Write about your first job, or a job you had as a teenager.
Your favorite time of day. Write about the time of day you like best.
Ready to explore? Today’s writing prompt invites you to look at your old stories in new ways. Perhaps you can rewrite your story. Excerpt from October 2016 Reader’s Digest, “Down Off The Cross,” by Debra Jarvis, a chaplain and cancer survivor. “Let’s say I meet you on a bus. We really hit it off, but I’ve got to exit soon, so you’re going to tell me three things about yourself that help me understand who you are, that get at your essence.” Note from Marlene: Prompt: List three things that define you. Back to the article: “Of those three things, is one of them surviving some kind of trauma, like being a cancer survivor, a war survivor, or an abuse survivor?” Note from Marlene: Or perhaps you are currently experiencing a difficulty or a trauma. Back to the article: “Many of us tend to identify ourselves by our wounds. Claim…
Write about a time you had no worries . . . a play-filled time . . . a time you felt free to be you. Does this scene look familiar? You know where it’s from if you’ve been to Maria’s Out West Garage in Petaluma, California. Hi, Maria. 🙂
Today’s writing prompt: Wrong Number.
If you could invent something to make your life easier, what would it be?
What are you obsessed with? Write about your obsessions. Photo by Christina Gleason
Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter. In-between seasons. Write about your favorite time of year.
“You think you know them, these creatures robed in your parent’s skins.” Writing Prompt: Read the excerpt. Copy it in your notebook, if you want. Then see what comes up for you and Just Write! Excerpt from the poem, At the Lake House by Jon Loomis
Today’s writing prompt is a poem by Alison Luterman. When the prompt is a poem, you can write on the theme or the mood of the poem. Or use a stanza, a line, or a word to inspire your writing. Just Write! At the Ice Rink I came here to fail and to fall but not so well as that man careening over the ice sliding into the wall as if into second base shambling up, grinning, like a great bear, and taking off again, saying, over his shoulder, “You’ve got it backwards. Learn to fall first, then skate.” I end up clinging barnacle-like to the sides, inching around the perimeter like a caterpillar. Wall-hugger. Nothing has changed since I was eight and my parents paid for skating lessons in hopes I would become more balanced. Now as then I am wobbling, terrified, feet frozen like blocks of wood…