Writing Prompts

Writing prompts are good as a warm up and get the creative juices flowing, when you are stuck to help you work through writer’s block, or when you are short of time but want to do some writing for the day.


Pick any of the following and write for at least 10 minutes:

  • Lover’s bed
  • Brush with danger
  • Dieting
  • Celebrity
  • Undeveloped film
  • Sibling rivalry
  • Invade
  • Virus


Don’t think too much, just write – stream-of-consciousness style. Don’t stop to fix errors or edit each sentence, just write for 10 minutes, as much time as you have, or as long as it takes. The idea is not to write a perfect piece, but simply to write. Sometimes your best ideas are found this way!


Here’s my response to one of the above writing prompts:



It should have been simple. A trade, a swap. My bag of money, his memory stick. Straight forward. No complications.

We were lost in each. No longer aware of the motion of the ferris-wheel, the sounds of excitement and business below, the perfect backdrop of stars. No longer aware of time and loyalties, dualities, sides. No longer aware of greed or money. The ferris-wheel shuddered as we neared the top of its endless circling.

Conscious of him looking at me, conscious of the weight of the backpack over my shoulders. He slipped into business mode.

“Let’s get this over with,” he stated calmly.

I brushed his haste away, “Beautiful night, no need to hurry.”

I took a seat beside him, put my arm over his shoulder and pointed out Sirius, the dog star.

“How do I know that’s Sirius? You could tell me anything,” he looked at me curiously.

Something in his eyes captured me. “That’s the beauty of a meeting like this, isn’t it? We could tell each other anything. For this ride, let’s just pretend that we are not strangers.”

I think I expected him to laugh and coldly demand business be conducted so he could be promptly on his way. But he didn’t. He took my hand and kissed my neck. Like lovers meeting at the end of their separate days. There were no words. We faced each other, discovered the intricacies of each other’s features, we ran our fingers through each other’s hair, and we kissed. Time and place dissolved.

Eventually, the ferris-wheel jolted to a stop. I looked around, we were at the very top, nothing between us now but stars.

“Miranda, the money,” he demanded softly.

Icy cold shivers moved down my spine. In a split second I pulled a gun from the inside of my boot and shot him at close range in the heart. He looked at me aghast, hands went to his chest, strange noises, limp. I glanced at the crowd below, found what I had come for in his jacket pocket and sat back on the seat beside his body.

The ferris-wheel clicked into motion again. I readied my backpack and as the beast circled around. I quietly kissed his forehead and slipped into the crowd. Past the fairy-floss, into the ghost train, wig off, glasses on, memory stick in my bra, gun safe in my boot. As I walked out of the ride and through the back gates of the fair, I heard screams pierce the crisp evening air.

I went straight to the library. Computer on, stick in. There had been no time to check the disk. Very sloppy of me.

The screen went blank. YOU LOSE MIRANDA. YOU LOSE MIRANDA. YOU LOSE MIRANDA. Across mine and then every screen in the building.


Finally, a quick reminder that I will only be blogging here on Mondays now, but will be blogging on Fridays at my other website A Worded Life: Writing and Editing Services – I hope to see you there too!


Photo credit: Virus


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