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  • Sand and Stars . . . Prompt #899


    What comes up for you when you hear the word stars or sand? Excerpts from “The Wishing Game” by Meg Shaffer: “The sand was so cold on his naked feet it felt wet.” “He found his shoes and dusted the sand from them.” Excerpt from “Getting Fit With Walker,” by Glenda Ferguson: “I was fascinated by the twinkling stars and the phases of the moon. Those moments focused me on the present, not on what…




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  • Never Count a Submission Out

    Guest Blogger Nancy Julien Kopp encourages patience and perseverance when submitting writing: Some years ago, I had written a personal essay about how my father, who had…

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  • “If you have one eye on the mirror . . .”

    “I really think that if there’s any one enemy to human creativity, especially creative writing, its self-consciousness. And if you have one eye on the mirror to…

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  • The rhythm of —

    The rhythm of — by Kshatriya AAAAAHHHHHHH! with my whole chest. with all my breath. from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.…

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  • Reunions . . . Prompt #897

    Write about a reunion, or the idea of a reunion. Could be a family reunion, or school, work, organization. Any kind of a reunion. Have you gone…

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  • Life is sometimes . . .

    “Life is sometimes a maze, sometimes a jigsaw puzzle. While writing you can explore paths to navigate the maze and find the pieces that fit together to…

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  • Senses

    Senses By Patricia Morris HOME sounds like silence, broken by a refrigerator hum, cackling chickens from next door, the occasional helicopter or small plane buzzing overhead. Home…

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  • Losing Beauty Saved My Skin

    By Julie Sherman The mean girls of the garden were stingy with their gifts. Flowering slowly, one bud at a time, then a second and a third…

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  • Voice of Innocence . . . Voice of Experience . . . Prompt #896

    Prompt 1 Think of an experience that happened at least 10 years ago. Something you keep thinking about; something that holds your attention, something you can’t let…

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  • Image of a writer . . .

    “When I speak of writing, the image that comes first to my mind is not a novel, a poem, or a literary tradition; it is the person…

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