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.

I Gave Myself Over

  • by Kentwithin the limits of safety and sanity, obviously
  • teach a monkey to change another monkey’s diapers
  • “here’s my cod”
  • official Duchess-wear
  • wouldn’t have thought a row of buttons in that spot would cause problems

Tune in next time part 710      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I gave myself over to the Dew-fugue. This song did not lie within the limits of safety and sanity, obviously, but it was my duty to perform it. When facing such challenges, I cast my mind back to my sophomore project, when I had to teach a monkey to change another monkey’s diapers. Nothing seems impossible anymore.

The rendition of my career told in the song was surprisingly accurate, although it portrayed me as something of a punster. If I hadn’t been under the influence of that glowing green beverage, I might have balked at the line where I supposedly told someone “here’s my cod” and handed over a fish as identification. Other details I couldn’t be sure weren’t true. Perhaps that disguise I once donned really was official Duchess-wear.

At last I swung into the climactic verse.

“My rank is elevated to the apex of the echelon
Luck or nepotism or find something else to blame it on
Among the snowy mountaintops my fortress was indomitable
The caves below it teemed with hordes of snowmen most abominable
It’s now my job to be in charge of comedy battalions
I take my soup with pepper and my omelets with scallions
Although I’m brave this number has me shaking in my epaulets
I never in my life before have seen so many wedding guests”

The crowd took over for the next line.
(he never in his life before has seen so many wedding guests, he never in his life before has seen so many wedding guests, he never in his life before has seen so many wedding wedding guests!)

And the big finale:
“In short in matters tactical or cryptozoological,
I am the very model of a Contrarian General!”

While I was still taking my bows, Fleur hauled me offstage. “There’s a situation,” she hissed. “We have to keep people from panicking, but it seems the engines lost power during your song. Somebody seems to have entered a special sequence that shut them down.” She pointed to a line of blinking red lights embedded in a tile on the dance floor, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have thought a row of buttons in that spot would cause problems.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

I Asked the Offensive Waiter

  • by jencutting off the wrong guy’s head
  • a monkey chaser
  • flowers in their hands
  • in which a mustachioed man holds two tomcats
  • I hope they jammed their fingers into him

Tune in next time part 709      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I asked the offensive waiter, “What’s your name?” I needed to know so that later when I complained to the Royal Contrarian Event Planner about his lack of respect, I wouldn’t be cutting off the wrong guy’s head-waiter promotion chances.

“Percival,” he improbably replied.

I twisted the cap off the soda bottle as I committed the name to memory, then I tipped my head back and chugged the whole thing. In my experience, Mountain Dew is always accompanied by a monkey chaser, but Percival hadn’t brought one. As I swallowed and swallowed, my eyes darted around the room in search of something, anything, to counteract the sugary burn. I saw women with flowers in their hands, which were of no use to me. The beverage hit my system hard and I experienced that classic Dew-induced hallucination in which a mustachioed man holds two tomcats above his head. Without a monkey chaser to dull the effects, I was in for a hell of a ride. I cursed Percival’s negligence. With the time-warping powers of the Dew I vowed to make his whole life until this moment a misery. I hope his schoolmates teased him. I hope they jammed their fingers into him and tickled him mercilessly.

The bottle was drained. I tossed it aside and perused the lyrics once again, and it was only as I opened my mouth to sing that I realized this was not Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Major-General’s Song.” It shared the same tune, but the lyrics were all specific to me and my life in the Contrarian military. The words tumbled out.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

By the Fiftieth Time Through

  • by Kentpontoon bridge over a hidden
  • sculpted entirely out of butter
  • stuck their noses in each other’s
  • narcotic-fueled bacchanals
  • I really don’t need to know about your weird sex life

Tune in next time part 708      Click Here for Earlier Installments

By the fiftieth time through that intro, I was becoming actively terrified of this pianist as her savage facial expression became ever harder to decipher. The delay in delivering my beverage hinted that the waiter had to cross a pontoon bridge over a hidden chasm somewhere deep in the bowels of the airship. Singing without it was unthinkable, so all I could do was wait.

Wait, and endure the pianist’s glare. I felt like a rabbit in front of a she-wolf, if the rabbit were sculpted entirely out of butter and the she-wolf’s eyes were heat lamps. Those opening bars of the Major-General’s Song, repeating again and again, made me dizzy. I tried to focus on memorizing the lyrics, but my thoughts were like dogs that stuck their noses in each other’s butts and went around and around in circles. My accompanist seethed at me, striking the keys ferociously, but all I could envision was accompanying her to narcotic-fueled bacchanals.

At last the waiter returned with the Mountain Dew. “Thanks,” I said. “Right now this is what I need more than anything else in the world.”

