writes
Directions: Select for yourself three objects such as a tape measure, a bible, and a ham sandwich. These are examples; you can choose anything, so long as they appear to be random. Weave these disparate objects into a plausible, coherent story. They should be essential to the story, integrated into the plot, not incidental or mere props.
OBJECTS: radiator hose, smart speaker, bearded dragon
The relentless beeping of the smart speaker in the corner of my room did not stop when commanded. It seems I know myself well enough to prevent this feature from working with my early morning alarm. Forced to get out of bed and totter my way to the evil device, I pulled it from the wall. Silence. On my way back to bed, my foot fell on something spiky yet squishy. Holy Hell, it was my roommate's bearded dragon, Norbert. My befuddled mind could not grasp how the interloper ended up under a pile of my dirty laundry. I picked him up and he glared at me. A quick inspection of our flat revealed that my roommate was not home. I put Norbert back in his enclosure. I fed him a tasty snack of live crickets and watched him for a bit. All his limbs seemed in working order and he made fast work of his meal.
I had wasted precious time and found myself rushing to get ready for work. I bolted down the stairs and almost knocked my roommate over. Serena shifted from one foot to the other and looked past my left shoulder while she addressed me.
"Hey Laura, um, I borrowed your car last night"
I didn't even realize my keys weren't in my purse. She looked at the floor.
"uh, well, um. I guess it broke down. It literally just stopped working and I freaked out, so I left it and got an Uber to Joseph's place last night".
Now I was the one counting floor tiles. I knew the radiator hose had been leaking, but I didn't have the cash to fix it. I can't blame her for not wanting to face me. She probably thought she did something to cause the car to stop working.
"Where'd you leave the car?"
"5th and Main."
I'd have to call my boss and tell him I wasn't going to make it today. I debated telling her I stepped on Norbert, but figured her day was already starting out like crap.
I took a cab to the car's location. As we pulled up I could see it was a junk yard. Serena was right, the car had stopped. It was totaled. When I got back to the apartment, she showed me the bruises she had been hiding when we spoke on the stairs.
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From "What if? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers" by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter
Exercise: Choose a setting (a room in your character’s home or workplace). Have the character enter that space. Describe what he or she sees in your character’s point of view. Here’s the catch: you will write this description three different ways. For each part of this exercise, imagine the character is walking into that setting after a major life event.
The first version takes place just after the character has met the love of his or her life.
The second is after the character has suffered a significant loss.
The third is just after the character has been made to fear for his or hear life.
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VERSION 1:
Marli entered her living room and breezed over to the window. She threw back the sheers and danced around the coffee table to sit in her favorite recliner, spinning wildly as a broad smile crossed her face. The air freshener she purchased at the corner store gushed the divine scent of lilacs. The bright sun shone in a pattern on the lamp shade.
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VERSION 2:
Marli entered her living room and dumped her purse and keys right on the floor inside the doorway. She crossed the living room bumping her shin as she sunk into her favorite recliner. She pulled the throw blanket up to her chin and took in the woodsy smell of her late husband. Anemic sunlight washed away the color in the room.
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VERSION 3:
Marli entered her living room and ran to the window to throw down the shades. She extinguished the lamp that had gone on automatically at dusk. She hit her hip on the sharp corner of the coffee table as she dove to the ground between it and the recliner. She could smell how rank she had gotten while sweat dripped onto the tile floor.
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From the website diyMFA.com
DIRECTIONS: Write a short piece of fiction--about a thousand words. It may be a complete short story and it may be the beginning of a longer piece. But it starts as follows:
The first time I (or name) heard SPECIFIC SONG TITLE by SPECIFIC ARTIST OR GROUP, I (or name) was down/up/over at PLACE and we were doing ACTION.
