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.

“For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”

  • by jennice to see her happy again
  • nothing to do with my sister being in the room
  • in the august presence of rhombohedral crystals
  • break in his young men slowly
  • sang three little boys together

“For he’s a jolly good fellow,” sang three little boys together, in perfect, three-part harmony. The choirmaster liked to break in his young men slowly, which is why he started them off with such a banal tune. Later, in the august presence of rhombohedral crystals and all the other trappings of the pagan altar, they would face a much more difficult test of their nascent vocal talents. The choirmaster’s dedication to musical perfection had almost nothing to do with my sister being in the room, even though, as queen, she could order his execution at any moment. She has a soft spot for the choirmaster, and after all the troubles of last winter, it’s nice to see her happy again.

“Which nobody can deny!”

 

bonus points for using them in reverse order!

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The Assignment Had Me Worried

  • elements of forbidden sex and lurid mutilations
    k-avatar
  • no idea how much blood
  • full of glassy accusation
  • sometimes I get overzealous
  • never written a vampire story before

The assignment had me worried about my GPA. I had never written a vampire story before, so I had no idea how much blood there really was supposed to be, or how blatantly to handle the elements of forbidden sex and lurid mutilations. But when I asked Professor Kerensky for some guidance, he glared at me and said, “These are the very things you are to learn by doing this assignment,” his voice full of diesel fuel and his eyes full of glassy accusation. So I kicked him in the shin. When it comes to my GPA, sometimes I get overzealous.

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I Couldn’t Help Laughing at Chet

  • by jenhe was a full-grown man
  • tiny clothes that actually fit
  • drew a revolver from his belt
  • you rang the eskimo
  • here at your request

I couldn’t help laughing at Chet. He was a full-grown man wearing a cowboy costume, tiny clothes that actually fit his adolescent brother better than they did him. Chet drew a revolver from his belt (a toy, I hoped) and aimed it at me. “You rang the eskimo‘s private number, LuAnne. You’re the one who ordered up a gigolo. You’re the one who specifically requested chaps and a stetson. I’m here at your request, and I’ll thank you to stop laughing at me.”

bonus points for using them in order

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There’s No Way To Predict

  • it’ll pull, you know what I’m saying?
    k-avatar
  • air quotes practically crackled
  • he was genuinely ugly
  • thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow
  • rendered him master of far mightier muscles than his own

“There’s no way to predict how much it’ll pull, you know what I’m saying?”

I did not know what he was saying, but I could smell ozone and grease. The engines’ whine made conversation nigh impossible, and with such a charge in the air, quotes practically crackled with urgency.

“We have no choice,” I shouted into his calm face. He nodded and deactivated the autopilot, giving me full manual control of our lumbering, wallowing vessel. Everyone told us it would be bad luck to break with tradition and use a male name, but everything about the boat told us its name was Archie. He was genuinely ugly, and probably the toughest thing afloat. Archie was a brute among icebreakers and minesweepers, virtually indestructible.

But that didn’t make him unsinkable, and his steering was as genuinely ugly as he was. It pulled quite a bit, as a matter of fact, with the hydraulics cut out of the equation. The storm’s mountainous waves tossed us like a soda bottle. Gales whipped snow and spray across our decks. I concentrated on not smacking directly into any icebergs, although how I would see them through the blizzard I had no idea. I thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow, tuning my mind to the weather gods’ plane for guidance.

“I fixed it,” he said simply, flopping into the other seat and reengaging the autopilot. “Tell me which way to point us.” I loosened my grip on the helm, feeling only then the ache in my hands and shoulders. My companion showed no strain, now that the systems were repaired. The hydro-assist patched into the helm rendered him master of far mightier muscles than his own.

bonus points for using them in order

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Mink Jodhpurs?

  • by jenlittle things, like Band-Aids
  • kept the last of my clothes on
  • pissing off PETA
  • something even more sinister
  • ripping my trousers, cutting my leg

“Mink jodhpurs? Twyla! What were you thinking?” cried Octavius as he swung his blade wildly, ripping my trousers, cutting my leg. “Before you know it you’ll be pissing off PETA and they’ll be throwing paint on you, or something even more sinister.”

By then my pants were in ruins on the floor and my legs were bleeding. Before Octavius could destroy it, too, I removed my ermine bolero jacket. I kept the last of my clothes on and watched in fascination as Octavius tended my wounds, spackling my legs with these weird little things, like Band-Aids, only shiny and smelling of opium. Soon enough I didn’t care about my expensive rags anymore. I was ready for my red carpet debut!

