Daily Writing Prompts (Updated 6/14/16) «12...Next Go

lovesstorms

Hello! As writers, we love weaving a new tale. However, sometimes we struggle to find inspiration or even the desire to write. I know I do. However, if we don't feel like writing our story, or thinking about what details have to match and flow, or even editing, we could write on the side a little blurb to get our brains going. It's possible that's all we'll want to do. Or it's possible it'll bring that writing desire back or even give us inspiration for a whole new story.

So, every day, I'll come on and give a new daily writing prompt. It could be a beginning one-liner sentence that everyone must use. Or it could be a prompt detailing a specific character, a place, and/or a small story line. Or it could even be just a photo (maybe sim-related, maybe not). I plan on having quite a list of ideas, so it won't be hard to get online and easily do this on a daily basis. Each prompt will be a specific set time--usually 10 minutes--or perhaps a word limit (probably not more than 500 words).

You could do it in the morning when you first wake up to get your brain moving. Or do it at night (like me) when you're ready to finally sit down. Please feel free to share yours or keep it to yourself. I plan on sharing unless I don't have time that day. If you have ideas of prompts you'd like to see, please feel free to share them either via this thread or PM me. I could use it in an upcoming daily prompt.

I'll keep the post below updated on each current day's prompt. Then, the post below that will be the previous prompts, in case you want to go back and do a different one. Honestly, this is as much to keep me motivated to write, even on days I don't want to or I'm being super lazy. Having this thread and needing to update it, will help keep me accountable.

So, I hope you all join me on this "prompt" (bad pun?) journey and have fun with it. Happy Writing and Sim On!

lovesstorms

Current Prompt

It's time for another picture. Write any stories that come to mind when you see this image.



Time: 10 min

lovesstorms

Previous Prompts

2/29/16 - The icy rain clattered on the window like an endless chorus line of rhythm-challenged tap dancers. - First Line/10 min
3/1 - "I knew I had to find it before..." (please switch out "he" or "she" or "they" if you don't want to do "I") - (March's Short Story prompt) - First Line/10 min
3/2 - Write about why it's so important to read and include any real life testimonies or stories, if you'd like. - Dr Seuss Day - 10 min
3/3 - Today's prompt is a picture. You have freedom to write whatever you want in regards to this picture. Any stories that pop to mind or perhaps a description of the plane itself. Anything and everything goes. - 10 min

3/4 - Title of the Story: The Last Violin - Write anything that leads your story to have the title above. - 10 min
3/5 - Use all of the following words in your ten minutes today: dance, deceive, lavish, attic, help, scrawny, club, and abuse - 10 min
3/6 - Use any of the previous prompts and either do one of them again or do one you haven't done - 10 min
3/7 -"Why did you scream like that?" - First line/10 min
3/8 - Think about your favorite animal. Write a day in their life from their perspective. - 10 min
3/9 - Your on an airplane. (This can be at any point during the flight as long as you are inside the plane.) Use all of your senses and describe the experience. Remember to include all five: sight, touch, smell, taste, hearing. If you've never been on an airplane before, then describe what you think it might be like. Use any point of view you wish. - 10-15 min
3/10 - He knew he must keep very still while he waited... - 10 min
3/11 - Use any of the previous prompts and either do one of them again or do one you haven't done - First line/10 min
3/12 - Write a brief scene that incorporates the following: an orange traffic cone, a cat, fried fish, velcro, Teddy Roosevelt, polka dots - 10-20 min
3/13 - Another picture for a prompt: - 10 min

3/14 - Title of the Story: The Imaginary Holiday - 10 min
3/15 - Pick an object in the room you're in. Look at it for a minute taking in patterns, color, details, etc. Now, turn away from it and describe it on paper. When you're done, compare your description to it. Take note of any small details you may have missed. Were there details you missed? Perhaps the cat hair on the side or a crack or tear? So many details are in real life that we miss when we write. - 10 min (writing time)
3/16 - Use this line of dialogue somewhere in your story: "Well, at least, I don't have to worry about feeding and caring for a unicorn anymore." - 10 min
3/17 - Scenario: It's the night before your wedding and you finally admit to yourself that you don't love the person you are to marry. Write what happens next. - 10 min
4/26 - Get out your favorite pen, pencils, or even colored markers and write using them! No computer, typewriter (ha!), or electronic device. - 10 min
6/2 - "His solution to the problem of having two children to care for was to find another woman to do the job." - 10 min

lovesstorms

And, just in case...

lovesstorms

Mine from yesterday's prompt.

