Exercise 1: Get to the Juicy Stuff
These prompts can be helpful to get below the surface in your storytelling…
- The thing I don't want to tell you is…
- The thing I can't say is…
- I'm the only one who knows this secret…
- I never got a chance to explain to her/him that…
- That one time when I couldn't stop crying…
Prompt 1 Example
The thing that I don't want to tell you is that I'm scared. I'm always so afraid. I used to not be this way. I used to be bold, nearly fearless. I never gave a second thought to my own mortality or all the dangers looming around the corner in the modern world. All that changed when the world got turned upside down. How blessed we are to have retained some of our more animal instincts. That deep, abiding, animal presence in my brain. That's what's keeping me alive now.
The way things went, when they changed, no one saw coming. Well, some of us saw it coming, but we were roundly dismissed. The nice people in society thought we were being unreasonable. They labeled us crazy. We were sounding the alarm, but they were so comfortable, too ensconced in their modern conveniences to be bothered with preparing or fighting, or even questioning where we were headed.
So, here we are. The drones have taken over and I'm huddled here, scared like an animal. I'm scared all the time. There is no comfort, there is no peace. There is no future. There is only now, and this raw anxiety that kept the human race going for so many eons before culture peaked, destroying us all.
Exercise 2: Two Words – "spaceship", "mystery machine" (from Scooby‑Doo)
Craft a story with those two words.
My favorite memory of my time with Robbie was dropping acid and listening to Crystal Castles in his tiny car. His car became a spaceship and we blasted through the cosmos, giggling like fiends, parked behind the dilapidated house he was squatting in. We were thick as thieves back then, cruising around like the gang in the Mystery Machine in Scooby‑Doo. Just looking for things to get into.
Now that I think about it, that's really my only good memory of Robbie. The rest of them were too clouded by Bombay Sapphire and the hurt of finding out I'd been his side piece for years. How did he have the time or energy to keep up appearances for so long? He always texted back. I saw him most weekends. How did he keep both us women secret?
The last time I talked to him, he called me drunk from the hospital while his wife was in labor.
Exercise 3: Start in the Middle
These prompts try to get you to start your story in the middle (when the action has already begun). Inspired by What If? by Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter.
- The tree that had fallen on our house wasn't our tree.
- I didn't want to go to the wedding in the first place.
- The way I got the bloody nose is different than you think.
Sample Opening (Prompt 2)
I didn't want to go to the wedding in the first place. Margot had wheedled me into attending, enticing me with the promise of other sane and handsome singles. I watched the mayhem unfold, standing there in my scratchy dress, tight shoes, clutching my cranberry soda. I picked a terrible weekend to quit drinking.
The chaos on the dance floor spilled over onto the tables that ringed the parquet floor. People were shrieking and throwing their drinks, picking up and waving chairs around, diving under tables, scrambling atop tables.
The bear stood on its hind legs and roared.
How did it even get in here? I wondered aloud. I was trying to will myself invisible, too shocked to do anything else.
Exercise 4: Dialogue
Get some compelling dialogue into your story! This also forces you to write an actual scene.
- The first thing she/he said to me was, "…"
- I couldn't believe it when she/he said, "…"
Sample Dialogue
The first thing he said to me was: "Can you believe they set the building on fire? Like on purpose?"
"What, where did you hear that?" I questioned him, a little incredulous.
"Oh c'mon man, everyone can see through their bullshit. It's obvious that the fire was intentional. This wasn't some vagrant. This was clearly planned. Don't tell me you buy their shit."
I sat there, stunned for a second before I could respond. "Well, I'd rather leave the arson accusations up to the fire marshal, or whoever. But I'll bite. Why would they want to burn the building down?"
He scoffed. "Heh. Where do you want me to start, chickadee?"