Category: My Writing

642 things to write about – Write an alphabetical story.

On By kepagewriterIn My Writing2 Comments

Writing Prompt – Write a story in which each sentence will start with a different letter of the alphabet e.g. start with A, move on to B and so on.

This was quite good fun. And I know I didn’t get all the way through but I couldn’t think of an X word. If you can come up with a sentence starting with X, please let me know.

At this time in the morning, the sky was still dark. Bryan got up anyway. Carefully, he slid out of the covers. Downstairs others were starting to stir. Excitement started to touch him. Fairly soon, he’d be getting his fill. Grabbing a towel and tying it around his waist, he headed for the communal showers.

Hot water stabbed at his shoulders. In no time at all, he was clean and properly awake. Just as quickly, he toweled himself down. Knocking his knee on the sink, he cursed his haste. Likelihood of bruising, high. Muttering to himself, he hurried back to his bedroom.

Now, he was fully dressed. Opening his door, he saw others heading in the same direction. Perhaps he should have hurried even more. Quickly, he tried to get ahead, to be one of the first. Rationally, he knew that there would be enough for all but his growling belly pushed him on.

Still he couldn’t get to the front of the queue. Too many to push out of the way. Unless someone fainted, he’d be stuck where he was. Very soon, he thought, it’ll be me who faints. What would happen then?

642 things to write about – Write two very different love letters

On By kepagewriterIn My WritingLeave a comment

You are a thirteen year old. Write a love letter to your boyfriend.

OMG, you are so beautiful. Your blond hair is all gold like the sun. Your eyes are blue like the sky. When you smile, my heart flutters round like a butterfly. The other day, when you waited for me outside chemistry for you and I saw you there, all handsome and tall, I thought I was having a heart attack, it was pounding so hard. I was tempted to faint. Jen. Lisa and Caro were so jealous. LOL. If I had died right there, it would have been perfect. 

Yesterday, when you held my hand for the first time, I was in heaven. All I can think about, all the time, is when you kiss me for the first time. I am literally dying for that to happen. I hope it will be tomorrow when we go to the pictures but it doesn’t matter how long it takes because I love you forever. 

You are twenty one years old. Write a letter to your girlfriend.

I’m not sure I should write this down. Is this stupid? Perhaps it will scare you away. Don’t get me wrong, I do like you. I like you a lot. But words on a page are very definite, aren’t they? They can’t be unwritten. Does it seem a bit full on?

I would like to have a future with you. I can see it sometimes, like in the morning when I wake up and you are still sleeping. I know then that I wouldn’t be sorry if this was forever. You look so content and peaceful. There is a calmness in my life now and I know that I like that very much. That’s not too scary, is it? You feel it too, don’t you? God, I hope so.  

Writing Prompt – Make a list of the things that make you angry and then choose one of them to write about

On By kepagewriterIn My WritingLeave a comment

This is quite an easy prompt for me as just about everything in the world makes me angry these days. Or if not angry at least a little irritated. So I am being quite restrained in keeping this list to ten things. There was a temptation, once I’d started, to just keep going. 

Writing prompt from 642 things to write about – Make a list of the things that make you angry and then choose one of them to write about. 

  1. Homophobia / Racism / Sexism
  2. Reality TV
  3. Stupidity
  4. Current education policy / Ofsted
  5. Mainstream music / film
  6. Modern parenting
  7. Ads with celebrity voiceovers / cameos
  8. People who are famous for nothing
  9. My computer’s inability to work for more than half an hour without crashing
  10. Trivial facebook statuses – I really don’t care what you are eating / watching / listening to right now.

Ads with celebrity voiceovers / cameos

Why does nobody ever seem to think about what they are advertising? Celebrities seem all too willing to sell their soul to whoever will give them the most money. And for a lot of them, it can’t be an issue of need. So why do it? Exactly how are we supposed to take David Mitchell seriously as a cultural commentator now that he has done a voiceover for that Phones For You advert. Surely the sort of nonsense he would be only to happy to ridicule if it were anyone else. But it’s okay. Just so long as he got paid shed loads.