The icy rain clattered on the window like an endless chorus line of rhythm-challenged tap dancers. Ramona huddled under her blanket as she read her book. With one hand out of the blanket, she flipped to the next page. The new Perry Mystery novel was getting good and she couldn’t stop reading it. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed the time of seven. Her stomach growled.

“Ugh,” she said reluctantly closing the book. “I guess I’d better find something to eat before I get back to the next chapter.” She unraveled herself from the blanket and shoved her feet in the slippers lying by the chair. Shuffling out to the kitchen, she turned on the light near the entrance and blinked at the brightness.

She grabbed the ingredients to make a quick sandwich and poured herself a glass of milk. She went back into the living room and grabbed the tv tray putting the plate and cup on it. As she wrapped herself in the blanket again, the doorbell rang.

“Who would be out on a night like this?”

She grabbed her phone to check for messages, but didn’t see any. She figured it was her brother, Alex, who always came over right when a book was getting good. She flung the door open in annoyance and started to yell when she saw someone she never expected.

“Mom?”

“Hi, darling. Can I come in? I’m sure you won’t mind,” she said pushing past me. Ramona rolled her eyes knowing full well her mother knew she wasn’t welcome.

“Mom, I don’t want you in my house. You know that. What do you want?”

“What? Why not? How could you say that to your mother? I worked my tail off providing for you and Alex while your father ran off with his secretary. I worked three—”

“Jobs. Yeah, yeah. I know. You’ve told me a thousand times. Please make the guilt trip worse by repeating yourself multiple times again,” Ramona said sighing. “Look, Mom. I do love you, but I don’t have to deal with you hanging your guilt over me anymore. If you want to dish it out, then please find someone who will bow to your every whim. I’m done.” Ramona stood by the door standing off to the side. She brought her arm forward as a welcoming gesture for her mother to leave. “When you are ready to talk to me, Mom, without heaping guilt on me, then we’ll talk. In the meantime, I have a really good book to get back to.”

Her mom’s blonde hair jiggled as she huffed and rolled her eyes, but she obeyed. “In my day, if I had talked that way to my mother, I’d have got a whooping with a belt.”

Ramona rolled her eyes again, but stood her ground. She smiled as her mother walked back outside into the weather. After locking up, she sat down again curled up in her blanket while she enjoyed her dinner and the mystery unfolding inside.

lovesstorms

Here's mine from today.

I knew I had to find it before the dog found it. Chocolate always found its way into that beast’s mouth. Last time I’d seen it was on the floor in my room, so I raced up there. When I opened my bedroom door, the dog wasn’t there, but neither was my chocolate bar.

I thought again to where I’d seen it last. I hadn’t meant to leave it on the floor, but sometimes I sat there working on my homework. When Mom had called me down, I had left everything spread out. Maybe my sister had taken it. Trina thought she owned the house and walked in whenever she wanted.

I ran to her room. I knocked, but no answer came from within. I gently pushed the door and peeked around the edge. The coast was clear. I walked in quietly, my eyes touching every surface. No chocolate.

I ran to my parent’s room. My mom kept that place spotless so it wasn’t difficult to see it wasn’t there.

“Where could it be?” I asked out loud. “Maybe I took it downstairs earlier and didn’t realize.”

I walked into the kitchen where my mom stood over the stove stirring the pot of spaghetti sauce.

“There it is,” I said.

“There what is?” my mom said turning towards me while continuing to stir.

“Oh, nothing.” I quickly shoved the chocolate bar in my pocket and slowly walked out of the room.

“Stop. Turn. What are you hiding?”

“Uuuhhhh—nothing, Mom. I just found the homework I’d been working on.”

She raised her eye brows and held out her hand.

Reluctantly I pulled out the bar and gave it to her.

“Young man, you are not allowed to have chocolate before dinner.”

“But, I wasn’t going to eat it. I promise! I just wanted to find it before Butch found it. You know how deadly it is, but how much he loves hunting for food.”

She nodded, but kept the chocolate. I never saw it again. I’m sure she ate it. She was as much of a chocoholic as I was. That’s part of the reason I always hid it in odd places in my room—to keep her from stealing it. Of course, I always stole it from her first. It was like a game we liked to play.

CathyTea

This is cool! I'll pop over and participate when I've got the time and energy. And space! Don't forget space!

pronterus

Might give this a try later to help exercise my writing skill

pronterus

Awesome writing prompt. Here's what I came up with, related to the story I'm writing currently:

---

I knew I had to find it before Westfall found out. The Newcrest Vampire Hunters’ Guild Chapter has gone rogue recently, and I had to get to the bottom of it. As the High Pastor of Fartherburg and head of the Vampire Hunters’ Guild in the state, I cannot let this man who was excommunicated recently do more harm.

Getting past security into former Pastor Westfall’s mansion was easy, but I had to speak with this man myself. Sending him the letter of excommunication was not enough, so I had to make it more formal. Two of my best hunters followed me from behind as we went down the opulent hallway decorated with mirrors, statues of llamas, and lavender plants in gilded flower boxes.

A man dressed like a plumber leads us to the next part of the large mansion. I heard that this branch created a plumbing business to help fund their activities, but I didn’t know that they used it for an unauthorized vampire hunting raid. The invasion of a vampire hideout in Northern Newcrest caused a lot of unwanted deaths and attention in the local papers. Very unbecoming conduct for vampire hunters.

We finally reach Westfall’s office. As we enter the lavish study, we were greeted by the strong scent of lavender perfume, and in the middle of the room is a heavy wooden desk with Westfall sitting in his office chair upholstered with what looks like expensive fabric.

“High Pastor Ramirez. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Westfall was still dressed in his church service attire, which sent me frowning.

“Former Pastor Westfall. You have a few minutes to redeem yourself.” I say coldly.

“No need to explain, High Pastor.” He gets up from his seat and approaches me with a grin. “Llama willing, I’m just doing what us vampire hunters do.”

“And you’re giving us a bad name. How dare you invoke the Llama’s name in vain! You’ve sent young men and women to their deaths.”

“I was just testing the medallion out.”

“What?”

“Let me show you.”

The medallion around Westfall’s neck gave off a dark, eerie glow as I hear screaming behind me. My two hunters were swiftly killed by Westfall’s men. Before I could even react, a large plumber comes up from behind and locks both of my arms with his own and with inhuman strength.

I turn to Westfall who had the glowing medallion in his fist. “Monster! You have corrupted the medallion of its original purpose!”

The former pastor just laughs at me as I see a red glow in his right eye. Another plumber comes up to where I was trapped with a heavy silver pipe wrench.

Everything blacked out after that.

lovesstorms

CathyTea wrote: »

This is cool! I'll pop over and participate when I've got the time and energy. And space! Don't forget space!

Yes! That's why I wait until it's dark outside, children are snoring softly in their bed, and I have that special time to myself.

@pronterus - oooh! Awesome job!! I'm glad you came to join us. It looks like it got the juices flowing for sure.

Also, new prompt for today.

MedleyMisty

Reading builds empathy. You step into the thoughts and feelings of characters who aren't like you, and you experience reality through their perception of it. That carries over into real life. There are studies showing that people who read good quality fiction are better at empathizing with others than people who don't read.

Reading expands vocabulary and knowledge. The better your vocabulary, the more you can read, and the more you can learn. Reading widely helps you understand the world you were born into and helps you contribute to that world.

I read every book the local library had about the Holocaust when I was nine. It made a lasting impression on me. Actually, in a lot of ways it formed my personality. I've kept reading about WWII, the Holocaust, and Germany in the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, for over 20 years now. As a result I can see some of those same patterns beginning to gather again, while people who are proudly ignorant of history can't see the cliff they're heading towards.

Reading other people's thoughts helps me find ways to deal with being able to see the cliff but not being able to stop the hurtling towards it. I know I'm not alone, and I know that other people struggle with it too, and their words provide a model for me.

Writing is how we pass on the knowledge gained by the species over thousands of years. Reading is how we absorb that knowledge, so we can apply it. The less people read, the less they know of history and of other people and of science and philosophy and thousands of years of shared ideas and experiences and insight, the more we are stumbling in the dark, unconscious of the misery and pain we are inflicting on others now and storing up for ourselves in the future.

Reading is what will save the species, if anything can.

Jes2G

I want to do yesterday’s one as it reminded me of something I wrote about once. This isn’t what I wrote, fyi lol. Here we go!


I knew I had to find it before mom did. I tore through my room like a tornado through a trailer park trying to find it. I knew I placed it in the trash. Left it right on top like an idiot. I was still replaying the scene when he gave it to me when it threw it away. (sigh) Oh gosh. Day dreaming was how I got myself into this situation in the first place! I had to find it.

“Looking for this,” mom said as she suddenly appeared in my doorway.

I was frozen with my jaw open. She stood there with a blue rectangular box in her hand; the same rectangular box I was looking for! I was dead meat. I knew I was. I slowly straightened up and closed my mouth. I knew I should have probably said something, but what could I say? I was caught, and she was going to eat me alive.

Mom stepped completely into the room and closed the door behind her. There was a lump the size of a grapefruit in my throat that I kept trying to swallow. She took a step toward me and shook the box in front of my face.

“I was in here dusting… I saw you had a brand new necklace. A heart locket? Who is this boy?”

I hesitated to tell her. What could I say? We weren’t dating or anything. We were just friends…who just happen to like each other.



Ten minutes up!

pronterus

lovesstorms wrote: »

Write about why it's so important to read and include any real life testimonies or stories, if you'd like.

Reading is very important because it makes you smart. I live in a country where it is rare to see someone reading in public. It might even raise an eyebrow if you're not reading in a cafe. It is a place where reading is only seen as a tedious thing required for education and not as something you do in your spare time. One good thing, however, is that there are shops that import old books from overseas to be sold here at dirt cheap prices, so it made more people afford them. Imagine buying a 20USD magazine at 90% off.

Poverty is rampant here, so the average poor family will spend their money more on food than on books, which is understandable. Nevertheless, I've seen poor children who love to read books, even though they are extremely rare in an environment influenced by trashy mass media, and they are usually the brightest and broad-minded individuals in their community. Hence, reading gives hope.

Reading also helps expand your understanding of the world, and reading a lot of things helped me look at people from different perspectives. I think that reading helps people evolve for the better.

kayt45

This is a great idea! I'd love to participate. Speaking of Dr Seuss, my daughter went to see Seussical yesterday.

CathyTea

Here's my reading prompt response, unedited and uncensored! I liked this one!

Write about why it's so important to read and include any real life testimonies or stories, if you'd like.

Those little lines on the page, they have meaning. When I realized that, I felt something in my mind go "snap". Not a bad snap, but a snap-in-place.

I loved the word "And." Especially with a capital A. Sometimes, I wrote in capital letters. An N is a lot like an A, if you take that line at the end that goes up, turn it sideways, and put it in the middle of the mountain.

Why isn't A used to write Mountain? It's because we have mountain ranges, around here, so we need two peaks: M.

After I found the word "and" about a hundred and one times, in all sorts of books, I wrote it: "And suddenly."

That's how the story began: right smack in the middle, as the mountain lion was about to pounce on the red pony. I knew about the red pony because my mom had the book "The Red Pony" on the dining room table, next to the box of grape nuts that didn't taste anything like grapes or nuts, but looked a lot like dogfood.

Mom said, "Oh, that book is written for grown ups," when I asked her what it was about and if I could read it. "You wouldn't understand."

I thought that there was a language that books for grown ups was written in--kids didn't yet know it. So I stuck to picture books and chapter books until I figured I was grown up enough to understand this grown up language. Funny: it was the same language I'd read as a kid.

Reading helped me survive. I think that if I hadn't grown up with John Muir, building my little house inside the redwood tree with him, spending my long summers herding sheep in the alpine meadows and playing tunes on elder-branch flutes, riding down the mountain on avalanches, and climbing the tallest pines during the fiercest storms--if I hadn't done that right alongside of him during my childhood years, I am not sure I would have made it through childhood.

But of course, I would have! For there was also Louisa May Alcott and Thoreau and Emerson. There was Walt Whitman and Mark Twain. There was Robert Louise Stevensen and Rudyard Kipling! Of course, there were all the Greek Myths! Of course I would have grown up and survived and become the person that I am now!

But isn't that what reading is about? When we find something that reaches so deeply inside of us, we realize: we cannot do without it. And maybe it is this need that pulls those words into being through these writers whom we love, these writes who become the very best friends of all the lonely readers.

lovesstorms

I'm so glad you are all enjoying this. I couldn't get to the prompt yesterday because of RL, but I do want to do it at some point. That's the beauty of this is I can go back.

Today's prompt is up. Have a lovely day!

lovesstorms

Ana Donati looked out the plane window at the land below. She'd been flying for a few hours on her way to California where her aunt lived. She sighed thinking about what she had to do to get this seat. She'd always hated sitting on the aisle because people always bumped into her. Her large figure didn't fit into these tiny seats well. Perhaps she could have paid more for first class, but it wasn't worth it for just a few hours. Now, if she'd have been on her way to her dream vacation spot in Italy, she'd have paid for it in a heartbeat since she'd have saved for it. But instead, she'd finagled a window seat out of the businessman sitting next to her now, snoring. She had that Donati charm, but not the figure.

She rested her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. She heard the speaker and looked out the window realizing she'd fallen asleep. The pilot said they were on the final descent and we needed to buckle up. After they landed, she found her bags, got a taxi, and drove to her Aunt Edna's house.

Upon arrival, there were several police cars out front. She paid the cabbie and got out. She had no way of knowing whether the police were for her or another member of the apartment building. She made her way to the entrance where an officer stopped her.

"Sir, I'm meeting my aunt inside. I'm staying here for a week to visit her."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. No one goes in or out."

"But I need to meet my aunt. She's expecting me. What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, but you can't go in there."

"Fine. Where's the officer in charge?"

He pointed to a man with an overcoat and hat standing near a police car. She walked over and said, "Sir, I'm supposed to meet my aunt and I'll be staying with her for a week. She's waiting on me."

"I'm sorry, you can't go in there."

She began to get annoyed. "Ok, fine. What am I supposed to do then?"

He rolled his eyes and said, "I don't know. What's your aunt's name?"

"Edna. Edna Donati."

His head jerked up at me. "What?"

Well, that's 10 minutes. lol I liked this prompt. It was fun!

pronterus

We're finally going to Bohol Island.

Getting past airport procedures was a pain, and I had to pay a 200 peso terminal fee just to use it. It was not worth the faulty air-conditioning and uncomfortable seating. The airline that I picked is a budget airline, so I'm not expecting much, but after one hour of being seated uncomfortably, I can finally see lush tropical forests and wonderful beaches. A stark contrast from the polluted capital city that slowly kills you every time you inhale its air.

After watching a poorly-edited safety video and being served some water and biscuits, I look outside the window. I've been on many flights before, but I've been thinking a lot about what will happen lately. Maybe I'm just nervous. Or maybe it's the medical convention I've been invited to. It's my first time to be invited to give a presentation about something in a foreign country, and I haven't always been good with telling things to a large audience, even if they are all doctors like me.

I look around the cabin while seated and hear a baby crying while the mother tries to comfort it, and the stewardess speaks to another passenger in her native language with a calming tone. The woman next to me is shaking with fear. It's probably her first time on a plane. The plane goes into a little turbulence as she yelps a bit. I calm down the woman and she smiles back nervously.

And then the pilot announces something shocking.

