Monday, October 22, 2012

Picture Prompt Exercise

Time for another writing exercise to get you into prime shape as a writer. Today, I thought we'd use some picture prompts. I'll post three pictures. Study each one, see what it triggers, then freewrite for ten minutes. Move on to the next one. If you do all three, you'll have spent 30-plus minutes and have the seeds for three stories. Now, how bad can that be? So....

Number 1:

Number 2:

Number 3:  

If you especially like one of the three pictures prompt exercises you've done, post it for us in the Comments section.

1 comment:

  1. The following was sent by Kathe Campbell, a writer who lives on top of a mountain in Butte, MT.

    Kathe Campbell 9:07am Oct 22
    Prompt #1 was easy--reminders of life here the last few months. The other two escaped me.

    She did it last year, now she's done it again. My sweet drake is gone this morning, for Mrs. Fox came skulking by the pond to grab the wild mallard before he was awake. Rushing off to her home under a pile of brush, she will nurse her young, gorge herself, then leave the bones for the kits before eventually sending them off on their own. It's what living in and loving nature is all about--the seasons, the miracle of birth, the anguish of loss, and years of joy in-between. Too many blue days gazing a vacant pond where a crippled duck crash-landed seeking sanctuary and plenty of grain under the deck. Each day throughout the summer I've prayed for ducks to skid across Duck Soup Waterfowl Refuge again, but no such luck. Maybe next summer, for I really miss those quacks.

    But now I'm transfixed by a burst of color in brilliant contrast with lofty firs and pines on the mountainside. Their beauty will soon be cut short by old man winter's wrath while glassing quaking aspen leaves in plummeting demise. Having lost all my aspens to the moose, I hope they find enough winter forage without stripping the lovely deciduous trees naked. Grateful for warmish autumns, I've seen a few early skiffs --this year no exception--a small arctic blast on October first to melt quickly and return us to Indian summer.