The current king of all this is Kevin Bacon. Once a fairly good actor, now purveyor of dubious mobile phone promises. Whenever I see him, I feel let down. I’m not sure if it’s the chummy, smugness of his tone or the deadness of his expression that is more annoying. Whatever it is, I doubt I could ever take him seriously on the big screen again. Still, I’m sure the huge amount of money he got paid more than makes up for the loss of his dignity. 

 

An Excellent Gift for a Writer – 642 things to write about.

On By kepagewriterIn My WritingLeave a comment

My favourite gift this year was a book called 642 Things to Write About which is full of writing prompts. I could barely wait for guests to leave before I started to write in it.

As I am always looking for things to write in this blog, I shall share what I write. I’m not going to promise to do it everyday as once I am back at work, that will be impossible but I will try to do it regularly.

Here is the first one:

Write a scene that begins “It was the first time I killed a man.”

It was the first time I had killed a man. But not the last.

It didn’t feel as bad as I might have supposed. The distance was the thing. It was the bullet rather than the knife so I didn’t have to witness it eye to eye, as it were. There was no hot blood oozing over my hands. I saw his body drop though, all heavy like lead. Straight for the floor. Like a giant hand had cut all his strings. The wound was to the head so death was probably instant. If not, it would surely have been quick.

Of course, he was one of the bad guys. That was what the Government said. So his death didn’t really trouble me. No more than shooting a rat might have. Vermin. Better off dead. And of more use. 

Now that the Fuel Wars are over and the Government has retained supreme control, it is hard for the young ones to imagine what it was like. The fear we had then was all-consuming. And then there was the cold. That sneaks up sometimes. I’ll wake in the morning and the toes are outside the quilt and they are like ice and I get transported back there. To huddling together with all the people in your building. To having nothing to sit on, nothing to read, nothing at all because it had all been burned. And the thought, what would happen when everything had been burned. 

That had been my reason for going to fight for the Government rather than the rebels. The Government gave you a thermal uniform. You got gloves, socks and regular meals. All the rebels could give you was a sense of moral superiority and that does not really keep you warm. 

I admit I don’t think often of those who died, whether by my hand or one of my fellow soldiers. I think, instead, of how warm it is now. 

 

Projects, new and old.

On By kepagewriterIn My Writing, Updates and information2 Comments

I made the decision not to join NaNoWriMo because it didn’t really fit in with my schedule. I was editing at the start of the month and a new project didn’t seem feasible. Also, I thought that there was no way I’d manage the 50000 words. Editing Choose Yr Future was making me fed up and I thought I might have a break from writing when I’d got to a stage where I was happy to put Choose Yr Future to one side for a few months so that I can come back to it and be a bit objective.

Almost immediately I put it to one side, new ideas started to flow. I wrote a character description for one of the prompts for Chrys Fey’s 30 day writing challenge and then the words just wouldn’t stop. Now I have written 42000 words and wish I had focused myself a bit more to get to the 50000 deadline. Of course, this isn’t the finished thing, by any stretch. A good start has been made.

It hasn’t a name yet. That will come. Sometimes naturally. Choose Yr Future, I had to work at. I knew it had to be something to do with choice as that is an important theme. Long lists of possible names followed. At the minute, getting words on the page is much more pressing.

What I’m most impressed by is the fact I’ve written so much without really trying. I haven’t been able to sit for long hours although I have been grabbing whatever minutes I can to carry on.

Obviously this stage is much more fun than editing and I know that soon – probably at the turn of the year – I will have to return to Choose Yr Future and take it on to the next stage.

The perfect implications of an imperfect world.

On By kepagewriterIn My Writing, Updates and information1 Comment

The recent edit of Choose Yr Future has seen some chapters disappear, some change and some needing to be written. When I first started writing some of the details of my future world weren’t as clear as they are now so obviously there have been some pretty big changes. For me, this is the one enjoyable thing to come out of editing. Until you read through the whole of your work, you don’t always realise you have been sidetracked. Sometimes the sidetrack becomes the main road. Sometimes you have to find a way back to the path you actually want to follow. But at the end, the destination should be clear.

