Random lines are some of the best lines I hear all day, especially when I can take them out of context and apply a metric ton of imagination. Here’s one I just heard for your new writing prompt enjoyment.
One kick at the can.
Bonus points for including the words: origin, kerfuffle, scorch
Important: Bonus points are not valid in exchange for anything here. They exist solely so you can feel even better about that magnificent piece of writing you produce.
I confess: I’m notorious for not following my own self-care advice. So I doomscrolled a wee bit today and now I’m a wee bit depressed by the news, which is (as we all know) sad sad sad sad. Which has left me wondering if there’s any good news out there? So I found some good news in the form of a dog surviving in the woods and while many people find solace in this kind of story, my brain zeroes in on the fact that dog needed to survive in the first place.
Not helpful, brain. Whose side are you even on? I’m your house; remember that.
Yes, I have a point. Namely, today’s writing prompt.
Write the good news story you most want to read right now.
Share in the comments if you’d like. But even if you choose not (and that’s okay, no pressure), I hope you feel better. I’m going to go pet my cat because I know she doesn’t need saving. Even if she’d like to dispute that sometimes.
Um…yeah…. it’s been a while. Too long. Because life, you know? Life happens. And a lot of life has happened since I stepped away from my blog. A few weeks ago, something happened (and is still happening) to me that has shown me how much I need to write just for the fun of it. I’ve been writing in journals; nothing I’ll share online, but I’ve still been writing.
Now it’s time to get my online writing groove back. If you need to write, too, I hope this writing prompt helps.
Why is your neighbor planting a tree in his backyard at midnight?
Share your result below. Or keep it in your journal.
P.S. I actually have a neighbor who works on his backyard garden at all hours; literally. He’s a very nice person.
I don’t know anyone who thinks they’re “normal.” Which makes sense because we all know our own flaws better than anyone else, so we disqualify ourselves from being “normal” faster than anyone else will.
Or maybe I hang out with the wrong people? What is normal, anyway?
writing prompt: Define normal.
Finish the following story. Bonus points if the barista makes it out alive and non-lupine.
“Fuck my life!”
The barista was having a meltdown, and I was the one taking the heat. At five in the morning. On my way to move to a new city, a new life, a new identity. And there I stood, in the middle of nowhere, being yelled at by a barista, and a hung over one by the looks of it.
All because I didn’t want foam on my latte. Pardon me, I can’t digest that foam.
People often thing that werewolves only show their furry sides during a full moon. Those people are wrong. This werewolf was ready to fluff and bare teeth over being yelled at for no damn good reason.
The silence between us was as solid as the counter that separated us.
Time stretched. And so did my muzzle.