We try to host a creative writing workshop at least once a month. Nothing too serious, but it gives the writers in our neighbourhood a chance to gather and do a little free writing. We get out of our heads (and any current piece we might be working on or struggling with) and use writing prompts to create something new. Sometimes, nothing flows from the fingers. Sometimes, magic happens. Whatever the result, we enjoy each other’s company, share ideas, and recharge. We aren’t planning a December workshop as that month is already limbering up and stuffed with enough holiday events and various obligations to keep us crazy, but keep an eye on our social media for January’s workshop date.

The prompts from November’s workshop are the first lines of four different stories by published authors. The genre or instruction indicated does not reflect the genre of the actual books. Choose your prompt, set your timer for twenty minutes, and let the story flow. The original name and author is below the photo prompt. Try not to peek until you’ve used at least one prompt.

Have fun and break a pencil.

Prompts:

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.
– horror

The summer of 2001 had been one of national torpor, with some cheap entertainment for spice.
– adventure

“Of course, even though it’s very old, I know you can imagine the possibilities,” the real estate lady was saying as she gingerly picked her way along the broken flagstones.
– dialogue or monologue

I saw him on a sleepless night when I was walking desperately to save my soul and my vision.
– romance

Photo prompt – The conversation

Photo credit: Angela Shaske

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold – The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (2008)

The summer of 2001 had been one of national torpor, with some cheap entertainment for spice – The Greatest Story Ever Sold: The Decline and Fall of Truth in Bush’s America by Frank Kelly Rich (2006)

“Of course, even though it’s very old, I know you can imagine the possibilities,” the real estate lady was saying as she gingerly picked her way along the broken flagstones – The Watcher in the Woods by Florence Engel Randall (1976)

I saw him on a sleepless night when I was walking desperately to save my soul and my vision – He by H.P. Lovecraft (1926)