
Suppose you had a magic red phone booth that allows you to go back in time and change one thing, what would you change?
Or, write about red phone booths.

Suppose you had a magic red phone booth that allows you to go back in time and change one thing, what would you change?
Or, write about red phone booths.

Today’s Writing Prompt: Who can you depend on?
Or: Write about who you depend on.
If there is no one you depend on, write about that.

I read about author Kira Jane Buxton in the Breaking In column, Writer’s Digest, October 2019 issue. I especially appreciate what she worked through to realize “. . . letting go of outside expectations while writing Hollow Kingdom afforded me the freedom to take great risks.”
Her advice for writers: “Just have fun with it. Write the thing that’s burning inside you.”
I enjoyed reading about her writing journey. I hope you will, too.
I had a solid ten years of professional rejection under my belt by the time I realized I wanted to be a writer. Ten years of trying to ignite an acting career and an art career, seemingly with a broken match and wet kindling. A creative writing class at Santa Monica College (a gift from my husband that I deferred for a year because I was petrified) got my blood pumping and made me realize that all along, what I’d wanted to do was bring characters to life, and it didn’t have to involve the grueling audition process. I realized I wanted to write a book, and—since I’ve always believed that a dream should never be burdened with limits or stipulations—I wanted to publish that book. To be very brave and share my words with the world.
I wrote my first novel, painstakingly tapping it out on an iPad because I’d saved up for one and it made me feel fancy. It was, in line with many a first novel, not spectacular. The plot was exciting, but I hadn’t yet found my voice. It was, however, filled with passion and something that can’t ever be phoned in—a writer’s enthusiasm for writing itself. I queried agents with this novel to a response like the chirping of crickets (I should mention that the query itself was absolutely horrendous and started with, “Dear Agent, The leg is human.”)
No stranger to recovering from a letdown, I picked myself up and wrote a memoir about a strange experience I had while living in LA (one of a great many strange experiences I had in Hollyweird, La La Land). I queried agents again, this time with some interest. An agent who reps one of my favorite authors wrote back, saying that while she felt the book didn’t work, she loved my writing and could see this memoir fictionalized as a humorous mystery series. Huzzah! I jumped back into the saddle and spent the next year rewriting the novel. I sent it back to the agent who felt that it was on its way, but still needed work. I hired two great independent editors (working with them separately). I edited this novel for many, many more months. In fact, I edited it into the high heavens. I edited it into oblivion.
One day, I opened up my document and couldn’t see a word of this novel I’d worked so very hard on. I took breaks and would come back to it, only to discover I still couldn’t see it. Ever the optimist, I decided that I should write the sequel to this novel I was blind to! I wrote the sequel, came back to open up the document, and still couldn’t see it.
The words no longer felt like my own. And I had to admit that I’d lost the novel, that it was well and truly dead. Things with the agent fizzled out, and years of work suddenly seemed like a phenomenal waste of time.
I fell into despair. All the rejection I’d ever experienced (which was, frankly, all I’d ever experienced) came crashing down on me. I cried a lot. I figured I’d never achieve anything creatively. I often make light of this time, because that’s how humorists cope with difficult times, we transmogrify them into manageable jokes—but it was incredibly hard.
It was my husband who told me to “go and write the thing about the crows.” I love crows. I’m an animal lover and spend time with two wild crows daily, they’re family to me. My husband then gave me the best writing advice I’ve ever had. He said, “Just have fun with it. Don’t write it with an expectation of getting an agent or getting published, just write for you.” I took his advice to heart. I wasn’t sure how to write about crows, but one day, while driving, it hit me. “What if a crow is telling the story of our species? And what if a crow is telling the story of our extinction?” I got goosebumps. I raced home and wrote the first chapter, from the perspective of S.T., a domesticated crow who loves humans. His language was fouler than I’d anticipated or ever imagined writing (and certainly couldn’t see getting published!), even his name is an expletive. I poured my passion into the book—my deep love of animals and an exploration of how disconnected we’ve become from the natural world (which is frankly, the only world we have). It was an environmental parable filled with humor, horror, adventure, facts about nature, and poop jokes.
I braved reading the first chapter to my writing group, who encouraged me to query this novel I called Hollow Kingdom. And then I was flying out to New York to interview the agents who had offered me representation. I signed with Bill Clegg of The Clegg Agency and we sold Hollow Kingdom at auction to Grand Central Publishing. It is being translated into many different languages and AMC have optioned the rights for a TV series.
I don’t believe that words are ever wasted. The novels in the drawer are essential to our process and should be cherished, whether they get published or not. No one should ever be made to feel ashamed about their ambitions and dreams—the bigger, the better, I say—but those external goals shouldn’t be the only reason you’re writing. They can be motivating and used as fuel, but they shouldn’t be the core reason you share your words. Write the thing that’s burning inside you. Write your story, no matter how weird or different or afraid you are to tell it. There are currently 7.7 billion people on earth and you’re the only one who can tell us your tale. Enjoy the journey as much as you can. Now that I’m on the other side of publishing a book, I can tell you that the most magical part of the whole process is still sitting down, tuning out the real world, and exploring the creative dance between mind and page. Take breaks when it’s hard and be careful of over editing. Know that you are always going to be the leading authority on your writing. Build community. Be kind to other artists, especially because you know how tough the process can be. Reciprocity is everything, when one writer does well, celebrate, it’s a victory for all of us. Above all, just have fun with it. Every editor who made an offer on Hollow Kingdom said that they could feel what an incredible time I had writing this novel. I stopped trying to be the writer I thought I should be. I let go. Energy is everything and everything is energy. Take the pressure off yourself and trust that when you are in the flow, when you let go of your chokehold on an outcome, your very best writing will take you places, literary and literally, you could never imagine.
Kira Jane Buxton’s writing has appeared in The New York Times, NewYorker.com, McSweeney’s, The Rumpus, Huffington Post, and more. She calls the tropical utopia of Seattle home and spends her time with three cats, a dog, two crows, a charm of hummingbirds, and a husband.

Writing Prompt: An hour won’t make a difference.
When using prompts to inspire writing, you can also use the opposite of what the prompt suggests:
An hour will make a difference.
Just Write!

Today’s brilliant post is by Nancy Julien Kopp:
I’m a proponent of starting with small projects and moving on, step by step, to the bigger ones. Many writers dream of publishing a novel or a full book memoir. Some will start out their writing journey by beginning the pursuit of that dream immediately. It’s fine to have a worthy goal, but diving in the deep end before you know how to swim can bring big problems.
Start small. Write a personal essay or memoir about an occurrence, something that happened and had some meaning for you. Later, it might become a part of the book you hope to write. Those little snippets of memoir can grow into something much larger, as can your personal experiences that taught you a lesson, as we see in personal essays.
Novelists can practice their skill by writing short stories before attempting a full novel. Lots of short stories. Use all the tools you have as a writer to write a good short story, then submit it. If you have some success in selling your short stories, it could very well be time to begin writing the novel you’ve been thinking about for a very long time.
Many writers want to start with the big project, to write a memoir or a novel before writing anything else. They have read many books. How hard can it be? Some will begin by reading a book or two on writing novels (or memoirs), and that’s fine. Others will not bother with reading a book about how to write a novel. They’ll start with chapter one, page one. A few might do very well with this method, but most are going to run into one roadblock after another. At some point, the whole thing could become overwhelming.
If that happens, step back and work on smaller projects for a while. Read some of those reference books on writing a memoir or novel. Attend a workshop about the same. Talk to other writers. Gather all the information you can before you tackle that big idea.
One of my keywords is patience. Don’t be in such a hurry to tackle the big game plan. Take your time, learn as you go, but continue to keep the original goal in mind. Start on the big scheme when you feel ready. With some success at smaller projects, you’ll have some confidence in your ability to take on the big one.
Nancy Julian Kopp has been published in 22 Chicken Soup for the Soul books, several anthologies including The Write Spot: Possibilities, newspapers, magazines and ezines. Her writing includes award-winning fiction for children, creative nonfiction, poetry, travel and personal essays. She was named Prose Writer of the Year in 2013 by the Kansas Authors Club.
Write about a perfect moment.
You can write this as a scene in a play, a TV show, or a movie with scenery details. Include characters in this scene and include location (a specific room, a certain place).
You can include details about the weather, time of day or evening or night, time of year, the mood of each person or the emotional feeling of the people in this scene.
Or: Just write about a perfect moment.
You can write fantasy or fiction. Or you can write about what really happened.
A perfect moment. Just write!


What isn’t working in your life?
What is working?
What are you resisting?
What needs to change?
What really matters?
What do you want?
Ready? Set. Go! Just write!

Michael Shapiro’s latest book is a winner.
Below is an excerpt from the introduction of The Creative Spark: How musicians, writers, explorers, and other artists found their inner fire and followed their dreams.
It reminds me of an important message for every one: We are all unique and have our stories to tell. No one else can tell your story. Only you can.
Something magical happened as I completed this book. One evening just before sunset I was in our backyard watering the planter boxes. On a stem of parsley I noticed a startling pattern of color, concentric rings of orange and black dots. Looking closer I saw the segments of a swallowtail caterpillar and could identify its tiny feet. For the next few days the caterpillar chomped on the parsley plant, absorbing energy for the next stage of its life. I placed a stick in the pot, at an angle to give the caterpillar a place to hang its chrysalis.
The caterpillar’s appearance felt like a message from the universe. For many months I’d been working on transforming interviews I’d conducted with some of the world’s most creative people into a coherent set of chapters. I’d distilled the essence of these interviews into a tonic of ideas about the creative process. And I’d written biographical introductions that sought to put each person’s life in perspective and offer insights about the sources of his or her art.
As I write this, on 2019’s summer solstice, our adopted caterpillar (my wife has given it the gender-neutral name Jordan) is undergoing a miraculous transformation into a butterfly. During the past week, we’ve watched the caterpillar turn into a chrysalis that matches the color of the branch from which it hangs, its striated brown camouflage the antithesis of the colorful creature it was just a few days ago. Yet it’s what is happening inside the chrysalis that is truly astonishing.
The caterpillar is dissolving, using enzymes to digest itself. It’s being broken down into nonspecific cells that can be used for any part of the butterfly. Yet some “highly organized groups of cells known as imaginal discs survive the digestive process,” according to Scientific American. Each of these constellations of cells is programmed to build a specific part of the butterfly. There are imaginal discs for wings, for eyes, for legs, for every part of the butterfly. Typically, after about two weeks, a yellow-and-black swallowtail butterfly will crack open the chrysalis, dry its wings in the morning sun, and fly off seeking nectar.
Why bring up a caterpillar in a book about creativity? First, because it offers such a rich metaphor, and the name “imaginal discs” suggests that making art depends on imagination. And to prepare for its transformation, the caterpillar needs to first feed itself, just as a musician or author must absorb the thoughts and influences that come from songs, books, conversations, memories, and observations. Many creative people seek to isolate themselves, cocoon-like, to escape the relentless drumbeat of popular culture so they can hear their own voices.
“What I noticed at an early stage was that the writers I admire are living a long way from the world,” the author Pico Iyer told me. “The great originals are originals because they’re living outside the received conversation, outside secondhand words and secondhand ideas, to some extent living in a space of their own where they’re able to hear their deeper self and come up with things completely outside the norm. I think that’s why they really shake us.”
Isn’t that what we crave in this era of information overload: songs or stories that really shake us and offer new ways of seeing the world, of hearing ourselves, of feeling, on a soul level, our deepest truths? That’s why I’ve chosen the 31 creative people in this book. They’re original, pioneering, dynamic, and insatiably curious. The authors, musicians, and others profiled in these pages could coast on their earlier accomplishments, but every one has continued to seek adventurous new avenues for igniting their creative spark.
Of course, seeking solitude to hear one’s inner voice doesn’t mean we should shut out those who came before us. As Iowa folk singer Greg Brown says, “I feel links back to a time that not much is known about. Songs, poetry, whatever you want to call it, that urge, it just goes way, way, way back there. And that’s a good connection to feel to life. It’s hard for me to imagine life without that.”
I hope you can spend 15 minutes a day (or longer, if you can) and write your story, as only you can.
Sometimes writing prompts are complex:
Physical location and action to describe emotional state – Prompt #12
And: Location, or place as a character – Prompt #8
And: Imagine you are invited. . . Prompt #64
Sometimes writing prompts are simple, like today’s writing prompt: Yesterday . . .
Don’t over think. Just write!
Prompt: Yesterday . . .
