Skip to main content

writing: A creative writing exercise

Sometimes I have ideas rattling around my head and they keep tickling me, but they won't quite come out. So here's one thing I do.

I take some brief ideas. The ones set out below came from the sentences I was recording on Vocal ID tonight. As I was recording them I was wondering if people ever said most of those sentences, which made me think about context, so I've taken some to act as prompts (thanks Vocal ID).

These ideas are supposed to be pretty general, so they can lead off in many directions, but they were ones that grabbed my fancy while my mind was being tickled by a particular thing so I suspect they may be more amendable to that thing... If that makes sense.

Anyway, you take six prompts.  Here are mine:

  1. No one else can help me.
  2. I should have asked him in.
  3. He looked so wistful as he went away.
  4. I know a story.
  5. I will not grant your wish.
  6. Now go and do not seek me again.
See what I mean? You're not likely to say most of those are you?

Right, as you've got six prompts you now fetch yourself a dice (or a dice app), roll and you've got your number.

I got 4.

Write your prompt down as a title. If you like, you can write it down as your first sentence too. Now set a timer for five minutes, and write whatever comes to mind.

It can be pants. That's allowed.

When you've finished writing for five minutes stop, and put it away. Later on you can get it out and see whether there's anything you want to convert into a poem, or find out more about.

So you can see what I'm on about, here's what I wrote:



I know a story.

I know a story. At least I know the bones. This is a tale of a girl, a beast, and a rose. Oh? You think you know the story? Which one have you heard? For there are many.

Is it the tale of the girl whose father picks her a rose, damning her to forfeit her heart? Or is it the tale of the girl who picks her own rose, forging her own path, and then dealing with the consequences herself?

Was one story begotten from the other? Or did both come from some ancient story that is older than we know?

What truth is in this tale?

You should be careful picking roses, you're likely to get hurt. And I'm not talking about the pricks, or am I?

Who is this girl? What colour her dress? Why is she picking this rose, or having the rose picked for her?

She must be young and beautiful to be idle enough to pick roses, and to merit having roses picked. But to steal a rose? Have you ever gone into a neighbour's garden and stolen a rose? Why would anyone do that?


Where to now? I definitely want to do some more research about the stories of the rose-picking/picked girl. I've already written a poem inspired by some of these stories, and I feel that there could be something else there. However, I have other fish to fry right now...

Why don't you give it a go? Let me know how you get on and if anything comes of it. I'd love to see where your prompts lead you.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

February update!

  Hello! Please see above for a screenshot (not sure who the photo is by) from the lovely Fragmented Voices website which has my poem, Escaping Pheasants, as their featured poem today. This poem is inspired by the pheasants which are brought in to our local country house for people who are that way inclined to shoot. Sometimes I see them flapping down from the estate wall and on to the busy road, making a break for it toward the moors. Good luck pheasants. Escaping Pheasants also features in my book, Little Gods, published by the marvellous Roswell Publishing and available from booksellers and Amazon, or get in touch to get a signed copy from me. Other recent successes include two poems in Obsessed with Pipework #105, a Haiku in Coin Operated Press ' Haiku Zine, The Libraries  came out in Culture Matters' Bread & Roses Anthology, and, as I mentioned last time, When you slow a bit you can see the way , another poem from Little Gods, came out in Butcher's Dog #19. I have ...

Cleaning: A Poetry Post

Today I'm bringing inspiration from a writing workshop I went to the other day. We had to list lots of things, like things we did every day, things we hated, all that stuff. I can't remember which list 'cleaning' fell on - it could have been either of the ones I've mentioned, but here is my poem on the subject. If you like it, please feel free to share. Cleaning I'm not leaning toward cleaning. Not predisposed to tidy clothes. I'm not inclined to wax sublime. There is no room I would vacuum. I've no desire to scrub with wire. I wouldn't wish to wash a dish. As for laundry, it just bores me. Toward cleaning I'm not leaning. © Cara L McKee 3/4/16

Beaches: a poetry post

And so we're into Autumn, I swear I heard the tyres screeching as the season turned. I'm writing this at my desk in the light of my little lamp and it's almost 9am, but it's gloomy because it's chucking it down. I love Autumn. I spent ages yesterday watching gannets diving for fish in the roiling sea, keeping their places despite the wind. And I love the fog that can wrap us up in a quiet blanket. I used to live in the Isle of Man, where the god Manannan takes care of his drunk little islanders by wrapping his warm cloak around them. So whenever I can't see the islands near us for the fog I wonder if Manannan is wrapping his cloak around us too. It feels like it. Anyway, The Prompt, over on the Mum Turned Mom blog this week is Motion, which just had me thinking of the motion of the ocean, and of the good luck I have to be able to live near the sea again. So I am sharing this poem which I wrote earlier this year, inspired by a line in Andrew McMillan...