So I have been lax about a few things this summer: this blog, i.e. posting a new prompt every Monday, and writing in general.
I felt so strongly the other day that I really needed to sit down and write write write. I had an urge to do a "writing marathon," and I told my friend about this. He said, "Oh! I want to do that too!" So we decided five hours would be a good length of time to be considered a "marathon." Last night we got snacks, our computers, paper and pens and sat down to write for five solid hours.
It was great. We didn't produce as much as one might expect, but it felt really good to work on some projects that I had been putting off.
So, poets, I encourage you to do this. If the marathon idea strikes you, try it! We found that 5 hours was a quite doable length of time, and we want to try 8 hours next time. Maybe we'll work our way up to 12.
Here are some prompts if you get stuck:
-Write a letter to a random person/ random people. These don't have to be sent.
-Write poems: haiku, sonnets, lullabies, free verse
-start a screenplay.
-write a play
-write a short story
-write about your dream last night.
-write about a person
-write an essay about an epiphany you had
-write about your family
-write about your favorite meal
-write a list of everything you are embarrassed about.
And as always, if you want to share, share! I'd love to see what you come up with. (just be a little selective-- I don't think the comments allow you to post novels.)
1 comment:
poem at 1 am
Eternity is patient:
If eternity does exist, she stretches out before us, like a road with coastline, stretching and stretching.
She has no stretch marks.
Eternity has no stretch marks even after she has given birth to Time.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever.
Eternity is kind, she does not envy, she does not boast, eternity is not proud:
She stretches long the mountain scape of her bed, lounging in herself, musing that eternity and maternity rhyme.
Our mother is not rude, is not self-seeking, is not easily angered; she keeps no record of wrongs:
She doesn’t know though, that Time will cause rocks to break and wrinkles to form, love to fade, hearts to stop.
Our mother does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth:
All she knows for now is that she loves her baby, what ever he looks like, no matter if he has nine impatient toes tapping on feet that always run.
But Eternity will stand separately, all the while embracing time, telling Time that he ought to slow down, telling Time that he ought to really not be so obsessive about getting things done.
Eternity always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves:
And for now, Time has stopped racing, and Eternity has taken over; said, let me stay and watch the world while you get some sleep.
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