One of the things that became clear to me was that while I was concerned about gender and sexuality issues, I hadn’t realised that I was writing about class so much. My future society is very much a class based world with no social mobility at all, apart from the lucky ones who get to win talent shows of one type or another. The sort of thing that gives the impression of mobility when in fact the majority of people are stuck with in the same place as they ever were; the same place where their parents were stuck; the same place their children will be stuck.

Of course, a lot of people believe that class divisions no longer matter and that social mobility is easier than it has ever been. And maybe that is true to an extent. After all, in my suburban house, with my job in education, I’d have a nerve to still call myself working class (although there is no doubt that I still do). If I had children, they would be born into a middle class world. But when a recent study showed that elite surnames still dominate in universities such as Oxford and Cambridge and that underlying social status is more strongly inherited than height, there may be not as much cause to celebrate as you might think. Maybe there is more movement in the middle but as soon as you start to move to the extreme of either end, it becomes more and more difficult to move upwards at one end, less and less likely that you will lose your privilege at the other.

As I have mentioned in an earlier blog, I am currently reading Margaret Atwood’s In Other Worlds. She discusses her own dystopian world and also the way that she feels that dystopia and utopia are not really the opposites we take them as but ever present within each other. I hadn’t thought about it before but it makes sense that if you create a perfect world then there must be the implication of an imperfect one and vice versa. What about the perfect world implied in my dystopic one? My future humans are caught up with voting on everything, they have no spare time as the government controls their every waking hour with work, exercise, recreation, and so on. They have health plans that they must keep to, they have roles that are chosen for them. They have a place in which they must stay, a time to get married, a time to have children. So I suppose my ideal world would be one where people were able and allowed to think for themselves, where they were given the freedom to be themselves and where you could actually choose your future.

 

 

 

Chrys Fey’s Writing Challenge Day 5 – Write about a dream or nightmare that you’ve had.

On By kepagewriterIn 30 Day Writing Challenge, My Writing1 Comment

Write about a dream or nightmare that you’ve had. Turn it into a short-short story – Day 5 of Chrys Fey’s 30 Day writing challenge.

I have a recurring dream / nightmare when I’m at a new school (which as I am a supply teacher, happens quite often) and I can’t find the classroom I am supposed to be in. This story is based on that.

How did I end up here? Outside? I don’t remember a door. I’m sure I didn’t go through a door. Ahead of me is only green field. I don’t recognise the view. In my head, I have a vision of the room where I should be, paper flying, noise levels rising as the kids realise there is no teacher. 

As I turn around in panic, I see the school buildings. Running towards them, my heart is pounding. They don’t seem to get any closer. And I am going as fast as I can. My legs are starting to hurt. My breath is coming short and fast. Why won’t the buildings get any closer. 

Suddenly I am inside. Now where is the map they gave me? I begin to pat my pockets. Calmly at first then when it does not appear, frantically, going through pockets again and again. The corridors peel off in different directions. Pick a corridor, any corridor. I shoot off to the left. 

Science. Turn left again. Maths. Right this time. Art. Running again. I pass classrooms for every subject. Food Technology. Drama. R.S. Does this school even have an English department.

And then suddenly, I see it. At the end of this corridor. In large golden letters. The word I have been searching for. English. My classroom must be along here. I look at the doors, 12, 13, 14, yes, 15. This is the one. 

Inside and the class quieten down expectantly. I stare at them in silent alarm. It is then I realise that I have left the work for them to do in the staff room. 

 

Chris Fey’s 30 day writing challenge Day 3 – if you could go on vacation anywhere in the world, where would you go.

On By kepagewriterIn 30 Day Writing Challenge, My Writing2 Comments

Day three of Chrys Fey’s 30 day writing challenge. This wasn’t an easy challenge for me. My writing tends to be quite internal- relating to thoughts and feelings – rather than description of external things. Even when I write third person, it tends to be from a character’s viewpoint so I don’t often write straight description but here goes….
I picked somewhere cold because the heat doesn’t really attract me. Even though the description isn’t particularly pleasant, I would really like to visit somewhere really cold.