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Hendrick Loved Indulging

  • smiling slightly as he spoke
    k-avatar
  • gloomily grand and savagely vexed
  • and then later, we swooned
  • shower of fragments and woodlice and decay
  • indulging in the luxury

Hendrick loved indulging in the luxury of genuine materials, smiling slightly as he spoke of how authenticity had often led him to unexpected stimulation, like the gloomily grand and savagely vexed old half-timber cottage he bought sight-unseen, only to have the roof fall in on him in a shower of fragments and woodlice and decay the first night he slept there, him without me, that part of the memory dimming his smile and prompting me to guide him to the divan where we spooned, and then later, we swooned.

bonus points for using them all in one sentence

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Mike Was Four Thousand Feet Above the Foothills

  • by jenan organ resembling a heart
  • a recipe for madness
  • four thousand feet above the foothills
  • just a ball of nerves
  • on the verge of starvation

Mike was four thousand feet above the foothills and on the verge of starvation when he finally broke down and ate the yeti carcass, starting with an organ resembling a heart that in fact was just a ball of nerves and rudimentary, miniaturized teeth, at which point his meal became a recipe for madness.

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Everybody Knows The Move

  • the gray grim gut-punch of Newcastle
    k-avatar
  • the unlucky and the morally dyslexic
  • launching attacks against
  • that charming smile people had come to expect
  • unless you’re some kind of a rockstar

Everybody knows the move I’m about to try. It’s called the Gray Grim Gut-Punch of Newcastle, and it’s the tactic of last resort of the unlucky and the morally dyslexic, both of which categories I fit into quite neatly. They all know it, and they know I’m just that desperate, as I must be if I’m launching attacks against the Wiggins, the gang that owns these streets, and has done since the Magna Carta, ruffians and cutpurses and freelance assassins all. My desperation move is going to be totally expected, and without the element of surprise there’s just no point even trying the Gray Grim Gut-Punch of Newcastle, because it takes so long to set it up. It’s hopeless. So I flash that charming smile people had come to expect, the smile that prefaces all my attempts at talking my way out of a drubbing. And it tilts things just enough, gets the Wiggins convinced I’m hoping my hyperdeveloped vocabulary will save me and makes them stop watching the real windup. Whump! The horrendous, retching, gagging grunt that heaves out of the first one I Gut-Punch paralyzes his mates, and by the time any of them unfreeze I’ve laid out two others. Sure, the totally expected move is pointless, unless you’re some kind of a rockstar, or at least know how to smile like one.

bonus points for using them in order!

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Ofttimes In My Job as a Wedding Planner

  • by jenplays cat and mouse with the yakuza
  • simply wasn’t awesome enough
  • in blissful ignorance of the preparations
  • liked each other sincerely enough that there was little awkwardness
  • one helluva romp

Ofttimes in my job as a wedding planner I am at the beck and call of a very demanding and challenging bride, but none in my experience were worse than Catrinka. Popular culture calls these women “Bridezillas” but I see Catrinka as a different sort of Japanese-inspired trope: the geisha who plays cat and mouse with the yakuza and Daddy’s checkbook.

Nothing could please Catrinka. No matter how spectacular or expensive an item or venue, it simply wasn’t awesome enough for Catrinka. Her groom-to-be, Harold, meanwhile meandered along in blissful ignorance of the preparations. He cared naught for the details of the wedding or reception as long as the bachelor party was, in his words, “one helluva romp.” Catrinka didn’t give a fig what he and his friends got up to with the strippers as long as Harold arrived on time to the wedding wearing the proper color bow tie and socks. The betrothed liked each other sincerely enough that there was little awkwardness in this arrangement. And the checks all cleared, so I suppose I ultimately have nothing to complain about.

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Oh God, Do You Think This Town Has a Taco Truck?

  • I helped him to do it!k-avatar
  • for a grander fate!
  • we knew we’d have a reasonable turnout
  • you suck!
  • Oh god, do you think this town has a taco truck?

“Oh god, do you think this town has a taco truck?”

I had to answer carefully, and so chose not to say anything at all. I had only just met Darlene so I didn’t know yet whether she was testing me. Was she relying on the secret meaning of “taco truck” or was she just hungry? I took the exit ramp, so our options would be open.

“You suck!” Darlene spat. My knuckles turned white on the wheel, but then she laughed. Only then did I notice she was playing a game on her phone, and it was the game which had elicited her condemnation.

“Maybe, if there is a taco truck,” I said cagily, “we should pick up a few extras to take along.” We were almost to the meeting site. We knew we’d have a reasonable turnout and the catering was bound to be inadequate.

She shrugged. A clever counter-agent hoping I’d tip my hand? Or just the apathetic teenager she appeared to be? Maddening. When had my career degenerated into these pointless road trips? My training had certainly prepped me for a grander fate!

Darlene put away her phone and sighed. “If there is a taco truck,” she said, “you keep the driver occupied so I can sneak up on him with the chloroform. Then we’ll have to ditch this car and roll up to the meeting in the truck.” She stared at the trees and utility poles along the highway for a silent moment. “And if there’s not, well, I guess we’ll find a drive-through and get some lunch. Play things by ear later on.”

I looked at my smiling reflection in the rear-view mirror, watching all my worries recede with the trees and poles. I never should have doubted Darlene’s integrity, should have known Edgar wouldn’t let me down. He set up a perfect system for recruiting these operatives, which I knew only too well because I helped him do it!

bonus points for using them in reverse order!

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