We've been hijacked by the group of religious extremists that I've heard so much about in the news.

So much for my island paradise adventure.

----

Time's up! That was fun

CathyTea

My dad won't be there when I get off the plane. Every other time, it's been him and my mom standing there to greet me. Today, it will be no one. I told Mom not to come. I'm renting a car and driving to her place. I can't bear the sight of her standing there without him.

The world is so far away.

It didn't feel far away the other times--I always felt then that I was flying closer, closer to what mattered, closer to what anchored me, closer to home.

I'm not sure I have home any more.

"Thanks, coffee, please," I tell the steward. The man next to me orders green tea.

"Are you going home?" he asks.

"Not really," I say, "but to where I used to live. How about you?"

He is going home. His wife will be there to meet him, he said. He's coming back from visiting his parents.

"My dad's dying, actually," he says. And as I look at his face, I can see the weight of grief settling already in the shadows of his cheekbones.

The angel of death isn't a metaphor--I saw him circling over my parents' house those last weeks. I see it blocking the light around this man now.

We settle into the familiarity that mourners know. I tell him of my dad's last words to me. He tells me about walking to the garden with his father. "You'll need to prune this tree in the spring," his dad told him. "The branch'll break otherwise. The tulips should be up in March. You might need to divide them in October. I never did mend that fence."

"I'll do it, Dad," the man assured him.

He tells me now, "I guess I'm going back in the spring, and in the fall, too. There's so much to do."

I look out the window. Far below, in the shadow of the plane on the sea, I see myself before dad's death, flying north. Beside me is this man. We are both laughing, talking of films we saw, books we read. This is us before we have been touched with the mourner's walk. Do you think something of that innocence lasts?

"What's that?" the man asks me, and I realize that I had spoken that question out loud.

lovesstorms

Excellent, @CathyTea & @pronterus. You all did marvelously! I'm really beginning to get into these prompts.

CathyTea

lovesstorms wrote: »

Excellent, @CathyTea & @pronterus. You all did marvelously! I'm really beginning to get into these prompts.

I love yours, too, lovestorms! It's so much fun to just blast out a ten-minute write! I forgot how much I love this!

lovesstorms

Daily Writing Prompt is updated. I'm really looking forward to doing it later. Hope it helps inspire you!

lovesstorms

Sorry about not getting the prompt up sooner. It's Saturday and kids games (and I forgot...oops ) Anyway, hope you enjoy!!

Current Prompt

Use all of the following words in your ten minutes today:

dance
deceive
lavish
attic
help
scrawny
club
abuse

Time: 10 min

lovesstorms

None today because I forgot again. Mostly because it's the weekend and my attention is never on me.

So pick your favorite one we had during the week or maybe one you didn't get a chance to do and do it. I plan on doing a few myself later as I haven't had time.

Happy writing!!

lovesstorms

I'm posting mine now because I don't think I'll have time when I wake up.

Current Prompt

A first line prompt again:

"Why did you scream like that?"

Time: 10 min

Happy writing!

CathyTea

I'm a few days behind, and today, I've just got six minutes! Here's a six-minute, three-day late writing:

The Last Violin

The last violin I dated has all the right curves in all the right places. You should see her scroll work. Her ribs are maple and the color of honey. Her lining is spruce, and her tailpiece, oh! Her tailpiece is ebony.

But that's not the half of it.

To really get her, you need to hear her voice. It fit with mine so perfectly--when she sang, my body resonated, and when I sang beneath her soprano, we felt the walls vibrate.

I blame the viola. We had a perfectly fine duo for nearly a year--we went to all the finest halls together. But she began to complain of "lack of repertoire." What does she know? And then the viola had to insert himself between my voice and hers, and soon, it was "There is no room for your case in the subway car!" and "They only need two."

I'm seeing a piano now. She is very supportive--and her voice is in the finest range. I like her soundboard.

But it's not the same. We have plenty of repertoire, but whenever I hear my G against her middle C, I feel somehow, incomplete.

I think I will go it alone for a while. You don't need a violin to sing Bach's suites for solo cello.