Category: Writing Prompts

Prompts are short, fun exercises that can be used to get the creative juices flowing or break the ice at a critique meeting. They start as a brief list of ingredients, forming a challenge for the writer to incorporate all of them into one self-contained piece. There are many ways to come up with prompts and each author will find a unique way to express a given prompt.

Everyone In Town These Days

  • k-avatara family of ducklings and a baby seal
  • Beatlemania epidemic
  • “Fetch me another drinky-poo, won’t you dear?”
  • fanciful scarves and costume jewelry
  • blaming Mountain Dew

Everyone in town these days went around bedecked in fanciful scarves and costume jewelry. It was no worse than the Beatlemania epidemic from a few years ago, but it meant that Tristan didn’t fit in. As usual.

“Fetch me another drinky-poo, won’t you dear?”

“Sure, Uncle Milt.” Tristan slogged to the kitchen. The fabulousness disease somehow impaired everyone’s normal ability to get things for themselves. The cause was unknown, but for now Tristan was blaming Mountain Dew. Still, that’s what Uncle Milt wanted.

“Here you go.”

“Oh, you’re just as cute as a family of ducklings and a baby seal all rolled into one!”

Tristan knew it was meant as a compliment, but he was in no mood to take it gracefully.

“If you rolled them all into one, they wouldn’t be cute at all.”

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No Matter What You May Be Thinking

  • eby jenffluvia on his desk
  • robes of office
  • dark bulk
  • “Mom! Mom!” he cried
  • everyone is offering him money
  • a story about prostitution
  • a late snack
  • waverings and backslidings

No matter what you may be thinking, this is not a story about prostitution, full of waverings and backslidings of the moral variety, but ultimately ending with redemption for the hooker with the heart of gold. This is a different sort of story altogether – although it is about prostitution. It is less like a smorgasbord of character development, deep, timeless themes, and witty prose, and more like a late snack of pure porn.

The judge stands in the shadowy corner of his chambers, his robes of office rendering him a mere dark bulk to Effluvia’s eyes. She knows everyone is offering him money to rule in their favor, but Effluvia doesn’t have much money. So she is offering him her body.

He stands in the corner, staring at the reclining Effluvia on his desk, nude and legs akimbo.

“Mom! Mom!” he cried, suddenly recognizing her.

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Heinrich Floats Face-Down

  • k-avatarnibbled by snails
  • you selfish bitch
  • Germany’s not the holy land
  • chin, belly and balls are jutting promontories
  • grey stucco urinal
  • always so malignant

Heinrich floats face-down in the vast aquarium; his chin, belly and balls are jutting promontories nibbled by snails that have slithered up the sides of the tank. His buttocks and snorkel protrude above the surface; they bulge forth into the air and give landing space to multicolored insect life.

In Heinrich’s memory, his mother’s voice assaults him. “Germany’s not the holy land,” she says icily. Well, neither is Queens, you selfish bitch.

Her words were always so malignant, like the smell of the grey stucco urinal in the back room of the “pet store” where Heinrich found solace among his invertebrate friends, and their nibbling.

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Felicity Shook Her Head Sadly

  • by jenand a big swimming turtle
  • except his penis
  • his possible sexual approach
  • a sluglike glob of substance
  • a mysterious human skeleton?
  • no subtlety, just penis and vulva

Felicity shook her head sadly as she considered the naked man in front of her and his possible sexual approach, knowing there would be no subtlety, just penis and vulva, except his penis was merely a sluglike glob of substance, and a big swimming turtle-like scrotum dangled underneath.

What have I done, wondered Felicity, to prompt my pimp to sell me to such a mysterious human skeleton?

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The Final Ten Minutes

  • k-avatarsmelled like urine and something else
  • promised to be an energizing climax
  • Not bad for a peeping tom.
  • entering its treacherous swamps
  • punched the yellow button
  • Hot, in fact

The final ten minutes of the DVD promised to be an energizing climax, as the rugged and rogueish hero punched the yellow button to deploy his vehicle’s pontoons and give chase through the river delta, entering its treacherous swamps at full speed.

But Julia pressed the yellow button on her remote, pausing the action hero to study the reflection on the screen. A man stood outside her open window.

“Climb on in,” she said, and he looked around like maybe she’d intended the invitation for some other voyeur. Then he clambered over the sill and stood directly behind Julia’s chair. He smelled like urine and something else. Not bad for a peeping tom.

Julia turned to look at him directly. Not bad at all. Hot, in fact.

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When I Saw Him By The Well

  • by jenI intend to win!
  • I saw him by the well
  • what do you want, Raimundo?
  • a transaction betwixt you, me and the August weather
  • carrying a rubber dinosaur between them
  • I am like the fisherman

When I saw him by the well, I should have turned around and taken another route through town, but I did not and now I regretted it.

“What do you want, Raimundo?” I sighed.

“Nothing at all Celeste, excepting a transaction betwixt you, me, and the August weather.” He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

I snorted at his feeble attempt to woo me.

