two prompts

Re-write a classic fairy tale: either by changing something that happens in the plot to make it have a not-so-happily-ever-after ending or by writing the story from another character's perspective. Or write your own fairy tale: it can be like a classic or totally different with some weird twists.

OR

Bust out your dictionary, and randomly pick ten or so words that you find really interesting, fun to say, or that you don't even know what they mean; use them to write a poem.

Prompt :D

Write about the origin of your name.

because i'm bored, i'm starting us off.

i just realized that no one gave a prompt to start us off for the week. i'm having one of those days where i want to write. so i googled (well, actually ask.commed) writing prompts and stumbled upon this one. i like it, but i'm personally going to have to think on it before proceeding. enjoy!


Write a short story based on a favorite song, using the song’s title as your story’s title and the lyrics for your plot.

maybe i'll even list you all as editors. :)

nate hulne is graciously creating a new coffee shop website for me. i'm working on some content for the pages, and i just took all of two minutes to write up a history of the business. i know that it needs some work (which is why i'm not sending it to him yet), and i'd love to get some feedback. i know so far we've mostly just been patting each other on the back and giving words of encouragement (which, p.s., has been good for my writing ego), but i'm actually asking for some critisism on this one. and it won't even hurt my feelings because i haven't even read through what i just wrote. (see how that means i can take less offense? because it all makes sense in my head!) so have at it....


Once upon a time, a girl in her late teens semi-flippantly said she would one day like to own a coffee shop. But then she went on to college, got her four year degree in English, and landed a fabulous part-time job at a library. After a few months, she began to feel a burning desire to do something more with her life. The idea of a coffee shop seemed the perfect amount of ambitious and fun. With the support of her husband, family, and friends, she decided to move forth with the plan.

The Altoona Pub was purchased, and months of renovation began. Coffee equipment was bought, paint was painted, and the girl realized she better quickly learn a thing or two about espresso. (Her palette had long ago been trained to taste a good drink, but she didn’t actually know how to MAKE one!) She happened upon Carl at The Coffee Barn (ß a link here would be fabulous!), ordered some flavoring, decided on a name (thanks to her big brother, Brad), and soon after the doors opened. (Well, some of the more boring details have been left out, but you get the picture.) Ever since that wonderful day in June of 2004, Being There Coffee House has been making Altoona-ites and anyone else who graces it’s door very, very satisfied coffee drinkers.

Keys

On my first visit to New Orleans, I found a key. Wandering the French Quarter, it's easy to believe in adventure and hard to believe in coincidence. The stately homes belie history, power, and influence, while the seedier taverns and alleys remind passersby of darker elements of society. An unknown key represents drama, mystery, intrigue, all heightened by its discovery in a troubled historic city. Picking up the key, I expected to be swept into a world of locked doors concealing dark family secrets, fantastic wealth, and troubled romance.

Of course, only in fiction will a key lying on the ground in a distant city ever open anything. Discoveries might feel like opportunity, even fate, but the universe never delivered me a grand plantation mansion with a shadowy back room that remained locked until my arrival with a mysterious key. (Because what was I doing there? How, exactly, would my slide into this world begin?)

Keys are one of the most symbolic objects in literature - they represent knowledge (or more often, the phallus). A key never shows up by mistake in a story. I chose to believe that life would imitate art, but out here in daily Midwestern life, it seems a key is just a key.

i'm a few prompts behind.

i told krystal that i was going to preface some of what i write with something like this, and it's more for my benefit than yours. so just fyi, i've put little thought and no editing into this piece, AND i'm only sharing it because i feel like i need to force myself to not be so uptight about sharing my writing. :) and after that uplifting intro, here you go....



i am the black cord stilly slithering in a bed of green blades.
without me
this show is nothing but an acoustic whisper
in a sea of drunken unappreciatives.
i am the aorta to the heart of the city of speakers.
i am largely unnoticed and ignored.
i'm only touched by the roadies
who ignore my scuffs and stickiness as they unwind me and
leave me to inconspiculously do my job.
my secret power is masked in rubbery darkness.
i am a musical super hero.

Titles get in the way.

It is 1:02 am, and I wrote this about five minutes ago :D

I saw the psychic
she was large
in 80s style dress
prancing around the room
loving the small town feel
a mistress on a mission
to see the future
and give a boost, to us
the iowa day dreamer star gazing thunderstorm loving youth
her thunder roared the loudest
and shook the hills of barstool laughter
as she looked at me and laughed
saying "honey, honey
repeat after me"