A picture Creates A Thousand Words

Each day I will post something different. This section is for things to get the brain moving. If you have something to share that can be a starting point for a poem, story or tale then let me know and we will post it up.


Writing Prompt 2* I woke up*

Today’s writing prompt is fairly simple. Imagine for a moment it is the middle of summer and when you left your house in the morning this is what you opened your door too. Tell the story of how this happened. Be creative and crazy with your tale.

Part two- When you are done telling the story of how this happened describe the street as the sun comes out. What do you notice as the ice begins to melt? What does it sound like? How do you feel about everything melting?


As always if you find yourself going off into another direction don’t fight it. Write like water, fluid and flexible. I would love to see the works you are creating from these prompts so by all means please send them to me so I can post them.



Jazz Alley (Damien Davies)

The back alley lit briefly with the flick of thumb to Zippo. No fancy tricks this time, only the soft click of the lighter opening and brief smell of butane. It had been a rough crowd for the first set. Less people than usual and those that did come wanted the standards to be played rather than what the soul asked for. All those visitors in search of the real music, with no idea that it will never be found beneath stage lights over fruity drinks.

Smoke floated with the grace of ballroom dancers in the weak light thrown off by the propped-open back door.  With the square hanging off the corner of my mouth I open the case at my feet and take out my baby.  Pull a worn bandana from my back pocket and began to polish the curves and angles of an old and battered Martin.

While my hands follow their usual pattern of polishing my mind roams about like a kid exploring the woods. The horn didn’t need to be polished but it helps me settle before i play. The weathered trumpet is a  Martin, best you can get, and it didn’t matter to any of them tonight. Now when I say Martin I mean real Martin, pre RMC days. Yessir money can’t buy a better instrument. The only problems with this type of horn are the ones the player brings with him.

Grinding the tail end of my smoke beneath the heel of my shoe I twist on the mouth piece and bring her up to my lips. The notes that come out are pure blue, solemn and sad. It is the sound of dark alleys and cold nights, forbidden romance and unrequited love. The type of music only done justice through being played with no one listening on late August nights after the world has gone to sleep. It is not a music meant to be heard by anyone other than those who live outside the normal hours of life. It is the song of single mothers just getting off the swing shift, late night cab drivers and those without a place to call home.

The last few notes bleed off into the night, weaving themselves into the sound of street-sweepers and train-yards. The click of latches stands in for applause and the light beckons me back inside. There are tourists waiting to be force fed their ideas of jazz in large baby food heaps of popular standard tunes. It is not real jazz, but it is a living. The alley will always be waiting after all, and that last cocktail waitress did hold on to my hand longer than she needed to when taking my money. Perhaps after the show a different kind of music can be made in those late night hours.

Writing exercise (courtesy of Young Voices Be Heard)

Exercise (goals)

Every writer should have goals. Write a list of yours. Make a list of three goals for this week. Three goals for this month. Three goals for this year. Make the goals challenging enough that you are stretching your limits, but not so challenging that you don’t achieve them. Once your goals are set print them out and tape them up somewhere you will see them every day.

Writing prompt*I remember*

This is a great prompt for when you are experiencing writers block. Writers block is often a product of our inner critic doing it’s best to keep us from writing more. Sometimes it is the result of being too caught up in what the finished product looks like. We can become so obsessed as writers to produce something that lives up to our standards that we refuse to start anything.

The answer to this is to write without a destination. To enjoy the journey of writing rather than be concerned about where that journey will take you.  “Quanity produces Quality. If you only write a few things, you are doomed.” Ray Bradbury

Alright let’s get started.

Tell  a story from when you were a child.   Make it detailed.  What did things look like? Smell like, taste like, feel like, sound like?  Make it a memory that’s small. No big events. Something like a trip to the movies or a day at the beach. Beginning middle and end are the key points to any story. This is a good one just to get the writing mind going. When your done or if you start getting inspired let yourself write whatever comes out even if none of it connects. Remember that for the purposes of this prompt we are not concerned with the end result.

Part two: Once you have told the story from your point of view switch the voice to that of a parent or uncle or grandparent. Tell it as if they were telling it to your prom date or future boyfriend/girlfriend. Tell it like they would, exaggerating all of the details.

Have fun.