Writing Prompts
I put off writing the newsletter this morning because I wasn't sure what to write about. Every other day this week I've had a specific, concrete topic in mind when I sat down. But it's gray out today and I'm feeling kind of blah. I'm not feeling badly, it's definitely more of a neutral-blah than a bad-blah, but I think it's a mood that has the potential to tip over into feeling badly if I dwell on it too much. And staring at a computer screen trying to figure out what to write about usually results in some dwelling.
To avoid that, I pulled my book of writing prompts off the shelf and started flipping through it. I can't remember the last time I looked through "642 Things to Write About," but it's what it says on the tin: a notebook of 642 prompts with space to answer them. I have probably completed fewer than 30 of these prompts, but I can find my handwriting (and occasionally E's!) dispersed throughout the book. I very helpfully dated my entries so I know I did most of them between 2014 and 2016, and reading through them now feels a bit like reading an old diary.
So, for today's newsletter, let's read my diary together.
September 22nd, 2014 - Prompt: "A houseplant is dying. Tell it why it needs to live."
She's going to come home from work today - exhausted, angry - and see you wilting in the corner and she'll be overcome with sorrow and then buoyed by tenderness. She'll water you and find you a sunnier spot in her apartment. She's going to whisper to you, "don't die on me. We're going to get through this rough patch," and though her words won't mean much, you'll appreciate the carbon dioxide. And when you perk up in a few days, she will too. Next month she'll buy a basil plant to keep you company. She loves you.
May 17th, 2016 - Prompt: "Put two people who hate each other in an elevator for 12 hours. What happens?"
If you've ever read fanfic before, then you know they end up making out.
July 13th, 2015 - Prompt: "What would you be doing if you weren't doing this?"
Traveling.
July 13th, 2015 - Prompt: "The people who live in your house after you move out"
The people who live in your house after you move out don't take care of it as well as you did or as well as you wish they would. They cut down the pine trees that kept your front door hidden from the road. When you drive by the house you moved out of you witness more of the lives being lived there then you want to, but you don't change your route. You keep driving by and see they've let the deer eat your hostas. They hang an ugly, season-specific flag on their front door. They put an above ground swimming pool in the backyard. They have children and you wonder if they chose the same wall you did to chart the family's growth. You hope they don't find the spot you chose so your lines and dates, your children's shaky handwriting growing more confident can stay. So a corner of the house can stay yours.
November 5th, 2014 - Prompt: "What is the place or object from your childhood that you most think about when you think about home?"
The first thing that came to mind was the fireplace in The Great Room - high ceilings and large mismatched stones climbing to the top, that beige pillow, and the way my Mom decorated the mantle for Christmas. But I love how these prompts so quickly elicit more memories. The climbing tree shaking with the weight of all the kids in the neighborhood. The pumpkins my dad carved lining our driveway. That huge piece of brain coral - no idea where it ended up. Big band music on the stereo. The turn table in the basement. The library. The World Books 1999?
April 27th, 2016 - Prompt: "The secret that, if revealed, would upset everything"
The truth was - and, of course, truth is subjective and she hadn't come to it lightly - but her truth was she was unhappy. She didn't want to be a wife and a mother - wait, swap those; ever since she'd had children it was mother, always mother first. Not in her mind, but in so many others. She didn't want to be a mother and wife. Well, she didn't want to not be those things, but she wanted to be other things too. Revealing this would upset everything. Not "upset" like "ruin," but rather change. This revelation, like all good revelations, would change everything.
May 2nd, 2016 - Prompt: "Write a poem about a tomato."
You know how I feel about tomatoes
Vine-ripened, beefsteak, fried green
Sun-kissed cherry or grape
Sweet, salty, juicy bursting in your mouth
Sliced thin (or thick) with basil, balsamic, mozzarella
(sliced thick)
My order was "a turkey club, hold the tomato"
What a fool I was
May 7th, 2016 - Prompt: A child needs to do one thing over and over to calm himself down when the adults get angry. What does he do? How did he learn it?
On. Off. On. Off. He flipped the light switch up and down as fast as he could. And then more slowly. He tried to hold the switch in between its two positions but it insisted on being up or down. He matched his breathing to the light switch's position. On. In. Off. Out. It was nice to be in control of this one small thing. He could wallow in darkness. He could bring light to a room. He could breathe. In. Out. On. Off.
Thanks for reading! If any of these prompts inspire you, send me how you would answer them. I especially want to read your poems about tomatoes!