Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. I Know Now By Mary O’Brien I know now not to bet on a sure thing. Christmas caroling with Grandpa and the grandkids at a nursing home the Saturday before The Big Day? Piece of cake…and there would be cake and treats for all participants afterwards. The perfect ending to a memory-making afternoon. This I had promised. I know now that my 86-year-old father, once blessed with a deep, rich and mellow bass voice now sings 1.75 pitches above the tone for which he aims. You know, the melody everyone else is singing a Capella because no musicians showed up. I leaned toward my oblivious and progressively hard of hearing dad, aiming what was left of my contralto towards his left ear. I had lost my voice the day before and at this point all I…
Tag: Writing freely. Just write. Writing Prompts. The Write Spot Blog.
Joy . . . Prompt #820
Write about something you own that brings you joy. Or, write about something you own that does not bring you joy. Why do you keep it? #justwrite #iamwriting #iamawriter
Scent: Powerfully Evocative
Rainy Day Chocolate “The seasonal ingredient that might be the most powerfully evocative is scent. Physiologically speaking, the central location for identifying aromas lives in the front of our brains in the olfactory bulb. This structure is closely tied to the limbic system, a command center for our emotions and long-term memory. That explains why scent is so closely allied with thought.” — Stephen Orr, Editor in Chief of Better Homes & Gardens magazine (December 2023). Choose a prompt related to sensory detail and Just Write! Smell, Taste, Hear, Touch Imagery and Sensory Detail ala Adair Lara Sensory Detail
Winter Sunrises
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Winter Sunrises By Elizabeth Beechwood On the darkest days The glorious sunrise shouts And still we persist! Winter solstice marks the beginning of our journey around The Wheel together. It’s a mysterious dark time here in the Northern Hemisphere, when Nature challenges us to turn inward. Inward to our homes, inward to our bodies, inward to our minds and thoughts. In my part of the Pacific Northwest, winter is marked by long stretches of blustery rain punctuated with cold, clear breaks in the weather. Many people find comfort in starry winter skies, chunky knitted blankets, and twinkling lights. But it’s during these breaks that I find comfort in something different: the winter sunrise. The sunrise is especially glorious on these mornings; the sky is banded with robin’s egg blue, house finch blush, and warbler yellows and…
Courage . . . Prompt #818
Today’s Writing Prompt: Courage Just Write!
Getting Older . . . Prompt #817
Image by Freepik Write about getting older. #justwrite #iamwriting #iamawriter
Oldest Friend . . . Prompt #816
Write about your oldest friend or oldest relative. #justwrite #amwriting #iamawriter
When is writing done?
“Even after a poem has hardened into print, it may continue to represent a risk, a chance, a surmise, or a hypothesis about itself.” —Mary Kinzie. A Poet’s Guide to Poetry, U Chicago Press Thank you, Sonoma County Poet Laureate, Dave Seter, for letting me know about Mary Kinzie. Dave’s response to Mary’s quote: “What this means to me is, a piece of writing is never truly ‘done’ so instead of worrying so much about whether it is ‘done,’ we should share our writing with each other even when it feels a little raw, because there is power in the original idea and sometimes it takes time for the words to catch up with the idea.” #justwrite #iamwriting #iamawriter
A special person . . . Prompt #814
My grandmother (Nana) making noodles with my sister and my niece, circa 1974. Write about a special person in your life. The person can be alive or no longer living. It could also be an animal. #justwrite #iamawriter #amwriting
Loss
Guest Blogger Sharon Ziff writes: I lost my gloves—the ones I bought in Venice last year. I loved them. LOVED THEM. How could I love a pair of gloves? They had a soft, fluffy pompom on the top. I liked to stroke them. It was like petting a kitty. Sadness. And upset with myself for losing them. So I lost a pair of gloves. How could I feel this deep emotion for a pair of gloves? It’s the attachment to my experience in Venice and my love for the friend I was with. Loss is a recurring theme in my writing. At times, I struggle to manage the intense feelings that accompany loss. There’s a burning sensation in my belly that I want to go away. I find myself thinking, “No, no, no,” while tears begin to flow. It’s not about the lost gloves; it’s about the impermanence of life….