Craving inspiration? Here, you will find prompts, triggering subjects, and featured work from One Lit Place writers that can be used to generate new ideas.
The form will show itself: the below may take you into story, essay, poetry…
“I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.”
~ Flannery O’Connor
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Without much thinking, what would you title this photo?
Once you have a title, write for 15 minutes and see where your unconscious mind takes you.
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The following three photographs are from Greg Price, writer, photographer, professor.
Gregory Price: Art, Design & Photography | Redouble
Take these photos and run…
Narrative to Music
What book would you put a 10-song playlist to? How would the music inform the music in a new translation of its own?
The Mind/Body Connection
Many writers know there is a mind-body connection between walking/running/swimming and writing. For others, it’s showering or gardening. See what Jay Baron Nicorvo does with his running practice: https://www.pw.org/writers_recommend/jay_baron_nicorvo
When/where do you think best?
Bad Advice from Good Writers
Today, I ran into a good article about bad advice from writers (http://lithub.com/on-terrible-writing-advice-from-famous-writers/)
Some of the bad advice is so bad it’s hilarious:
“Include a beautiful woman with raven locks and porcelain skin, preferably quite young, and let her die tragically of some unknown ailment.”
–Edgar Allan Poe
“Write only when you have something to say.”
(well, how the heck will you know when that is if you don’t write?)
This last one may be the worst of them all:
“Don’t go into great detail describing places and things.”
The writer of the article, Danielle Dutton, says, and what of “Woolf and her gorgeous “Kew Gardens” (“From the oval shaped flower-bed there rose perhaps a hundred stalks spreading into heart-shaped or tongue-shaped leaves half way up and unfurling at the tip red or blue or yellow petals marked with spots of colour raised upon the surface; and from the red, blue or yellow gloom of the throat emerged a straight bar, rough with gold dust and slightly clubbed at the end. The petals were voluminous enough to be stirred by the summer breeze, and when they moved, the red, blue and yellow lights passed one over the other, staining an inch of the brown earth beneath with a spot of the most intricate colour”), so thick with visual description it seems almost to become a garden itself?
Your prompt: pick something so small so overlook able you might not see it were you not prompted to spend attention and time engaging with it, and describe it in Woolf-ian detail. Let yourself enjoy that thing, the words you use, the essence of it.