“I really don’t need to know about your weird sex life,” he replied.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

To My Dismay, the Lyrics

  • by jenleaping for this dazzling incomparable adventure
  • bright green carbonated beverage
  • If I could promise you just one thing
  • spearheaded by a magician
  • only I can see her

Tune in next time part 707      Click Here for Earlier Installments

To my dismay, the lyrics taped to the stage were those of the “Major-General’s Song” from the Pirates of Penzance. A younger version of me, the me from drama club, would be leaping for this dazzling incomparable adventure, the singing of such a challenging tune in front of a rapt audience. That starry-eyed thespian was long gone, though, and the only way for me to tap into his enthusiasm, and power through this ordeal was to drink a large quantity of every teen’s favorite bright green carbonated beverage. A pianist ran through the intro several times while I flagged down a passing cater-waiter and ordered him to bring me a 2 liter bottle of Mountain Dew. I may not actually be a Major-General, but I am a general General. He took one look at the medals on my sash and darted off to the kitchen. The pianist was quite irked by the delay. Her playing became brisker and pointier and she threw me looks that said, “If I could promise you just one thing, it’s that if you don’t start singing soon I will murder you in your sleep with a stick spearheaded by a magician‘s magic dagger.” Such an outlandish threat! And yet, I thought, underneath the hostility she behaves so wantonly I can see her complete lack of undergarments, even when she’s seated behind the piano.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Fleur’s Celebratory PJs

  • by Kentappear naked, while not actually *being* naked
  • to mock a killingbird
  • more of a psychotic gangster than a
  • wearing an orange hunting vest
  • “It’s… well, it’s a show tune.”

Tune in next time part 706      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Fleur’s celebratory PJs were a pink flannel catsuit adorned with cartoony fruits. There were exactly three fruits — two strawberries and a nectarine — deployed strategically so as to let the wearer appear naked, while not actually being naked. She licked the cake frosting off her lips, then stuffed more cake into her mouth so she could lick her lips at me some more.

“You seem to be enjoying my mother’s wedding more than you enjoyed our own,” I quipped.

“It’s bad luck to mock a killingbird at a Contrarian wedding,” she purred.

“I think in that getup you’re more of a sphynx cat than a bird.” I should have chosen my words more carefully, because she was a warlord’s daughter and really more of a psychotic gangster than a wife. I assumed she would spin around to reveal wings and give me a lengthy explanation of the symbolism.

She did spin around, but there were no wings on her pajamas and she just walked away. I knew from the swinging of her hips that I was meant to follow, and it was a rather pleasant invitation. I wondered if she would lead me all the way to her quarters, or if there was some closer spot she had in mind. I followed her through a maze of corridors until suddenly I found myself speared by a spotlight on the stage. The band had just completed their set. Fleur had disappeared, and a man wearing an orange hunting vest was handing me a microphone.

“It’s customary for the bride’s son to sing a song,” he said. “A specific song. The lyrics are taped to the stage.” He sounded apologetic. “It’s… well, it’s a show tune.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

The Animal Noises Continued Unabated

  • by jen“There are balloons.”
  • thanks for starting me on my career path
  • I’m in love. And speechless.
  • sufficiently versed in the stranger’s system of stenography
  • “Wash your face before you hug your mother,”

Tune in next time part 705      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The animal noises continued unabated until the band reached the chorus, which contained the song’s only lyrics, “There are balloons.” They repeated it a dozen or more times, and got the whole crowd to sing along. The song finally ended with a jubilant cry of “There! Are! Balloons!” as hundreds of golden balloons dropped from the ceiling.

John took up the microphone and gazed at my mother. “It’s my turn to give a toast. I’d like to say thanks for starting me on my career path. If you hadn’t paid my tuition at the Academy, my life would be so different.” He sounded choked up, and had trouble saying the next part. “I’m in love. And speechless.”

“Can you repeat that?” called a woman in the corner. I somehow hadn’t noticed her before. She was dressed like a prim secretary from the 1950s, and sat behind a small typewriter like a court reporter. I didn’t remember stenographers being a part of any Contrarian wedding ceremonies. Honeymoons, sure, but not the ceremony or the reception.

John cleared his throat and repeated his toast as I made my way to the corner. I wanted to see who she was and what she was up to, but I was insufficiently versed in the stranger’s system of stenography to read her notes immediately.

As I tried to puzzle it out, Fleur darted up and smashed a piece of wedding cake into my mouth. She kissed me with frosting-covered lips, then laughed. “Wash your face before you hug your mother,” she said, smearing icing around my mouth like clown makeup.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

In That Moment

  • by Kentmy one single concern
  • doesn’t even know who her brother is
  • sound like someone slapping an elephant in the ribs with a slightly smaller elephant
  • in tall green letters
  • making animal sounds

Tune in next time part 704      Click Here for Earlier Installments

In that moment of altruism, my one single concern truly was for the emotional well-being of the children. But I quickly realized that nothing in Mother’s salacious little speech would make any sense to people so young. She’d done them no harm, so far. But I knew from personal experience that being a child around her was not the safest situation.

