Inventive Writing Prompt Round-up #36

Here's the latest collection of posts from my Tumblr blog, where I post a prompt daily.

#246 As a child did you (or your main character) go to church? Sunday school or sitting in the service with the adults?  What was your experience—love or hate? Character building or destroying?

#247 And then she had to start over again….

#248 Scissors, watchband, rabbit.  Use these three words in a sentence and then use that sentence as a prompt.

#249 Happy April Fool’s Day!  Write about a time somebody fooled you and what happened.  How did you feel about it?  Some people think pranking is hysterical, others, not so much.

#250 What’s your character’s favorite kind of weather? (Not everyone likes endless stretches of warm, sunny days.) 

#251 It’s Good Friday.  What are your character’s beliefs around religion?

#252 How does your character feel about technology? Luddite or early adopter?  Or somewhere in between?

 Happy writing!  What are you working on?  Do you use prompts often as you write?

 

3 thoughts on “Inventive Writing Prompt Round-up #36”

  1. #246 Yes, I went to church as a child. This morning, Easter Sunday, I have been so uncertain. At the beginning of the year, I attended the early service every week. I prayed often about my book. In almost all ways it is insignificant, but I made deals with God as if it were important to someone other than myself. I don’t mean promising things to God if he made my book a bestseller. I would never stoop to that. It has nothing to do with book sales. I owe already. In the middle of February, after one of those deals, I was told to wait―I thought wait until today, but this morning I just couldn’t go. So I’m still thinking, still dealing. My parents were Hard-shelled Baptists. The church had no air conditioning. For the night services, some churches used yellow light bulbs that allegedly did not attract bugs, who flew in through the windows that were raised on the first hot day of Spring. Church played out under that dim yellow glow. I remember some of the characters. Andrew, an old man. He didn’t wear a tie and his suit had never seen the dry cleaners. No one had money, but his plight was worse than most. I know some people donated guitar strings for his old flat top. He testified through singing and playing that guitar. I came from that, where the services would absolutely scare the hell out of you. Now I attend the Episcopal church, a polar opposite. The only thing I have to fear is dressing wrong―except God, of course . . . and all those deals. I don’t know what my early church years did to me. As my favorite poet, Rachel Wetzsteon wrote in Sakura Park, “, , , ten years on and ten blocks down I still can’t tell whether this dispersal resembles a fist unclenching or waving goodbye.”

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