The air was sharp, lethal almost. It managed to hurt, as if it were solid somehow. The effect on the body was instant. Eyes streaming and nostrils twitching, trying to retract. Ribs ached. If there were any fingers foolish enough not to ensconced in gloves, they were quickly attacked with vigour by the wind until they were red and numb, not to mention completely useless to their owner.
From the cliffs to the sea, there was a thick blanket of snow as yet untrodden. White so pure and clear that it hurt to look at it. Even with sunglasses, the glare was still painful. The light bounced back from the snow with a determination to blind. It was difficult to spot where the sea began from a distance.
The crunch of the snow under the first feet was the real start of winter. The innocence of the snow broken again by human feet. The foot slid through the deep snow so that it was more a foot hole than a foot print. The foot needed to be pulled out before the next one could be attempted. Progress to the water’s edge was slow. The trail of footprints stands out in the unblemished scene like a scar across the landscape. As if the snow was wounded.
At the water’s edge, the silence suddenly becomes apparent. If this was a summer’s day, there would be the waves lapping and the gulls shrieking but today, it is quiet. There is the occasional howl of wind and the odd creak as the ice stretches itself. Inhuman noises that suggested emptiness, cold, death even.

Chrys Fey’s 30 day Writing Challenge – Start a story with Once Upon a Time

On By kepagewriterIn 30 Day Writing Challenge, My Writing1 Comment

First off, before the story, an apology. As ever, life is hectic and when I posted that I was starting this challenge I really thought I’d be able to do it the next day. Due to circumstances beyond my control, it has taken over a week to get this to you. This is the first challenge of Chrys Fey’s 30 day writing challenge. Hopefully the next one will be quicker but on her website it does say that you don’t have to do one every day which, given my busy life, is just as well.

Start a story with Once Upon A Time. 

Once upon a time….

There was a princess called Lucinda that lived in a big castle. I know, that’s not unusual for princesses but she really didn’t like living there. It was dull and cold and too big. Sometimes she thought her entire family could leave and she wouldn’t even know. The worst thing about that was the fact that it wouldn’t surprise her if they did go. And it was likely they would leave her behind.

The castle had big towers that filled the princess with foreboding although she wasn’t sure why. She just knew that when she was on her way to princess school and she looked back; she shuddered involuntarily when she saw them. There was one at each corner, tall and proud with only the one window at the very top. She didn’t like them any better when she drove back from school and they seemed to stare down at her, one cold dark eye each. It made her skin cold all over.

The school wasn’t much better. It was grey and imposing with the same stark towers on the corners. Perhaps, she mused, they would be frightened into behaving as they were supposed to. It was true that no one seemed to step out of line so maybe it worked. They all trooped into the classroom and sat at their desks and learned the many things that princesses needed to now. Like how to be radiant. Or how to talk down to your subjects. The princess wanted to ask about the towers. Questions like why are they so tall. Questions like what happened at the top with the one eyelike window. Once you got in, she reasoned, you would not get out. But she didn’t ask. It was unspoken that the towers suggested punishment. And they were all good girls really. Even Princess Lucinda.

It was hard enough for Lucinda. She knew she didn’t really fit in. The other princesses were pink. They were flouncy. Lacy. Well, so was she. That was the uniform. But she didn’t like it. The dresses got in her way and when she sat down; they could always see her underclothes no matter how careful she was. She had failed that this year. Ladylike posture. It just didn’t come naturally. She looked on with envy as the others stuck their little fingers out when they picked up their cups and when they moved slowly and elegantly across the room in their sharp healed pointy shoes.  

Their hair was bouncy. Her hair refused to do that. She had asked to have it cut short but they would not let her. Instead, it tangled itself into knots or unravelled from however it was supposed to be. And she couldn’t stay clean. The other princesses sat and waited for things to be brought to them, for things to happen. She wanted to go and find things. Although most of the time, the only things that she found were dirt and the corners of tables that were intent on ripping skirts and tearing lace.

There was a lot at stake of course. If they didn’t pass all levels of princessing, then they’d never get a prince and go on to have lots of other little princes and princesses. The thought of marrying a prince filled Lucinda with nearly as much horror as the thought of the tower. What a choice! She supposed it would be different with real babies but when they had to practise with the dolls, well, she genuinely couldn’t see the point. All the others cooing and exclaiming and dressing the dolls up. She wasn’t sure what it was but there had to be something better than this.

So that is what they were doing, they were still waiting. For their prince to come. Lucinda sniggered but they were far too delicate to think such vulgar thoughts. They knew that you had to be to snag a prince and sniggering didn’t really figure. Probably, Lucinda reflected, it gave you wrinkles and that was tragedy beyond measure. They spent long hours shaping their nails and curling or straightening their hair depending on what the fashionistas said. Then there was the rubbing on of creams. She looked at them and thought how they all looked the same.

They all had that careful voice, as well, not too loud, not too quiet. The exact right tone. She couldn’t manage that either. Too loud. When she laughed, not only did it come out in guffaws but also her whole body joined in. They tittered carefully behind their hands when that happened although she had no doubt that nasty little thoughts existed behind those careful eyes. She almost hoped they did. At least that would make them interesting.

The princes were equally boring. All vying for position. All carefully styled, of course. Perfectly clothed. That was the problem. Nothing wrong with them. She was fed up with feeling less than perfect. They talked about themselves constantly. The whine of them contrasted horribly with the giggling from the princesses. They were all handsome and that struck Lucinda as odd. Surely they couldn’t all be. What happened if a less than perfect baby was born? Were they sent to some lesser family where it mattered less if you were beautiful? Another question she would never ask.

It was not like Lucinda to be early. Things eluded her. The things needed for school that day, for example. So often, they’d have to turn back and get a servant to run and find some book or other or some homework she had forgotten. Sometimes she’d realise that she had odd shoes on. This morning had run smoothly. She was the first one into their classroom. Or so she thought

She was trying to decide what to do with this small piece of freedom when she heard a noise from the cupboard at the back of the classroom. She knew what she was supposed to do. Scream and then run. Alert the nearest male. Lucinda had no intention of behaving in such a princessy way. How very tedious. She wasn’t frightened, she was intrigued. With a delicacy that usually eluded her, she moved quietly towards the cupboard. The noises – rustles and swishes – made her think of a small animal. No threat.

She paused briefly to make sure she was ready and then she yanked the door open. She couldn’t believe her eyes. One of the princes. In there, among their clothes. Lucinda tried to recall his name. She knew she had seen him before. With the others but they came as one mass. They were the princes. She didn’t try to pick them apart. Then she tried to recall what it was that was different about him. He was slim, slight. Probably the smallest of the princes. But it wasn’t that. It was something that she couldn’t quite place. A delicacy perhaps. It was hard to see him rescuing or duelling or any of those things the princes learned about. Lucinda realised that she quite liked that about him. That and the fact he looked more frightened of her than she felt of him.

“What are you doing in there?” She asked with as much authority as she could muster. There was a pause and Lucinda thought the prince might cry. That wasn’t allowed. Boys don’t cry. She was ready to put her arms around him though, if she should need to. But instead, he spoke. The same thing that Lucinda couldn’t quite grasp about his body was wrong with his voice. It was smooth and had none of the depth that the other princes aimed for. It was soft like silk. Lucinda felt it rub over her skin.

“I picked up my sister’s bag by mistake. I was just leaving it for her.” That sounded fair. Lucinda wished she had a brother that would be so helpful but they were all hateful.

“You probably should go.” He nodded his head. After all, the princes were not allowed in here and perhaps, he knew that the towers were for punishment as well. She couldn’t imagine that he found being a prince very straightforward.

As she watched him leave – his steps were small and dainty – she thought he moved more like one of them. More like a girl. She felt sorry for him. He was as out of place as she was. He turned just before he left. Smiled.

“My name is Sam.” He said. Samuel, thought Lucinda. She would not forget.

“Lucinda.” She hadn’t realised until that moment, how much she had hated her name. It was clunky and awkward. Well, it suited her; you had to agree with that.

Lucinda thought about Sam a lot. She called him the prince of the cupboard. In her head, anyway. For once, that lunchtime, she sat with the others while they giggled over their possible future husbands. Some of them had been promised to princes already. Providing they got the right grades at princessing, of course. Quietly, she asked if any of them knew anything about Sam. They seemed surprised to see her and hear her but they soon recovered.

“Trust you,” said Marianna, “To notice a fellow freak.” Lucinda realised that it was true. That was what was so similar about them. They were all wrong for the role. The others all laughed and she moved back to her lone seat. The prince of the cupboard was wrong in all the ways that made him right for her.

Weeks passed and Lucinda made an effort to make it into school early but she never saw the prince of the cupboard in their room again. It disappointed her every time. She began to think that she would never be able to speak to him again. Not that it would matter anyway. Not when she was going to fail her princessing exams. What happened then? No one wanted to say but she felt the presence of the tower whenever they spoke about it. A lot of good it would do her. Sam didn’t look like the rescuing type. She pictured herself looking out of that one window. That small square her only view.

It was soon to be the end of term ball. Lucinda always hated it. They didn’t pick her to dance. Or if they did, they didn’t do so again after she had trodden on them or elbowed them of in some way or other injured them. These days her reputation went before her so she stood on the sidelines and watched them glide effortlessly around the dance floor. She wished she had the grace to do so herself. It was a strange feeling, to want something she so thoroughly hated but it would be easier, fitting in. Easier than standing watching everyone else enjoying their life. Okay so they were thoughtless but maybe that was better.

This time she tried really hard to stay clean and tidy by sitting in one place before they had to leave and even her mother was impressed that she hadn’t managed to mess up her hair. She was wearing her best dress. (The most expensive one not the one she liked the best. She liked none of them but trousers were not allowed.) She wanted Sam to think she was beautiful. She assumed that he would like this perfect version. It was what all the princes wanted. That was the whole point.

So she giggled not sniggered. She wiggled not stomped. She hid her face behind her hand. She was that shy, sweet girl. A couple of the princesses asked if she was feeling okay. She said she was although it was a lie. She had never felt worse. She was pretending to be what they wanted her to be. What he wanted her to be. Not even that. What she thought he wanted her to be. It was difficult but he was the prize. It had to be worth it.

It was the opinion of the princes that the ball was really for the girls. They had to be there and they had to dance but it was not their thing. Jousting and archery and sports that was their thing. But they had to be impressive and to be impressive, you had to be there. So mostly, they came and stood and watched and decided who was the prettiest. They fought to be the one who danced with the prettiest. They looked at Lucinda and sniggered at the way she giggled, at the way she wiggled. She might be trying but she lacked grace. She lacked feminine charm. She was still a little scary. The princes were taught what the princesses would do and that was fine. None of them was really bright enough to work out someone who did not follow the pattern.

Sam watched her carefully. He patted down his own clothes. They would probably suit Lucinda as well. Maybe he should share with her the secret of his success. He supposed it was probably too late. Watching her, trying so hard, it was heart breaking and Sam knew his heart was already soft with feeling for her. He wasn’t sure what he should do.

She was more like him than she realised. He had to find some way of letting her know that. He thought he’d seen recognition in her eyes, that day she had caught him changing his clothes but she had easily bought the lie he told so maybe she was clueless. Maybe she thought him just like all the rest, hence the terrible trying to fit the role

He couldn’t remember the first time now. Just that it was a long time ago. Long enough that he had abandoned all thoughts of femininity. Even in his own head. Every time though, he felt that small thrill of it being right and proper even though everyone else thought it wrong. He had to be at school early to ensure no one saw him arrive, stay late so he could change again before home. Now, at home, in girl clothes, that was when it was odd and opposite.

“May I have this dance?” Sam looked up and there was Lucinda. His heart pounded unsteadily. She must have grown bored with waiting. Sam had decided that there would be no dancing for him tonight. He was too small and too nervous and he feared whoever he chose would just laugh. He grinned at the way everyone was staring. He hadn’t been concentrating or he would have seen the entire hall come to a stop.

“Of course.” He said, taking her hand. She let her hand sit on Sam’s waist, gently ran her hand over the hip. She noted the curve and nodded.

“You’re just like me.” She said. “Just like me.” She emphasized each word and Sam was glad she had figured it out.

“Do you think we’ll be able to live happily ever after?” She asked. Nobody else seemed to have figured it out and as far as she could tell, no one else wanted either of them. Her own mother would be pleased just to see her married.

“Oh, I think so.” Sam said grinning. They were floating across the dance floor now and much to everyone’s amazement, they moved well. They fitted together. Lucinda grinned as well. She was thinking about the lack of towers in the future and how it pleased her immensely.

30 day writing challenge

On By kepagewriterIn 30 Day Writing Challenge, My Writing2 Comments

As I have definitely finished the Eclectic Reader Challenge and I am not about to try and read another twelve books in the next 3 months, I thought I’d try and find a new blogging challenge.
I really wanted it to be a writing challenge. I’m still in the throws of editing Choose Yr Future and so I am not writing much new stuff. I must admit that this is starting to get on my nerves. Not that I want to start a new big project until Choose Yr Future is in a better state but I did want to be writing something.

I started by following some of the challenges on Readwave which is a great site for sharing writing and reading great stories. The challenges are fun and short and encourage you to write in different styles. The most recent story How To Murder Your Partner and Get Away With It made the staff picks section so that was pleasing.

Then I happened upon the 30 day writing challenge on Chrys Fey’s excellent website and it seemed perfect. Small challenges that give me something specific to think about and help flex your writing muscles a bit.

Here is the list of the challenges. First one to follow in the next couple of days.

1. Start a piece with: “Once upon a time…”
2.  Open a book at random and pick a line. Use that line as the beginning of your piece and continue writing from where it leaves off. Pen the first thoughts that come to mind and don’t revise it.
3.  If you could go on a vacation anywhere in the world, where would you go? Use vivid details and prose to describe the experience you would like to have.
4.  Create a character off the top of your head and write a short history about him/her.
5.   Write about a dream or nightmare that you’ve had. Turn it into a short-short story.
6.   Start a piece with: “I am standing at my kitchen window…” (Be creative! Make the piece fit a specific genre such as mystery, horror, romance, etc.)
7.   What is your favorite season? Use vivid details and even include memories you have of that season.
8.   Pick the title of one of your favorite songs and write a piece about it. Give the lyrics meaning by creating a story for it.
9.  You’re sitting in a coffee shop when you look up and see _______. Write a fictional piece about what would happen if you saw a celebrity in a coffee shop. (Humorous/suspenseful)
10.  Find something that you wrote a long time ago (published or unpublished) and rewrite the beginning. Give it a different tone.
11.   Write a short nonfiction piece about your first job.
12. Turn someone you know and love into a character. Write about them. Give them a fictional life.
13.   Describe your dream home as if you are living in it now.
14.   Recreate the sentence: “It was a dark and stormy night.” Expand it into a paragraph or two if you are so moved.
15.   Write about a memory from your childhood. Good or bad. Give it new life and  insight.
16.   The next time you are eating, write about the food on your plate or in your bowl. Describe every  portion. And as you are eating, write about all the tastes on your tongue.
17.   What is your favorite holiday? Write a short-short about a character experiencing that holiday and everything you associate with it.
18.   Think of your favorite book growing up. Use the title as inspiration for your next piece. What do you imagine when you read that title? Write a poem or a paragraph.
19.   What were you like as a child? Describe little you as you would a character in a book.
20.   What is your sun sign? (Gemini, Virgo) Use your sign as inspiration for a character  (protagonist or antagonist) or setting (world or made-up town).
21.   Go outside. Sit on the porch, in the garden, or at the beach, and write about nature.
22.   Create a past life for yourself. Who were you? What did you do?
23.   Write a journal entry for your favorite fictional character.
24.   If you went on a road trip or cruise, describe the experience you would like to have and places you’d like to see.
25.   Theme: Water (Write anything that comes to mind involving water.)
26.   What do you imagine the future will be like? Write a short science fiction piece.
27.  What is your favorite fairy tale? Give it a new ending.
28.    What are you like now? Describe yourself as if you were a character in one of your books.
29.   End a piece with: “But that wasn’t the end.”
30.   Write a letter to your muse. (Dear Muse,)