“Laugh all you like, Celeste,” Raimundo said. “We are both familiar with the old story of the fisherman and the computer programmer carrying a rubber dinosaur between them until one collapsed, proving the superiority of his rival. I am like the fisherman in that story, Celeste, and, just like that fisherman, I intend to win!”

I hate to admit it, but my heart fluttered at his declaration.

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My Left Lung Contains Compressed Natural Gas

  • k-avatarMy left lung
  • “Doc! Moose!”
  • and her pet Arthur
  • unfamiliar with “flipping the bird”
  • Puerto Rico meant nothing to her
  • “Survival of the fittest,” she hissed
  • “Far worse, Uncle Kent,”

My left lung contains compressed natural gas, which gives me a formidable weapon but impairs my stamina. My partner’s toenails can generate an electromagnetic pulse, making her a threat to sensitive electronics and augmenting her tap dancing.

“Doc! Moose!” That had to be Biff, counteragent and general numbskull, calling for his associates. We were in danger.

My partner rounded a corner in the warehouse and stopped short, confronted by all three of our enemies. I peered past her to see the men’s disappointed faces as they discovered she was unfamiliar with “flipping the bird.” Suddenly she leapt aside, and the bullets struck me instead. Moments later she returned fire, dispatching her clueless adversaries.

“Wait,” I groaned as she started to leave.

“Survival of the fittest,” she hissed. Puerto Rico meant nothing to her.

The gunshots had embedded harmlessly in the kevlar envelope surrounding my left lung, but I was woozy. I just needed a hand up, but she was abandoning me for dead. So I flicked my lighter and exhaled forcefully, roasting her where she stood.

Her, and her pet Arthur the Mouse who always rode in her pocket.

“Can this day get any worse?” I muttered.

“Far worse, Uncle Kent,” came my evil nephew’s chilling retort.

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Reggie Was Growing Disenchanted

  • by jen“Blowing hard on his face,”
  • from a roadside zoo in Florida
  • order his midnight niblets
  • or ugly or evil
  • his particular phobia is length
  • forced to labor in the vineyards
  • Attacking me, mind you!

Reggie was growing disenchanted with the casting process for the Hieronymus Warhol movie.

“Does he have references?” she asked of an actor hoping to play the hero.

“Yes,” signed Jen. “But they’re from a roadside zoo in Florida.”

Reggie snorted and tossed the headshot aside. “He is not outrageous or ugly or evil-smelling enough, plus his particular phobia is length, if you know what I mean. He’ll never work as Hero.”

“He should be forced to labor in the vineyards until he no longer desires an acting career,” agreed Jen.

Jen picked up the next headshot from the pile beside the margaritas. She whistled and handed it to Reggie.

“Blowing hard on his face,” Reggie said, “is how I would like to start my morning.”

“Why don’t you order his midnight niblets and see where it leads?” said Jen.

Reggie smirked. “I would if I didn’t need to worry about Naveen’s jealousy attacking. Attacking me, mind you! If Naveen’s jealousy would settle for only attacking this handsome actor, it might be worth a try.”

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My Stomach Attacked Me

  • k-avatarmy stomach attacked me
  • on an inaudible chemical level
  • unimaginative weapons
  • Pardon my patronizing tone
  • she feigned innocence
  • The trees helped a lot
  • Improved by human effort

My stomach attacked me with the unimaginative weapons available to such an organ, assailing me with ferocious pangs and horrendous cramps on an inaudible chemical level.

The trees helped a lot, abounding with apples, pears, and squirrels. Soon my appetite was sated.

“Pardon my patronizing tone,” announced an unctuous female voice, “but what are you doing up in my tree?”

“Your tree?” I responded hotly. “And in your case, it’s actually a matronizing tone.”

She feigned innocence, but I heard her mutter, “Idiot!”

The natural process of evolution had been improved by human effort, giving rise to trees that could defend themselves by constriction, a fact I learned just too late for it to do me any good.

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“And That’s How I Came To Write The Flying Nun”

  • by jenmuttering they strolled
  • well, he looked obscene
  • came to write The Flying Nun
  • only a naked young girl lying spread-eagled
  • raging in his aged skull
  • I know you’re part Indian!
  • editor of this lunatic volume

“And that’s how I came to write The Flying Nun for half a season,” Devlin du Mauvais said, then added, “They fired me for obscenity.”

“Obscenity?” asked Delight. “Do tell!” She loved everything obscene, especially Devlin because, well, he looked obscene even fully dressed.

“It was only a naked young girl lying spread-eagled on the altar, but they took offense.”

Delight giggled at Devlin and the wickedness raging in his aged skull.

“I found the most remarkable book today,” she said, and showed him The Saga of Hieronymus Warhol. “You’re a character in it!”

Devlin snatched the tome and riffled through its pages. “I must find the editor of this lunatic volume, as well as the authors, and eviscerate them!”

While he continued muttering they strolled into the bedroom where Delight was to perform an erotic skit for her demon lover.

After donning her chaps and spurs, she began. “I know you’re part Indian!”

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