Writing Prompts #1

These prompts were from an early meeting of my writing group.  These are unedited (other than for spelling errors and the occasional comma misuse) and presented in their entirety.  Some prompts may seem unfinished–we, for the most part, write under a time limit, and when time is called, you can finish your sentence but no more.


Prompt #1:

Three Smells you Love

Three Smells you Hate

I love the smell of the Schwebel’s factory.  I love that drive home from Chapel Hill–I get to pass it and I always inhale deeply.  I love the smell of crock-pot cooking–the homey aroma of a one dish meal that is waiting at the end of a long day.  I love the smell of fresh cut pumpkins and the memories of Halloween they evoke.

I hate the smell of my basement.  It’s not waterproof and very mildewy.  I hate the smell of garbage left one day too long, especially if I can’t tell exactly what is causing the smell.  I hate the smell of curry, to the point my husband is not allowed to bring it home or cook it when I’m around.

Prompt #2:

?? (I didn’t write it down)

The first time I wore a dance costume I was 7 years old.  We were ponies in the circus, that year’s recital theme.  It was my, and the studio’s, first recital, and I can remember being so excited, because our little white leotards were adorned with short white skirts, and to my ultimate delight, a tail.  I pranced around the house for days, bothering my mom, wanting to wear the headpiece and the tail.  Unfortunately my mom was too smart for me and hid them in her closet out of reach of my 7-year-old self.


Prompt #3

A Gate to Nowhere

I looked at the gate in front of me.  It barred my path forward, just a small, white washed collection of weathered boards across the wide, packed dirt path.  It was just the gate–the fence, I f there had ever been one, had long ago rotted away.  Beyond the gate, I could see the parking lot where I’d parked my car, but something made me stop and stare at the odd anomaly of a gate where one shouldn’t be.

My husband walked up behind me and gave me a shove.  “Just walk around it,” he said, but I continued to stare at the gate, not knowing why I couldn’t do as he said.  It was after all, just a gate and not some earth shattering metaphor I could not figure out the meaning of.

Published in: on June 25, 2012 at 9:16 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,

The URI to TrackBack this entry is: https://callusedfingers.wordpress.com/2012/06/25/writing-prompts-1-5-2/trackback/

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Add to the flood

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: