Announcements: Introducing INK, the Writer's Currency » RPG's New Design Team » Now Open: RPG Staff Applications » 10 Years of RPG: Share Your Story » Can't Send PMs? Need Your 10-Forum Posts NOW? » A (Friendly) Reminder to All Romance RPers. » The Newbie's Guide to RolePlayGateway: Read This First! »

Writing group prompts

a topic in Growth, a part of the RPG forum.

Moderator: Scholars

New to the literary world? Just want to improve on your already strong literary background? Get tips on your language skills here.

Writing group prompts

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Thu Oct 05, 2006 6:02 pm

I attend a writing group that meets twice a month. I forget to go most of the time, but I remembered today. We are usually given a writing prompt. Today, we were given two. This first story was written off the first image the prompt gave me. I'll put the prompt at the end of the story. I edited it a little, because I hadn't gone as in-depth as I wanted for the last half since a warning was called, and I hadn't even gotten to finish the sentence I was on.

He holds the door open for her as she gets into her car, before walking around to the passenger's seat. Will I ever get used to that? What surprised her most was that she wanted to. The distinctive smell of his cologne mixed with the cigarette he had finished moments ago washed over her. He gives her directions as they drive, refusing to tell her where they are going, laughing at her attemps to guess. He deflects the speculations with questions and comments, enjoying making her blush and laugh.

They park in at a strip mall, and he stops her from opening her door, insisting on opening it for her again. He leads her past the mall to a small restaurant, where they are greeted and seated on a terrace. They finish their orderves before he gets down on one knee. Crying, she nods, unable to speak through her tears, but he insists she say it out loud. He wants to hear her say it with her voice.

She never knew where in his body her fiance had been shot. One minute he is slipping the ring on her finger, the next the ring stays in his hand as it falls to the ground. Belatedly, she heard the gunshot. The waitress comes up to her while she's still in shock to tell her that the ambulence is on its way. Kneeling beside him, she kisses his mouth, then takes the ring and puts it on her finger. "Yes."

The prompt for that one was "She never knew where in her body her husband had been shot. We were told we could change it, and when I changed "husband" to "fiance", I got the picture of the ring slipping off her finger.

This second one I haven't edited at all. The prompt was from a children's book: "Orville lay in the shade and ate his food and slept and dreamed." I based the story off my main chat rp character.


It was a hot day, and no breeze cooled the traveler as she climbed to the top of the hill. She stops under a tree. After glancing at the sun, she looks around and sees no one. Sitting cross-legged, she pulls out a bag of trail mix and another of jerky. After taking one piece of jerky and replacing the rest, Miyumi lay in the shade and ate and slept and dreamed.

In her dreams, she was blind, and could not see the sun or birds. But she could feel them. She could feel the incredible heat of the sun beating down on her, and hear the flutter of the bluebird she hadn't even noticed in the tree above her. And she could hear, the rustle of grass as a mouse searched for acorns, an ant crawling up the tree in search of berries. She could smell, the scent of the leaves still alive on the tree, the odour of all the animals around her. As she reveled in this new perspective, a shadow fell over her. She woke to find the man she was waiting for standing over her.

"I see!"

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
miyumi
Member for 13 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Circ on Mon Nov 20, 2006 10:31 am

Congratulations

I liked the strange combination of jerky and waking up to find a lover. For some reason, that seemed very raw and, I dare say, Freudian. The jerky could easily symbolise something rather erotic. ;]

Typographic

There are a few typos, but forgivable as even if you /had/ searched for the appropriate spelling, phonetically-speaking, you would never have gotten the correct result back.

You want: hors d'oeuvre.

Just remember that it looks like horse ovaries; a nice old lady I use to work with gave me that mnemonic.

Stylistic

Also, be on the lookout for staying in the same tense. This is something a lot of writers, myself included, have difficulty with. As an example, in one sentence you have "no breeze cooled the traveler", and subsequent, "she stops," and later on, "and dreamed."

Caution

Be on the lookout for cliche. When it comes to romance, I find myself constantly bumping into cigarette smoke and cologne; very Harlequin and, I think, distasteful as we now live in a society that acknowledges tobacco products are not only unhealthy but crude.

Not every romance takes place in Paris, 1943.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Circ
Member for 12 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Contributor

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Mon Nov 20, 2006 2:47 pm

Circ,

thank you for the comments. Just two little things: who ever said that the man the woman was waiting for under the tree was a lover? I never mentioned a relation. Feel free to think that if you'd like, but please don't criticize or congratulate me for the things you added on your own.

The cliche, well, the guy in the story was actually modelled after a guy I know, so those smells are entirely appropriate. Maybe throw in the animal smell associated as well?

Thanks for the help with the hors d'oeuvres. I do think that mnemonic will be absolutely useless for my style of thinking, maybe it can help someone else.

Also thank you for pointing out the tense problems. I tend to write in the past tense, but the tense given in the prompt was all wrong and kept throwing me off. As I said, I had a time limit while writing it, and I didn't edit that one at all before throwing it up here. It was actually a struggle not to fix the tenses, as that is what I've been doing for a friend I've been editing for since the begining of last school year.

SO:

He holds the door open for her as she gets into her car, before walking around to the passenger's seat. Will I ever get used to that? What surprised her most was that she wanted to. The distinctive smell of his cologne mixed with the cigarette he had finished moments ago and the smells of the numerous animals in his house washed over her as he slid into the seat next to her. He gives her directions as they drive, refusing to tell her where they are going, laughing at her attemps to guess. He deflects the speculations with questions and comments, enjoying making her blush and laugh.

They park in at a strip mall, and he stops her from opening her door, insisting on opening it for her again. He leads her past the mall to a small restaurant, where they are greeted and seated on a terrace. They finish their hors d'oeuvre before he gets down on one knee. Crying, she nods, unable to speak through her tears, but he insists she say it out loud. He wants to hear her say it with her voice.

She never knew where in his body her fiance had been shot. One minute he is slipping the ring on her finger, the next his hand falls to the ground taking the ring with it. Belatedly, she heard the gunshot. The waitress comes up to her while she's still in shock to tell her that the ambulence is on its way. Kneeling beside him, she kisses his mouth, then takes the ring and puts it on her finger. "Yes."

--------------------------

It was a hot day, and no breeze cooled the traveler as she climbed to the top of the hill. She stopped under a tree. After glancing at the sun, she looked around, but saw no one. Sitting cross-legged, she pulled out a bag of trail mix and another of jerky. After taking one piece of jerky and replacing the rest, Miyumi lay in the shade and ate and slept and dreamed.

In her dreams, she was blind, and could not see the sun or birds. But she could feel them. She could feel the incredible heat of the sun beating down on her, and feel the wind made as the bluebird she hadn't even noticed fluttered its wings in a branch above her. And she could hear, the rustle of grass as a mouse searched for acorns, an ant crawling up the tree in search of berries. She could smell, the scent of the leaves still alive on the tree, the odour of all the animals around her. As she reveled in this new perspective, a shadow fell over her. She woke to find the man she was waiting for standing over her.

"I see!"

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
miyumi
Member for 13 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Circ on Mon Nov 20, 2006 5:11 pm

You're right. It wasn't a lover. I suppose the first prompt had my mind in that zone for some reason, or I just blended them together subconsciously.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Circ
Member for 12 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Contributor

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Grimbold Theoman on Tue Nov 21, 2006 10:42 am

It is surprising how easy it is to mix up things that you read with other things read, or with real life. That is my favourite, to read what is written and in the case of the last short piece the lover was not what I thought of, at least until Circ said that. I wonder if Circ is caught up on the cliche they warned you to avoid?

It is a difficult thing to write quickly to a que like that and given that it can take me hours to cobble together some of the short posts I make when I write creatively on here a challenge that I intend not to rise to at the moment. I was impressed with what you came up with quickly.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Grimbold Theoman
GWC Veteran
Member for 12 years
Progenitor Conversation Starter Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Tue Nov 21, 2006 11:16 am

Thank you Grimbold. We were given a minute or two to think about where we wanted to go with it before we started writing, and we were allowed to use any written medium. I chose story because I'm so used to coming up with posts for the forum. :D

Actually, I can very well forgive him for having the idea that Miyumi was waiting for a lover. A meeting under a tree? She looks around to see if anyone's there? But then, it is broad daylight. At the time I wrote it, I was thinking of him more as a teacher than a lover... I have thought of expanding either one. I do know that if I were to expand them, I would never reveal whether or not the man in the first one lives, since it was not given to me to know.

Also, if anyone else wishes to expand on/pyrate the first one, fell free to do so.

I wish I knew what I did with the thing I wrote at the end of last year.... I came up with a writing prompt for the group, a goldfish in a tree. I wrote a poem about a tree that grew goldfish as in the snackfood. I just remember the last two lines: If a tree grew a goldfish, wouldn't a goldfish grow a tree?

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
miyumi
Member for 13 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Dovey on Tue Nov 21, 2006 1:49 pm

Regarding your latest draft with the addition of "the smells of the numerous animals in his house," the insertion of that line is very out of place. It seems to be hastily added in order to address Circ's problem with the cliches. It would leave the reader less confused if you explained it within the piece. I would love to see how you would remediate it without simply deleting it.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Dovey
Member for 12 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Circ on Tue Nov 21, 2006 8:23 pm

I can't say I've been in a position to write prompts, but for spur-of-the-moment writing you do yourself proud. As to Dovey's concern about the animals seeming out of place, perhaps if it were just a bit more specific. Details add value to a character. However, this does beg the question: does the man watch dog sit, own a pet store, or is like those crazy people you hear about on the news with two-bedroom apartment and 32 cats?

I don't mean to say the responses lacked detail. They were full of good writing. Still, sometimes it is important as to what the detail is. Does he smoke Irish Cloves or Marlboro? Are they even his cigarettes, or did he grow up with a father who always smoked, and now lets him live with him? Being specific in that way would break up the cliché all by itself.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Circ
Member for 12 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Contributor

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Tue Nov 21, 2006 11:10 pm

Um, first of all, I did say "the cigarette he had finished moments ago"....

I shall look into fixing that up, but if I do go into more detail there, the only thing that will make it not seem out of place is by going into detail in other areas.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
miyumi
Member for 13 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Wed Nov 22, 2006 7:46 pm

He holds the door open for her as she gets into her car, before walking around to the passenger's seat. Will I ever get used to that? What surprised her most was that she wanted to. As he slides into the seat next to her, the smells of her car are muted by the distinctive mix she had come to associate with him; his cologne, the cigarette he had finished moments before entering the car, and the various animals that inhabited his house with him. He gives her directions as they drive, refusing to tell her where they are going, laughing at her attemps to guess. He deflects the speculations with questions and comments, enjoying making her blush and laugh.

They park at a strip mall, and he stops her from opening her door, insisting on opening it for her again. He leads her past the mall to a small restaurant, where they are greeted by a lady wearing a violet evening gown. The lady seats them on the terrace, where she notes the complete absence of birds. They finish their hors d'oeuvres before he gets down on one knee, pulling the ring out of his pocket. Crying with happiness, she nods, unable to speak through her tears, but he insists she say it out loud. He wants to hear her say it with the sweet voice he loves so much.

She never knew where in his body her fiance had been shot. One minute he is slipping the ring on her finger, the next his hand falls to the ground taking the ring with it. Belatedly, she hears the gunshot as she bends towards his body. The black of his suits hides any blood that might have told her where the bullet hit. As she searches for a pulse, the lady who had greeted them approaches to tell her that the ambulance is on its way. Ignoring the lady, she kneels beside him, kissing his mouth. The wail of sirens approaches as her hand finds his, and she takes the ring and puts it on her finger. "Yes."

If I expand anything else anywhere else, it will become artificial, and the "yes", instead of being accented, will not fit.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
miyumi
Member for 13 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Fri Jan 05, 2007 10:58 pm

It's been awhile, but I actually managed to go to a session of the writing group... Anyway, we did a prompt, work-shopped a prose-poem one of the girls had written, then talked about conflict, were given a scenario to try to discover the conflict in, then given another writing prompt. Just so you know, I didn't finish my whole idea for the first prompt. Here they are in order:

"How have you learned so much about the history of this place?"