I also knew that she wasn’t going to listen to me. So I decided to appeal to John instead. After all, it had been a long time since that harpoon incident. “That woman will be the death of you,” I called out, my medals clinking. “She acts like she’s got it all under control, but she doesn’t even know who her brother is selling secrets to.”

“I don’t have a brother,” Mother told him flatly. “And it’s time for the first dance.”

The band had been setting up this whole time. But, evidently, not tuning up. They all slammed into action at once, producing a sound like someone slapping an elephant in the ribs with a slightly smaller elephant that was connected to numerous amplifiers. On the bass drum I saw their name in tall green letters, but it was a shade of green that I had never learned to read. One of them grabbed a microphone and started making animal sounds. I scanned the faces around me, trying to determine if this was real or if I had been drugged again.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

My Ceremonial Pajamas were Polka-Dotted

  • by jenGrandma wore a black, beaded, sequined wedding gown
  • I’m going to remember tonight forever
  • describing him as a drunken maniac
  • jack-in-the-box wound to the breaking point
  • joke about having sex with bigfoot

Tune in next time part 703      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My ceremonial pajamas were polka-dotted, and of the footie variety, with a sash for my medals. I hurried to the reception, wondering about the message on the mirror. Was it true? Could the marriage still be stopped?

When I burst into the ballroom, Mother and John were in the process of handing each other small metal tins. I was too late! They’d exchanged snuffboxes! To make things worse, they were surrounded by my many, many children.

Mother looked at the army of babies and said, “I hope you will all remember that Grandma wore a black, beaded, sequined wedding gown, and that she looked damn fine.”

“I know I’m going to remember tonight forever,” said John with a lewd wink.

I tried to push my way through the crowd to reach them, still hoping to somehow stop things. Mother took up a microphone and gave a toast about her new husband, describing him as a drunken maniac who won her heart in a game of snooker. I was so upset I felt like a jack-in-the-box wound to the breaking point, and that was before my mother praised John’s hairy chest and made a joke about having sex with bigfoot.

“Mother!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “Not in front of the children!”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

“You Stay Away From My Mother”

  • by Kentequally frustrated wife
  • snake-based consequences
  • multicolored donkey wallpaper
  • by an unidentified hand with red ink
  • exchanged snuff-boxes

Tune in next time part 702      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“You stay away from my mother,” I said to John.

“Don’t listen to him,” Mother said, “or I’ll have a frustrated husband who’ll have an equally frustrated wife.”

Fleur hauled on my arm, spinning me to face her yet again. “You need to change into your ceremonial pajamas,” she scolded, thrusting a cloth bundle into my hands.

“Didn’t we already miss the reception?” I complained.

Nodding impatiently she said, “Showing up improperly dressed at the reception would have consequences, and since this is the second reception they’d be snake-based consequences.”

I sulked off to the nearest lavatory to change. It had multicolored donkey wallpaper, which was how I knew this wedding chapel was aboard a Contrarian zeppelin. A message had been smeared on the mirror by an unidentified hand with red ink on the fingertips. It said, “The wedding doesn’t count if they haven’t exchanged snuff-boxes.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

The Groom Turned his Masked Face Back to Me

  • by jenapplied a laser wand
  • “Dad? Daddy?”
  • each guest puts on a pair of pajamas
  • gracious meals and gourmet tastes
  • pretty bananas

Tune in next time part 701      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The groom turned his masked face back to me, threw open his green tuxedo jacket, and gestured extravagantly at the aquarium belt encircling his waist. Muddy green eels swam in circles through his belt loops, past colorful strands of fake plastic seaweed.

“Very nice,” I said. If I understood the tradition correctly, this little show-and-tell meant that I wasn’t going to be stabbed. It was the best I could hope for under the circumstances.

The rest of the ceremony took place in total silence. No music. No speaking. The officiant and the happy couple did the whole thing in pantomime. This was very unlike any of my own weddings. Contrarian rites and ceremonies have dozens of sub-variants depending on multitudinous factors. If I was remembering correctly, a silent wedding meant that neither the bride nor the groom were native-born Contrarians.

After Mother and her beau exchanged earrings, they each applied a laser wand to the wedding certificate, drawing a stick figure man and woman. The officiant took the wand and drew a heart around their doodles, making it all legal.

Fleur appeared beside me. “Are you going to call him Father?” she whispered. “Dad? Daddy?”

“None of the above,” I whispered back.

The officiant glared at us to be quiet. Then he mimed changing his pants while eating something held in his fist. Fleur translated. “Now is the part where each guest puts on a pair of pajamas for the reception. It will be a grand party, in Contrarian tradition, with gracious meals and gourmet tastes, and a table piled high with bunches and bunches of really pretty bananas.”

“Bananas!” A banana buffet at a Contrarian wedding reception meant that the groom was an old friend of the son of the bride, and also bad at cyphers. “It can’t be!”

“I’m afraid it is,” said John, pulling off his mask. “And don’t even think about calling me Papa John.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!