I felt like trying something new today.
I’ve been lazy with posts this April, mostly because any writing at all just seemed like extra work. I figured that extra work was not something I needed when studying for exams, rehearsing for a drama performance, and dealing with the rest of life. It seemed like a decent-enough excuse to me.
This morning I awoke with the thought ‘Hey, since when did writing become work?’
Answer: When it stopped being fun.
I started writing stories in the first place because it was fun. For the most part, I think everyone does. We’re well known for only doing things that eventually provide a reward in the form of a dopamine rush.
But when life gets busy or the pressure to succeed mounts up, we lose sight of the fun.
So to undo this knot of writing stress, let me introduce you to my favorite writing game/prompt:
Fire Starter
The rules: Write the supplied sentence/sentence fragment at the top of your page (computer, notebook, etc. Whatever you prefer) set a timer to 10 minutes and start writing whatever you think would follow that first sentence.
Today’s sentence:
Water laps against the walls.
After you try this out, you can find what I wrote by clicking here (because comparing everyone’s different ideas is the best bit!). I fixed some of the punctuation and spelling to make it easier to read, but this is about fun, not editing.
And here’s what my amazing little sister wrote (she also supplied the sentence).
If you’re really feeling brave, you can post what you’ve written in the comments because, as I said, comparing our unique takes on the sentence is the best part.
Have fun with the writing!
Sonora Hills 
I think you and your sisters writing puts me to shame, but here you go:
Water laps against the walls. An eagle screeches overhead. You’re not going to make it.
You scrabble for another foot hold in the wall as the water rises. There must be another. Normally climbing is easy, there’s always something to grab onto or push off of, but here is different. As you reach up, your left foot slips off the algae covered stone and you let out a small cry before you can stop yourself. Your body grazes against the stone as you slide back down. Luckily you manage to grab a handhold before your feet touch the water.
As you catch your breath, you look up uncertainly. If they had heard you, that was it.
After about a minute you remember the water and start to climb again. This time moving a bit further to the right. If you could just make it to the top it would be okay.
Maybe that’s a lie, but that’s all you have to go on for now. It will be okay…
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“Water laps against the walls, soothing me to sleep. I wake with a jolt. I have been asleep. The water was a dream. I wish I was back there. I never had any trouble sleeping at home. Nowadays I cry for hours each night before I fall asleep. I miss the sea. I cannot hear it from where I am living now. I cried for weeks when I learned that I had to come here. It is even worse than I thought it would be. I have to pretend to be happy, even though I am desperately homesick. I hate this city, and this fake, poky flat. There is no water anywhere. When I am alone I run the taps and listen to the sound, even though I know I will be in trouble if anyone finds out. My father promised that it would only be temporary. We have been here for a whole long year. I have lost any hope I had of going back there. I hate my Father because he hates my home. He is HAPPY here. He doesn’t understand. If he did he would take me back. He says we are better off here, he has a better job and I am ‘improving my chances of a better future’ by getting a ‘decent education’. What he doesn’t know is that I have not been to school since we moved here. I have vowed not to make any friends or go to school until we go back. My father does not believe me. He thinks I am joking. My Mama would have understood. She would have taken me home. It was always her home too. Her and father fought. She didn’t want us to come here. She fought him until she died. It didn’t stop him though. Her death only gave him another reason to leave. A bad part of me hates her for bailing out and leaving me, but I know that she couldn’t help it really. I miss her so so much.”
– That probably took me longer than the 10 minutes, but I can’t remember.
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