I walk through seemingly endless hallways. Each room holds a different story, a different personality. One is a foresty sort of green, with another being a spring-time green, and a third still being a pond green. I can guess at countless untold stores that took place within the walls of these rooms. How can anyone learn all there is to know about the history of this place? Every new room brings new questions. Did a queen sleep in this one? This looks like a servant's room Was this the kitchen, or just a storeroom for old cooking equipment? The silence fills the air, until faint whispers are heard, and before my eyes, the ghosts of a story start to form and move.

A cook bustles about the kitchen, doing everything in her power to get the feast ready. Twenty girls sleep in those rooms, princesses all, wanting a share in the vision of the prince who is to inherit this place. Backbiting, smiles, rumors, lies, trickery; through it all only a few maintain their integrity. Those few are invited to stay, the rest angrily leave, storming out, plotting revenge. I do not want to see the rest, but the ghosts don't leave me alone. one girl is chosen, the others have suitors seeking their hands. I follow the procession of happy couples, through the Great Hall, out the gate. My mind is whisked and pulled as they disappear into the forest. I hurry back through the castle, knowing I am playing the part of the one who was chosen. I run up the tower stairs,

Yeah, I know, ending mid-sentence. but it's good, because this way, the next time I read it, I'll want to finish it. I can't stand leaving things unfinished. I may just put the rest of my idea here... we wrote on that for about ten minutes, but it took me awhile of moving between ideas before I struck the right one. Anyway, here's the scenario:

A mother and a daughter, with two suitcases in the back seat.


-The mother and daughter are running away from the abusive husband.
- The mother is taking her daughter someplace the daughter doesn't want to go
-boarding school
-college
-cheerleading
-The mother is taking her daughter someplace the mother doesn't want her to go
-college
-the army
-The daughter is taking the mother to a nursing home
-The suitcases hold money
-They robbed a place, and are running from the cops
-They only appear to be mother and daughter
-One of the bags holds a body
-The other holds the money they were given to kill the body
-The other holds what they needed to make the kill/escape

Remember, the idea was to create conflict. Any scenario can be used, looking for anything you want. And the last writing prompt:

"Even a killer might have qualms about burying a man still alive"


The wooden sound of pounding filled the night air as the men dropped the box into the ground. One of the two men paused before hesitantly picking up his shovel.

"What's the matter?"
"He's still alive."
"He killed your wife and sister."
"He's still fighting."
"Dude, he burried your daughter like this, we know he did. Remember the coffin?"
"Well, he knew I shot his wife, and he couldn't prove it in court."
"He still shouldn't have gone after the other two."

The man who was hesitating looked at his best friend and brother-in-law. "Can't we just do it cleanly?"
"You've murdered how many people for your paychecks?"
"Even a killer can have qualms about burying a live man Just let me open the lid and shoot him first."

The eager one sighed, and nodded. The lid was opened, a shot rang out, followed by a grunt and a thud. Deep in the woods, a box was buried, and a madman walked away, sane now that the revenge for his wife was complete.

Needless to say, all the responses to that last one were pretty morbid.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
miyumi
Member for 13 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Thu Apr 19, 2007 11:26 pm

It has been a very long time since I was last at a meeting of the writing group. But, I managed to get there today. So, two prompts again. And, keep in mind, I haven't done a timed writing in a dang long time. And, as usual, this is completely unedited.

Look here Vita, throw over your man!

She was in his apartment. They had been introduced by a mutual friend two months ago, and she was already visiting him him alone. He grinned at her, having just made a new high score on his favorite pinball game, and she smiled back. A tinkling of glass and they both move towards the kitchen where a man is climbing through the broken window. Ignoring the cuts, he swings a baseball bat, coming in contact with Bob's head. Vita catches him as he falls, and the stranger looks at her.

"Give me your wallet," comes from behind the ski mask. She just stares at the fallen one, the one she's had a crush on the day she met him. Suddenly, she glares at the robber in shock as he moves towards her.

"Did you not hear me?" She backs away, but takes out her wallet, but the man refuses to come close to take it. On opposite sides of the body, the robber yells at her. "Look her Vita, just throw it over you man!"

She's so startled by the robber knowing her name that

Obviously, I didn't finish this one. The second one, it isn't so obvious, but I didn't finish it either

I felt my throat tighten a little.

In a daze, I reach the place Fancy people in fancy clothes tell me where to stand, when to walk, where to walk, where to wait. Throngs of people pass, stop, stare, pass, hum. Finally, my shoes clicking on the wooden floor, the soft lights are revealed for a moment. I see their faces, and I can hear them breathe. Picking up the microphone, I wait half a beat. I feel my throat tighten a little as I raise my voice to the rafters.

Little sounds through the audience as I sing. A baby cries during the high notes in the fourth phrasing. There are coughings at every rest. Someone sneezes during a low melody. One person snores.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
miyumi
Member for 13 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Thu Apr 19, 2007 11:26 pm

Okay, so, here they are, minor edits and finished.

She was in his apartment. They had been introduced by a mutual friend two months ago, and she was already visiting him alone. They didn't do anything most people would expect from that, just kinda hung out. He grinned at her from the couch, having just created a new high score on his favorite pinball simulator. As she grins back, they heard a tinkling of glass from the kitchen. Bob jumped over the couch, and they both turned to see a man climbing in through the window. Vita and Bob both rush towards the man, who raised a baseball bat and smashed it into the closest head. Vita caught Bob as he fell to the ground, and shaking, she stared in shock at the robber.

"Give me your wallet," came from behind the ski mask, sunglasses, and scarf. Vita stared down at Bob. Finding his pulse steady, she backed up as the robber got closer, raising the bat as if to swing.

"Did you hear what I said? Give me your fucking wallet." Vita continued to back up, the robber seeming reluctant to get near Bob, the man she had a crush on since the first day they met. She pulled the wallet out, and stares at him.

"Look here Vita, just throw it over your man!"

Startled by the fact that the robber knew her name, she threw him the wallet and took out her phone, holding her breath and wishing he would leave. The robber raised the bat again, threatening Bob.

"If you dare call before I'm out the window, your boyfriend is dead meat."

She ground her teeth at the way he sneered the word boyfriend, but didn't move to open her cell phone. The robber went back out the way he had come, and she called right away.

"Hello, I've just almost been robbed, and my friend is lying on the floor..."

Now, as she calmly talked to the people at 911, she thought what she had not even dared to think while the robber was still there. 'He took the dummy!'

***

Street after street. Building after building. There it is! In a daze, I reach the place I had been told to go. Fancy people in fancy clothes tell me what do do: where to stand, when to walk, where to walk, where to wait. Throngs of people pass. Face after face. Voice after voice. They pass, stop, stare, pass, hum. Finally, I pass by dark walls to a dark, velvety feeling place. Shoes clicking on the wooden floor, I take my place in the center. I watch the soft light appear, sliver by sliver. For just a minute, I can see their faces, no longer a blur. Then I am blinded by the spotlight as I take the microphone. Pausing for half a beat, I raise my voice to the rafters.

I can hear little sounds throughout the audience as I begin. Coughing during any rest in the a cappella intro. A baby cries during a higher note in the fourth phrase. Someone sneezes just before the violins start. Smooth, sweet violin sounds. I sing with a little more feeling. They are joined by the other instruments, one by one. I fall back, and the play begins for real. Looking out, I can see one person snoring. Lights and sounds and colors abound. All too soon, we take our bows and leave off stage. Person after person. Signature after Signature. All of them enthralled with me. All of them wanting to know things. Their voices hum, they are probably excited, but all I hear is the play. Tomorrow, we do this again. And again. And again. Time after time. Night after night. I thought singing for the masses was a dream; now I know it's the only reality there is.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
miyumi
Member for 13 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Circ on Sun May 06, 2007 9:38 am

Miyumi, is this any different from the other thread, "Writing Prompts"? Should the topics be merged (if possible)?

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Circ
Member for 12 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Contributor

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Sun May 06, 2007 10:30 am

This is very different Circ. This thread only contains prompts from the Writing Group that I go to. I also edit the works in this thread, so they get posted two and three times. In the writing prompt thread, any edits are done with the edit button, not by reposting.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
miyumi
Member for 13 years
Conversation Starter Author Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings


Post a reply

RolePlayGateway is a site built by a couple roleplayers who wanted to give a little something back to the roleplay community. The site has no intention of earning any profit, and is paid for out of their own pockets.

If you appreciate what they do, feel free to donate your spare change to help feed them on the weekends. After selecting the amount you want to donate from the menu, you can continue by clicking on PayPal logo.

 

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests