The Write Spot Blog by Marlene Cullen

Tag: The Write Spot Books

  • The challenge of freewriting . . . Prompt #765

    The challenge of freewriting is getting Self out of the way.

    Let your writing flow with no judging.

    Release your worries about your writing.

    Allow your creative mind to play with words. 

    With freewrites, you are writing for yourself, not for an audience.

    Give yourself permission to be open to whatever comes up while you are writing.

    A freewrite is a way of writing freely, with no worries about the outcome.

    Choose a time when you will not be interrupted.

    Select a prompt. Set a timer for 15-20 minutes and write without pausing to think.

    If you run out of things to say, write “I remember” and go from there.

    Or, write “What I really want to say . . .” 

    Give your inner critic time off during this writing.

    Lists are a great way to inspire freewrites.

    ~ Make a list of issues and experiences, important or trivial, in your life right now.

    ~ What frustrated you in the past month?

    ~ What made you laugh or cry?

    ~ What caused you to lose your temper?

    ~ What was the worst thing that happened?

    ~ What was the best thing that happened?

    ~What was the most disturbing or weird thing that happened?

    Choose one thing from your list and write about it. Write whatever comes to mind. 

    When you are finished writing, take a deep breath in and release your breath out.

    Next prompt: Write about the same incident from the other person’s point of view. 

    Next prompt: Think back to when you were a teenager or a young adult and respond to one of the questions above as your younger self would have responded.

    The Write Spot series of books, edited by Marlene Cullen, features a variety of writing, all ending with a writing prompt, to inspire your writing.  

    There are over 700 prompts on The Write Spot Blog, plus places to submit your writing, Sparks (memorable writing), and guest spots.

    Just Write!

  • Night Knight

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    Night Knight

    By Su Shafer

    We spend almost every night together.

    I’m not away from home often

    But when I am, I ache

    And I don’t sleep well.

    I am uncomfortable with

    The hardness of strangers

    The impersonal coarseness

    Or aloof purist sterility.

    There is never the welcoming

    I get at home.

    The soft embrace,

    The understanding.

    At home there is no judgment

    Or pressure that I am not doing enough,

    No criticism that I am not enough

    My bed cradles me like a mother.

    I am held in a cocoon of love

    I never want to leave.

    I close my eyes and my bed hums

    A silent lullaby

              Sleep dear one

              Tired caterpillar

              Your work will wait

              Dream of wings

              And drinking flowers

              Wake up the butterfly

    That you are.

    Su Shafer is a creative crafter, fabricating bits of writing in poetry and short stories, and other bits into characters that appear in paintings or sit on various bookshelves and coffee tables.

    She lives in a cottage on the Olympic Peninsula of Washington, where the tea kettle is always whistling and the biscuits freshly baked. One never knows who might stop by to share a rainy afternoon. And all are welcome.

    You can read more of Su Shafer’s writing here:

    Herald

    Burgeoning

    And in The Write Spot Anthologies, available from local booksellers and on Amazon (print and as ereaders):

    The Write Spot to Jumpstart Your Writing: Discoveries

    The Write Spot: Musings and ravings From a Pandemic Year

  • Wait.What?

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    Wait. What?

    By Brenda Bellinger

    Mindlessly scrolling through Yahoo News (a time suck, I know), I came across a headline titled “Caroline Kennedy’s first grandchild’s name revealed.” It stopped me cold and aged me a lifetime all at once. I still picture Caroline as that sweet little girl at her father’s grave site in 1963, two days before her seventh birthday.

    A moment that precipitated that image is forever etched into my memory. I was sitting in my third-grade classroom at McKinley School in San Francisco. Our teacher, Mrs. Johnson, whom I recall being about the same age I am now, was in front of the class at the blackboard when we heard a soft knock at the classroom door.

    The door opened and our principal motioned for Mrs. Johnson to step out into the hallway. The room was quiet. Mrs. Johnson returned a few minutes later, just as a couple of the rambunctious kids were beginning to get restless.

    Clearly upset, she reached for a tissue on her desk. “Our president has been shot,” she said, her voice trembling.

    My memory of that day is so clear, still. How is that so many years could have passed since then?

    I’ve been thinking about the major events that have occurred during our lifetimes, particularly during our formative years and how they shaped our thoughts, our plans, our futures. We remember exactly where we were when those key events began to unfold.

    John F. Kennedy’s assassination was one of the historic events that defined the generation of Baby Boomers along with the moon landing and the Vietnam War. Remember the odd/even day gas rationing of the 1970s?

    Gen Xers will remember the Challenger space shuttle disaster and the Gulf War. Millennials will never forget the attacks of September 11. Neither will the rest of us.

    Our younger generations are marked by more than their share of impactful, ongoing events including the COVID-19 pandemic, climate crisis and the war on Ukraine.

    It’s not the passage of time I should be worried about. It’s the future.

    Brenda Bellinger’s writing has appeared in Small Farmer’s Journal, Mom Egg Review, Persimmon Tree, THEMA, the California Writers Club Literary Review and in various anthologies, including several of The Write Spot books.

    Her first novel, “Taking Root,” a young adult story of betrayal and courage, is available through most local bookstores and on Amazon.

    Brenda’s Blog is a wonderful compilation of her writing.

  • You Think You Know Me

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    You Think You Know Me

    By Karen Handyside Ely 

    You think you know me, but you don’t know…

    that I am struggling with a powerful bout of depression. I’ve battled it before. I’ve been in deeper, darker, more dangerous pits. This current episode has rolled over me slowly. Not a storm, but more a dense, thick, cloud cover, wrapping me in the heavy humidity of numbness and ennui, pinning me to the ground with a listless, languid, low-grade despair that makes me want to sleep all day.

    I’m suffocating one breath at a time… in slow motion. This time around, my depression isn’t a raging sea, which has been my usual experience, but an ebbing tide that creeps back over the sand as the fog rolls in to smother the beach.

    I could cry, just writing this, but I don’t. I continue to function, smile, interact. And I try to fight back. I fight with prescribed medication. I fight by restricting alcohol and chocolate – alcohol because it provides temporary, false relief that will ultimately kill me, and chocolate because of my natural proclivity to drown myself in calories, which will also kill me.

    I work with a counselor. It doesn’t feel like it helps, but I know it will. I know I WILL get better. I always have before. My hope has not completely flickered out. I think this is partially a delayed reaction to the covid years, a sort of PTSD, now that the crisis is over (as “over” as it can ever be.) I lived in fight mode for 2 ½ years and managed to keep my head above water, legs propelling me forward. Now my strength and discipline are gone. I’m left with a sorrowful emptiness that I cannot shake.

    For now, I am trying to be gentle with myself. I’m clearing away the unrequired obligations in my life that do not bring me joy. I am de-cluttering the way I live, ala Marie Kondo. I am reintroducing the activities that used to motivate me. I am withholding self-judgement, the hardest exercise of all, and learning to love who I am, not what I do or how I look.

    I don’t think that I am alone. Yes, I have a medical diagnosis of depression, but I can sense the sad fatigue that clings to people around me wherever I go… in grocery lines, or shopping at TJMaxx, in airports and zoom meetings. I think so many are coping, on some level, with this feeling. It hides behind frantic busyness and red-hot anger. It lurks beneath everyday smiles and societal pleasantries. Most of us aren’t incapacitated by it, but the weight of what we carry has become a constant. You think you know me, but you don’t. Right now, I grapple with knowing myself.

    Karen Handyside Ely was born and raised in Petaluma, California. She delights in difficult crossword puzzles, the Santa Rosa Symphony, and traveling with her husband, James.

    Karen has been published in several Write Spot Books:  The Write Spot to Jumpstart Your Writing: Discoveries, The Write Spot: Reflections, The Write Spot: Possibilities, The Write Spot: Writing as a Path to Healing, and The Write Spot: Musings and Ravings From a Pandemic Year. All available at Amazon and your local bookseller.

  • My Secret Cottage

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    My Secret Cottage

    By Kathy Guthormsen

    I open the back door to dew sparkling in the morning sun and hints of rainbows shimmering in the lingering mist. They let me catch a fleeting glimpse before their magic fades. Goosebumps raise along my bare arms as I race through the grass and turn to look at my wet footprints. The sun will soon erase this evidence of my footsteps. I won’t be followed as I skip through an imaginary forest to my secret cottage at the far end of an enchanted glade.

    Rabbit hops along next to me hoping for the reward of a carrot. Cat slinks across the trail, hunting. She’d like to catch Rabbit, but he’s bigger than she is. And wilier. I raise my hand to shade my eyes and turn in a circle. Do I hear something stalking me? I look up and see Eagle soaring through the blue watching after me. I wave and continue along my path.

    My secret cottage is just ahead. An abandoned pump house my father moved to our back yard. He made window boxes and added a covered porch. I swept cobwebs and evicted spiders. Dad carried out a child sized table and chairs. I brought toys and plastic dishes. This is my place. Where I hide from pirates and make friends with birds. Where I hold parties for my dolls and my much-loved teddy bear. Where I serve mud soup and rock cookies. Where adult voices are not heard; adult eyes are not allowed.

    My cottage has faded into the mist of memories. The pump house is small, now derelict, with peeling paint and a warped plywood floor. But I can still visit in my dreams.

    Kathy Guthormsen is the creator of “The Story of Jazz and Vihar.”

    Her writing has been published in several The Write Spot anthologies.

    These books are available from your local bookseller and Amazon.

    You can meet Kathy, and possibly Poe and other birds:

    May 21, 1:00 pm to 3:00 pm: Children’s Museum of Sonoma County, 1835 W. Steele Lane, Santa Rosa, CA

    Date to be determined:  Copperfield’s Books, 144 Kentucky St., Petaluma, CA

    Growing up in Skagit Valley, Washington with its verdant farmland gave Kathy an appreciation for the promise and beauty of nature’s bounty. The Cascade and Olympic mountain ranges and old growth forests offered the magic of things unseen and fostered her fertile imagination.

    When she isn’t writing, Kathy volunteers at the Bird Rescue Center in Santa Rosa, California, working with and presenting resident raptors as part of their education and outreach program. Walking around with a hawk or an owl on her fist is one of her favorite pastimes.

    She maintains a blog, Kathy G Space, where she occasionally posts essays, short stories, and fairy tales.

  • Fortunes I Did Not Get In Cookies

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    Fortunes I Did Not Get In Cookies

    By DSBriggs

    A wise man marries a wiser woman.

    You will get good news; and you will recognize it.

    If you miss your bus, start walking.

    A book returned is a friendship kept.

    Get a dog, it will save you.

    Blood is thicker than water but only Vampires should care.

    Delight in today; for tomorrow is no guarantee.

    Buy a car for its usefulness; not for its beauty.

    The One that got away is not the One for You.

    A blind man cannot see beyond his fingers.

    Asking for help is a sign of strength but ignoring it can be a weakness.

    A half full glass can be emptied and refilled.

    A wise animal is better than a noisy friend.

    Luck is knowing when to walk away.

    Keep a pencil around for it never needs booting up.

    And one I did get; if your table moves, move with it.

    DSBriggs lives and writes in northern California. Her muse lately has been a roommate with soulful brown eyes, four long legs, and a very loud bark, Moose.

    Donna has been fortunate to be published in Marlene Cullen’s The Write Spot Series including: Discoveries, Possibilities and Writing As A Path To Healing, available at your local bookseller. Also available in both print form and as ereaders at Amazon.

    Writing with Marlene and the other Jumpstarters has been one of the most fortunate activities of my life.

  • Dust to Dust

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    Dust to Dust

    By Brenda Bellinger

    This post happens to fall on what would have been my mother’s 86th birthday if she were still with us. She passed away thirteen years ago, yet I often feel her presence. Recently, I was dusting a small antique genie lamp that belonged to her mother, my grandmother. Made of white china, its glaze bears the spiderwebbing of many tiny cracks. Miraculously, the hurricane glass and original brown paper shade, though faded, are both still intact. As I carefully pushed a corner of the dust cloth through the curled handle, I thought of all the times this had been done before. Both my mother and grandmother were fastidious housekeepers. Myself? Not so much.

    I wonder at what point this lamp will cease to hold its significance. A time will come when the sleeping genie will no longer be woken by the caress of a dust cloth and the lamp will find its way to the land of the unwanted and unneeded.

    In the 1950s, the Lane Company of East Providence, Rhode Island gave graduating students at the local Catholic school for girls, a miniature hope chest. Mom gave hers to me many years ago and I use it for odd bits of costume jewelry. Amazingly, the cedar scent is still present. As I mentioned in my last post, times have changed. The idea of a hope chest today, though quaint, seems so horse-and-buggy.

    When she and my father first married, they struggled financially for a while as many young couples do, trying to get their footing. One Christmas, he bought her a bottle of Joy perfume by Jean Patou. She so treasured this bottle that she rarely used it. I remember how it sat regally in the center of a mirrored tray on her dresser. I have it now. One more thing to dust. It’s still about two-thirds full, the perfume having aged a deep amber color. Writing this, I paused for a moment to go open it; something I’ve never done before. As you might have guessed, it turned a corner a very long time ago. I’m not sure why, but I’ll keep it a bit longer.

    Memories. Something else to be thankful for when we gather around the table.

    Brenda Bellinger

    Born in Rhode Island, I spent the first eight years of my life in New England. I can still remember the delight of summer thunderstorms and the fragrance of fall in the air as leaves crunched underfoot. My parents moved to San Francisco and eventually settled in the North Bay Area.

    In 1992, a friend asked me to sign up for a writing class with her. I agreed, never anticipating that class would open a new door for me. At that time, my husband and I were raising four boys and I was working as a courtroom clerk. Writing provided a creative outlet I didn’t know I needed..

    For the month of November 2009, I cleared my calendar of all commitments other than work and Thanksgiving Day to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) – a challenge to write 50,000 words in thirty days. Fueled by good coffee and dark chocolate covered espresso beans, I zipped past the goal and completed the first (extremely rough) draft of what would eventually become my debut novel, “Taking Root.”

    My work has appeared in Small Farmer’s Journal, Mom Egg Review, Persimmon Tree, THEMA, the California Writers Club Literary Review, and in various anthologies, including The Write Spot: Reflections, and The Write Spot: Musings and Ravings From a Pandemic Year.

    Note from Marlene: Brenda’s Blog is a collection of thoughtful and entertaining reflections on what matters.

    “Dust to Dust” originally posted on Brenda’s Blog, November 16, 2021.

  • Create a Hygge Calendar or List

    Photo and heart, by Susan Lawrence

    We hear a lot about being grateful, giving thanks, gratitude lists, and silver linings.

    But what if you just aren’t feeling it?

    How about creating a hygge calendar? I read about this in a Facebook group.

    Make a list of things to be mindful about, a way to help get out of the doldrums and into a feeling of calm, care, and positivity.

    Pay attention to one item each day.

    Personalize your calendar and use it as advent calendar, or as a way of looking at old things in a new way.

    Hygge: A quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being, regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture.

    Hygge Advent Calendar ideas, or a list of how to create a feeling of coziness:

    1. Light a candle during meals.

    2. Chalk a friendly greeting on a sidewalk.

    3. Share an uplifting poem or a story with friends.

    4. Bundle up and sit outside in the evening with twinkle lights.

    5. Read children’s books about Christmas and winter.

    6. Drive around and look at Christmas lights

    7. Hold or look at an item that belonged to a beloved family member, or a beloved friend.

    8. Phone a family member or a friend, just to say hello. Talk about a fun or memorable event you shared.

    9. Make something, it could be a baked item or a craft item.

    10. Sit outside for ten minutes and look at trees.

    11. Write a thank you note or a note just to say “Hi, I’m thinking about you.” Mail it!

    12. Boil cinnamon and orange peels to make the house smell good.

    13. Turn off all lights except for a candle or two (recommend battery operated). Get comfy under a warm blanket. Sit with the quiet.

    14. Look at family photos.

    15. Send a donation or donate your time to helping others.

    16. Make a nest of pillows and read a familiar and cozy book.

    17. Stand at a window and gaze at the view.

    18. Donate money or food to a food bank.

    19. Make paper snowflakes.

    20. Spend some time with a neighborhood pet.

    21. Take a few, deep, nourishing breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out.

    22. Soak feet in mineral salts while listening to music.

    23. Zoom into GROOVE dance with Diane Dupuis, Yoga with Adrienne, Feldenkrais, Insight Timer meditation.

    24. Write, using prompts from The Write Spot Blog.

    Thank you, Susan Lawrence, a speech therapist, in Los Angeles for this inspiration. Susan created her Hygge advent calendar by making a heart shaped wall hanging with pieces of gold paper, each one has a cozy activity written on it and placed in the pockets randomly.

  • Barbara’s Braid

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    Today’s Sparks is a pantoum.

    Barbara’s Braid

    By Karen Ely

    Weaving strands of amber honey

    Over, under, around and through

    Silky locks of shimmer sunlight

    Plaited patterns, three by two

     

    Over, under, around, and through

    Brush strokes cultivate the threads

    Plaited patterns three by two

    A tapestry of golds and reds

     

    Brush strokes cultivate the threads

    Silky locks of shimmer sunlight

    Plaited patterns, three by two

    Weaving strands of amber honey

     

    Karen Handyside Ely was born and raised in Petaluma, California. She delights in difficult crossword puzzles, the Santa Rosa Symphony, and traveling with her husband, James.

    Karen has been published in The Write Spot to Jumpstart Your Writing: Discoveries, The Write Spot: Reflections, The Write Spot: Possibilities, The Write Spot: Writing as a Path to Healing, and The Write Spot: Musings and Ravings From a Pandemic Year.  All available at Amazon and your local bookseller.

    Discoveries is on sale for $6.99 at Amazon for a limited time.

    Writers Forum hosts Saturday afternoon writing for the month of October 2021. Free on the Zoom platform.

  • Chuckstable

    Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.

    Chuckstable

    By Lynn Levy

    Dana cracked her gum and then smoothed it against the roof of her mouth. She pushed her tongue through, making that all-important thin membrane that would become the bubble, and Bobby watched, thinking that the gum made her tongue look as pink as the boa she was wearing. Which was saying a lot.

    There was no explaining, really, why Dana was wearing a boa at all, but Bobby knew her better than to ask. Dana had on a boy’s tank top, cut-off jeans, and Goodwill Kiva sandals with one of the straps broken. She also had a scab on her left knee that grossed out the toughest kid in the neighborhood, and a thin white scar on her right arm from the time she’d fallen out of the big old oak on a dare that she could climb higher than the boys. The bone had stuck through, but Dana didn’t cry. After that she made her own rules, and nobody stopped her. If she wanted to wear a pink boa to catch snapping turtles, that’s what she did.

    Dana blew the bubble and popped it, and used her tongue to pull the broken film back into her mouth.

    Bobby pushed his old safari hat down over his forehead, hoping the shadow would hide his eyes. If Dana caught him staring, he was sure he’d shrivel up and die, though he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t even sure why he was staring, actually, it was just that over this last summer, somehow Dana had gotten really … interesting.

    While he watched, she took a couple of quick lithe leaps across the flat stones, until she was in the middle of the creek, cool water riding over her feet, making the creek surface a different shape right there, two smooth glassy bumps that no longer looked like feet. Dana crouched and looked down into the water. She let her fingers dangle just below the surface, the current drawing little wakes around each one. She didn’t seem to notice the ends of the boa dipping into the creek, the feathers shrinking with wet.

    Bobby jumped a little when she squealed. “It’s a big one!” she called. Then, annoyed, “Are you gonna come help me or what?”

    Bobby ambled over to the creek bank as if he was just himself, instead of how he felt, like he was someone meeting Dana for the first time and shy because of it. He’d known Dana since their Mommas had let them play out in front of the trailers, in undershirts and no pants.

     “What do you want with them snappers, anyway?” Bobby asked.

    “I wanna put one in Duane’s outhouse,” she said. “On accounta what he said about Chuckstable.”

    Chuckstable was Dana’s dog and the love of her life. He was also the ugliest thing God ever put together. What Duane had said was actually pretty funny, but didn’t bear repeating unless you liked the taste of soap.

    “His Pa finds it, he’ll just kill it,” Bobby said. Dana looked up at him, squinting. The light caught her eyes, and the browns and greens flickered just like the creek bottom.

    “Ya think?” Dana asked.

    “Uh huh,” Bobby said.

    Dana sighed, and leaned forward, reaching into the water to stroke the turtle’s shell once, carefully, from behind. Bobby noticed the way the knobs of her spine pushed against the tank top, and had the weird thought that she’d be safer in life if she had a shell too.

    “You’re right,” she said, standing. The wet ends of the boa came out of the water and clung around her knees. “But it was fun to think about.”

    Originally published in The Write Spot to Jumpstart Your Writing: Discoveries, print version available for $6.99 for a limited time at Amazon.

    Lynn Levy’s writing has also been published in The Write Spot: Possibilities and The Write Spot: Musings and Ravings From a Pandemic Year. All available in print ($15) and ereaders ($3.49) at Amazon. E-reader available with Kindle Unlimited.

    All the Write Spot books are also available through your local bookseller.

    Lynn Levy lives in Northern California with her husband, an endless parade of wild birds, and one dour skunk who passes by nightly. She and the skunk have an understanding.