As I sailed down the highway in my dented Dodge Caravan, the speedometer danced close to 15 miles over the speed limit. The first notes of a familiar tune began. I turned up the radio. The beat of the iconic song began to accelerate, so did I. The first time I heard "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince, I was in a smaller car with my best friends screaming around corners with the smell of suntan lotion and the wind in our hair. We called Kat's car the ‘tin can’ and we managed to get eight of us in it. Each time we got to a curve in the road she'd yell "LEAN!" and everyone would lean in the direction we were headed. For the life of me, I cannot remember why we did this. But given the fact that we were already squashed in like sardines, it couldn't have been comfortable.
In the summer of 1984 in south Florida, there was only one place you wanted to be with a car full of girlfriends, and it wasn't the beach. The beach was reserved for sunset. During the heat of the day, you went to the mall. My kids can't imagine why we would want to actually "hang out" at the mall. But I remember it so clearly that I can hear the sound of the video games in the arcade as we peeked around the machines to find that cute boy from gym class. His tight jean shorts were the focus of our attention until his friend walked up behind him, inexplicably with no shirt on. The fashion trend those days was half shirts on boys. We certainly weren’t afraid to take risks in the 80’s.
Technically we did meet in gym class that previous spring.His basketball skills were lacking which was evidenced one day when he completely missed a pass and the ball went full-on into my ribcage. The force of it pushed me onto my butt and I just sat there trying to breath. I was still holding the ball when he walked up and took it out of my lap and offered me his hand. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even turn my head to see if anyone saw what happened. “Hey, you alright there?” I heard him say, but I could only see his legs, his face was with the rest of him out of my line of vision. “I think I might have broken a rib” I managed to say. I watched his blue and white Dolphin shorts recede as the lights went out.
To be continued...
DIRECTIONS: Take a stolen first sentence from another piece of writing and use it as the beginning of a story, free-associating. Try writing all in one rush, under pressure, for twenty minutes or so.
[my stolen sentence is from the book "Fablehaven" by Brandon Mull.
Kendra stared out of the side window of the SUV, watching the foliage blur past.
FREEWRITE:
Kendra stared out of the side window of the SUV, watching the foliage blur past. She was singing to the radio and thought her voice sounded amazing. Her sister was the singer in the family, however, so she was unaccustomed to getting noticed for her singing ability. But it was her sister whose approval she craved. She honestly didn't know if she was any good or not, but she thought maybe she could be better than Rachel. That if her sister hadn't already claimed the role of "talented" that she might have had a shot. But she didn't dare consider making a go at acting or singing or anything that would put a shadow on her sister's future as an artist. So she sat in the car, singing louder and louder and waited for her sister to make a comment. No. Dared her sister to make a comment. She was older by seven years, but Rachel was the one who got all the attention. Kendra had paved the way for her parents to "do it right this time". They had gotten pregnant before they were ready, quite accidentally, having used birth control for their wild oats days and would have continued to sew them had the one percent chance not materialized in the faint line on a pregnancy stick. Kendra brought them joy that they couldn't have imagined and showed them how to be selfless, showed them their love in a chubby, blue eyed bundle. They read all the books and gleaned the most they could from their siblings who had parented before them. But they were still young and foolish and couldn't know how their carelessness would manifest in the mind of a little girl who wanted nothing more than to be their whole world. When the next bundle of blue eyed baby came into their world, she was planned and wanted and celebrated like a xxx. Her existence was both welcome by Kendra and anticipated to be something that would bring her joy. Her own personal baby, doll-like in her perfection, and someone for Kendra to care for like her own. She would protect this little person and show her the way of the world. Until Rachel became the world. The whole world that their lives revolved around and the center of every orbit she entered. How could she have wanted this? How did she think she could have influence over this perfect child? As the music started to fade, she could feel her heart fading with it. It was no surprise that her sister didn't comment on her singing. She was also singing along, in harmony, with perfect pitch and with confidence. Maybe that was the difference. Kendra sang from a place of want. A place of needing to be heard. And Rachel sang because she felt like it. She knew others would listen and hear her talent. She knew that she was good. Kendra knew only that she was destined to be the one who lived in the shadows. Like the deep dark places far in the woods that blurred past her car window. Something visible but not seen. Not truly seen. Just the darkness behind the mass of trees. Maybe she should embrace the darkness, the shadow world she lived in that existed, but didn't. She could find her own power in being invisible. Could she lean into the void and turn it to her will? She spent a lot of time watching, learning, teasing out the way in which her sister moved through the world. Could she use her sister's confidence to her advantage? She was predictable, after all. Kendra had learned a lot in her doctoral thesis on Machiavellianism. But most of all, she learned that she embodied the traits of the "dark triad" and she intended to make use of them.
