books soon. In the mean time, I wanted to give you a writing prompt to remind everyone that writers are young at heart.

You remember when you were a kid and could devour a book every day? (OK, some of us still do, but back then you weren’t hindered by bills and other responsibilities.) The pure amazement and glee you felt as you read? It’s time to tap into that wonder again.

One of the reasons writers are so good at writing is that we are young at heart. We approach each book and story with that same sense of amazement and glee that we felt as children. Sure, our reading tastes have matured and branched out and our view of the world at large may now be more pessimistic, but we’ve never lost the reading magic.

For today’s writing prompt, I want you to write the sort of story or poem you would’ve read as a kid. Think Curious George, Horton Hears a Who, Winnie the Pooh, whatever you read when you were four to seven years old. Try not to think too hard about it; just find that concept that would’ve excited younger you and roll with it. Write no more than ten pages for a story or two pages for a poem. Feel free to draw your own illustrations, no matter how crude they might be.

If you really want to put your writing to the test, grab a kid you know–preferably a family member or friend’s child whom you’re close to–and have them read your work (or read it to them). How does he/she react? No one can help spark a fire under the young at heart than a child they love.

What were your experiences with this exercise? Want to share what you wrote? Have a writing exercise you think we should try? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

Happy Friday, and happy writing!

 

Happy Friday, readers and writers. It’s been quite a busy time for me. I’m scrambling to buy the books I need for my Master’s program, I’m getting more orders on Fiverr, and, of course, I’m trying to make time for my own writing. That’s the way I like it. When I have nothing to do for too long, the little demons of my mind set in. The circumstances have, however, made me think about decisions and untraveled paths a lot recently. That’s why today’s writing prompt is based on Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”.

I’m sure that most of you know “The Road Not Taken”. For those who don’t, here’s a link to the Wikipedia entry on the poem. Robert Frost is one of my favorite poets. While I prefer “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, “The Road Not Taken” is also wonderful.

As usual, the prompt is simple. Imagine the main character of your current work in progress walking home. On the way home, they always come to a fork in the road. One path leads directly to their home and is well-worn by your character’s continued use of the road. The other remains foreign to your character. They have never been down this other road before, don’t even know what lies beyond it, but today they decide to take the road less traveled.

Spend five minutes in a free-write about their experience taking the road not taken. How do they feel about the change? What awaits them on the path? What do they think they will encounter on the new path home?

After this free-write, walk away for a few minutes. Make a pot of tea, walk the dog, whatever. Just walk away from it and don’t think about your notes for a little while. Then return to your notes and write a scene, short story, poem, whatever you like based on the free-write.

Deciding to travel on “The Road Not Taken” can be a hard task in real life. The journey can reveal people’s strengths, weaknesses, insecurities, and desires. Forcing your character to do something outside of their normal routine can do the same thing. You may even learn something about the character that you didn’t know before. After all, Robert Frost once said that if there’s no surprise in the writer, there will be no surprise in the reader.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

What do you think of this exercise? Have you written anything you would like to share? Ideas for future writing prompts? Feel free to drop a line in the comments or e-mail me at thewritersscrapbin@gmail.com.

 

TGIF, readers and writers! Today I’m going to borrow a writing exercise from the virtual summer school I attended for my Master’s program last year. In this exercise, you will be writing a short prose piece or poem about an object that you “have to hand” (the tutors’ words, not mine). Think pencil, ladle, orange, etc.

Spend ten minutes meditating on the object and jot down notes regarding your observations. Don’t just look at the object; engage all of your senses with it. This exercise is meant to help you learn description and imagery beyond what you see. What does the object feel like? Sound like? Smell like? Of course you should observe what it looks like as well but don’t limit yourself to that. What sort of feelings do you associate with the object, both through your senses and through your emotions?

After those initial ten minutes, set everything aside and walk away for a while. Do anything you like so long as you get your mind off the exercise for a short time.

When you come back, read over your notes. Choose whichever images and phrases from your notes you think are the strongest–the most vivid, the least cliché, and so on–and string those images and phrases together to create a short piece of prose or a poem about that object.

Here’s the piece I came up with when we did this exercise for the virtual summer school:

“Pen”

Look at this highly-decorated usurper. See how it boasts its silver engravings—tributes to its maker—like a Squid boasts his tats after a drawn-out deployment. And French—a tramp stamp to boot! That peacock! Pimped out in blue from splashes of orphan to slit-views of the Mariana Trench. Who is this kid to take the place of such worthy predecessors: the thespian quill, the proletarian pencil?

Beware the silver finger trap, more apt for clipping to your skin than your pocket. Resist, if you can, the temptation to fidget with the top (an addiction I fight quite hard). Feel the power of the button shove the needle out from this imposter, an I.V. that drips its blue blood at your command: c-click c-click, l-life d-death. But not too often. One click too many, you’re stuck for life.

Look! What’s this? The finger trap is loose! The needle refuses your command to retreat; the button won’t budge to your fidget. The dandy’s collapse has begun with the multi-gig generation looming. Yet like a car limping through its last few miles, jerry-rigged repairs will pull the blue soldier through for another day.

More than anything, remember to have fun with this. This exercise is only to loosen you up and strengthen your observation skills; it’s not like you’re looking to win the Nobel Prize in Literature over a poem about a pen.

What was your experience with this exercise? Have any thoughts? Did you write anything you’d like to share? Drop a line in the comments, on our Facebook page, or join our Facebook group to talk with other writers.