Daily Stats:
Words: ...wha?
Caffeine: morning cup & midmorning iced latte
Evil Calories: is it possible to OD on banana bread?
Reality TV: Project Runway
I keep trying to do some "creative bench presses", but every time I try and rouse my brain it slaps the snooze button and dozes off again. Lazy bastard.
A few years ago I took a creative writing class, and our instructor (who I'm fairly certain was stoned the entire semester) would give us a "prompt" at the beginning of every class and we'd have to write something from his prompt (and while we wrote, he'd go spend some quality time with the vending machine). By prompt, I mean he'd either give us a basic plot (ie. A man wages war on his package of Twinkies) or an opening sentence (ie. "Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight as she walked toward me, and I knew it was all over.") His were always a little "out there" (go figure), but it was a clever idea. And it worked. At least to get things churning.
Now, here's the tricky part. I can't just come up with a prompt on my own. I need someone to give it to me. And since the only people around are my wobbly, wheezing cat and my 2 & 1/2 year old son, the only suggestions I'll get are "chew on your leg for 7.3 minutes" or "put cheerios in your nose, it's fun". So, dear reader, I need your help. It can be anything...plot idea, first sentence or just a general situation. You can even leave it anonymously if you're feeling shy. Then I'll pick one and post what I've written.
(and if no one participates in this, I'm going to feel like the biggest ass and I will promptly pour my sorrows into massive amounts of chocolate.)
4 comments:
ok i'll play
"I opened the door and heard the shrieking."
We were together for 7 years, and I miss him. No. I miss what he was. By the end, it was torture to be with someone who resembles the man you love, but, quite simply, wasnt him.
(and if it helps, this is real life! ha ha!)
"I knew this would be an...um...interesting day when I discovered that the barista had put espresso in my chai and that some smart ass had tinkered with my Pandora, replacing my regular Cure station with Toby Keith. My first thought was...."
Go.
The priest's sermon seemed endless, but I didn't really care,as it gave me time to pick the dried blood out from under my nails.
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