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From "What if? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers" by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter
DIRECTIONS: Choose one of the nine techniques outlined in the article and write a few paragraphs from a scene, using your chosen method to foreshadow future events. Then write a paragraph telling us about what will happen later in the story to fulfill the foreshadowing. Write for fifteen minutes.
Jocelyn felt a trickle of sweat drip slowly down her spine. The stanchion to her left had been tipped over, but no one bothered to pick it up. She shuffled a few paces as the teenager ahead of her inched forward and bumped right into his backpack. She immediately took 3 steps back crunching the toes of the small woman behind her. The smell of body odor should have been pungent in the tight space, but the medical mask she wore helped to stifle it. "Thank you for adhering to social distancing guidelines by keeping at least 6 feet apart and wearing a mask" the loudspeaker bellowed. Social distancing was a luxury she didn't benefit from in her current scenario. A boy in a dark hoodie appeared next to her and stepped over the rope squeezing in front of her.
"What are you doing?" caught in her throat as he peered up at her. Donnie. She couldn't believe he found her. How did he manage to squeeze past all those people without a riot breaking out? The last time she had seen her little brother, he'd had a gas mask on and was throwing the tear gas canister back at the police. The smoke had filled the streets so quickly and the protesters were scattering, especially those without protection from the gas. She tried to grab him in the mele, but her own gas mask was ill-fitting and had her doubled over in an instant. She found herself on the ground, but no one bothered to help her up.
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From "The Write Practice" blog
DIRECTIONS: Begin a story with this first line: The neighbors were at it again.
The neighbors were at it again. Murphy, their lab mix, had gotten loose and they were fixing the screen on their lanai. Murphy has long legs that carry him to the front of the neighborhood before they know he is gone. The last time he got loose, my dogs were standing at the fence in my back yard with their tails wagging away. You could see Murphy's snout rooting under a loose board panting heavily. When I brought him home, I saw the destruction he wreaked in their back yard. Every screen had a piece of plexiglass in front of it, but yet he still managed to find an escape. I couldn't imagine what they were doing this time to try and outsmart their pup. They weren't home much and left the poor guy on the patio all day while they are gone. Each morning when they leave for work at 7:00 am, he starts barking. so they bought a bark collar that shocks him when he barks. Now he wails pitifully. Instead of fencing in the entire back yard, they fenced in just a quarter of it and call it the dog run. When the grass in the dog run was getting stinky and ripped up, they replaced it with rocks. How do you run on rocks? So he escapes and runs and runs and runs. I asked if they had done any training with the dog, they said it didn't work. Now they are pregnant with their first child. When my husband and I were first married, we got a dog and it was great practice for the responsibility of having kids. I shudder to think of what this young couple has learned about being responsible.
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From "What if? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers" by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter
DIRECTIONS: see how many ways there are to open one particular story you have in mind. How does the story change when the opening changes from a generalization to a line of dialogue?
With a Reminiscent Narrator
In the summers of my youth, I spent many an afternoon waiting for the typical Florida rain to move through my neighborhood, leaving the steaming pavement ready for my next adventure.
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With a Generalization
Patience is cultivated by the children living in a place known for afternoon sun showers.
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With Dialogue
"You look like you peed your pants"! Tracy said when we got off our bikes and surveyed the post-storm landscape.
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From "What if? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers" by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter
DIRECTIONS #1: experiment with different types of openings for different stories until you feel comfortable with each technique.
With Generalization
It is an unknown fact that peanut butter crackers make a very well rounded dinner option when paired with strawberries.
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With a Description of a Person
His children knew not to believe a word he said, not because he was a liar, but because he was a character up to tricks and a play on words, just to make sure you were paying attention.
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With Narrative Summary
The length of time it took for the dogs to finish their dinner was directly proportional to the amount of playtime they had chasing after the Labrador Retrievers and Jack Russel Terriers at the park.
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With Dialogue
After watching three young girls gyrating and swinging their arms in unison in the produce department, Mrs. Dunston said "Is this a flash mob or a prank"?
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With Several Characters but No Dialogue
The guys putting in the new windows didn't bother to wipe their feet when they stomped through the house. Each one left their imprint on my carpet in a new and interesting way.
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With a Setting and Only One Character
I could hear the buzzing of the power tool being used to raze the larger brush at the end of my street. There was already a steady stream of heavy machinery making its way to the back of the preserve.
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With a Reminiscent Narrator
I used to be scared of heights until I had children, and then I was afraid of so much more I forgot to be afraid when I found myself on the roof of my house retrieving a frisbee.
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With a Child Narrator
We called ourselves the tomboy club and created a secret handshake. There were five of us on the playground jungle gym and we growled at kids to keep them away.
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By Establishing Point of View
FIRST-PERSON
I never liked flowers when presented as an apology, they were too likely to die before I was ready to forgive the other person.
THIRD PERSON
Carolyn could taste the blood in the back of her throat and knew another nose-bleed was seconds away.
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From "What if? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers" by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter
DIRECTIONS: Write several second sentences to the same first sentence.
Story 1: Change the setting
She was doubled over, with her hands on her knees, catching her breath after running up the soggy hill. She couldn't even remember how she got here, only the claustrophobic feeling of the apartment and the look on Carrie's face when the truth was finally out in the open.
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Story 2: Add a line of dialogue
She was doubled over, with her hands on her knees, catching her breath after running up the soggy hill. She looked up to see Ryan slogging slowly up behind her saying through his teeth "I give up, you can't make me take another step".
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Story 3: Add a loved/hated pet
She was doubled over, with her hands on her knees, catching her breath after running up the soggy hill. She looked around frantically trying to catch a glimpse of the rust-colored fur that had brought her so much contentment over the years, he just couldn't be gone.
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Story 4: Have the main character suffer a severe physical injury
She was doubled over, with her hands on her knees, catching her breath after running up the soggy hill. This didn't feel like a bad run day, it felt like someone was stabbing her with an ice pick and it got serious the moment she noticed blood when she coughed.
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Story 5: The character discovers someone close to them is a criminal
She was doubled over, with her hands on her knees, catching her breath after running up the soggy hill. Her mind was reeling and she couldn't believe she didn't know that her brother had been dealing meth.
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From "What if? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers" by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter
DIRECTIONS: Write opening lines for ten different stories.
1) Harriet Krug walked ten paces and turned on her heel as if the duel were about to begin, only to find that her opponent was already gone.
2) Worry is futile when you already know the outcome before it happens.
3) I could feel the weight of her stare behind me as I closed the drawer to my credenza, hoping she didn't see what was hidden beneath the tea towels.
4) The train whistle screeched its urgent bird call and startled the baby awake, adding his cries to the mele.
5) It was a boring, stale, and ordinary day, or so it seemed.
6) The silence felt like a burden, one I could actually hear, which didn't make sense at the time.
7) She was doubled over, with her hands on her knees, catching her breath after running up the soggy hill.
8) Barb was the first female volunteer firefighter back in her day, and if you met her you knew this about her, because she made sure everyone heard the story.
9) The splat of the giant raindrop on the windscreen startled Camy back to her senses, just as the tail lights zoomed into view.
10) Lazy fog lifted off the ground in patches giving off a muted glow under the street lights.
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From "What if? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers" by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter