Look around. Look within.
What do you know for sure? What can you swear is true? Beyond wishing and effort, what is real?
For the next writing prompt, we ask you for FIVE THINGS of which you are certain.
You may present them any way you like. A list. A story. A poem. However makes sense to you.
Please send your submissions to us through the Participate tab or at writeclubatlanta@gmail.com. Keep your words less than or equal to 1000 words and get them to us by MAY 15th.
For some, the thought of standing up in front of a blood thirsty crowd can be…intimidating. Sometimes, after you’ve done it, it’s hard to wait for the next time.
If you are one of our loyal fans who finds yourself drafting your own responses to our topics while stuck in congested traffic, waiting rooms or chronic depression, this is the prompt for you. If you think, “I can do that better than those clowns,” BRING. IT.
Your assignments as virtual combatants are below. Should you opt to play our home game, please choose a single topic from one of the bouts listed below and write up to 1000 words defending your topic. As you know, this piece can be fiction, essay or poetry.
Please send your works of genius to us at writeclubatlanta@gmail.com by April 3rd. You are welcome to submit on more than one topic, but please do so in separate pieces. Failure to do so will result in lifelong nightmares featuring the Time Timer and a ukulele.
Our bouts are as follows:
deep vs. shallow (oooooh)
heavy vs. light (ahhhhh)
safe vs. dangerous (eeeeee)
Are you ready to Write Club?
For reasons not worth exploring at this time, our next writing prompt was inspired by these guys. These characters have left an impression on some of us here at Write Club Atlanta. Quotes from the book (and the movie) are tattooed in our brains.
Please use one of the three quotes from S.E. Hinton’s novel listed below as the first line for a story, essay, song or poem. Stay under 1000 words, and–okay, I’ll say it–gold.
Send your works to us at writeclubatlanta@gmail.com or through our participate tab. Do so by March 6th. After that, ponder the sunset.
“I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.”
“I stared at the newspaper. On the front page of the second section was the headline: JUVENILE DELINQUENTS TURN HEROES.”
“Things are rough all over.”
We are inspired (again) by Narrative Urge. NU is writing a letter a day in 2013. That’s 365 handwritten missives.
You (most likely) are not Narrative Urge. Perhaps your hand cramps writing anything longer than a grocery list. It’s possible you are not completely sure how much a first class stamp is going for these days.
That’s okay. We support your mediocrity For this writing prompt we are asking you to type 1/365th as many letters as The Urge.
Write a letter. It can be of the “Dear John/Jane” variety. You can, for example, break up with your yoga instructor, two pack a day habit, or social media. It can be a cautionary or inspirational message to your future self or an apology or admonishment for your past self. It can be a real letter to us. Your family. Your beloved. The recipient can be living, dead or imaginary.
Rant. Plead. Start. Extinguish.
Send your end products to us at writeclubatlanta@gmail.com by January 31st. Keep them no longer than 1000 words.
P.S. You can use a pen name if you wish…or must.
Writers often have a favorite place to type or scribble. To erase or delete. A space where ideas seem to flow. Where it’s safe to fret–wondering if he or she will ever write another decent sentence or couplet. An area they are tied to creatively due to routine, superstition or necessity.
We want to play voyeur. Please submit descriptions or photos of your preferred writing venue.
Send your words and/or images to us at writeclubatlanta@gmail.com as you are inspired to do so. Barcaloungers to bar stools. Serenity to chaos. Share with us.
What’s this? Ah, yes. The Ghost of Writing Prompts Past…
Well, it’s roundabout that time of year… Time to visit with loved ones, grab a cup of wassail, gather around the fire, and bitch about how much you hate the magic of the holidays.
Be you Christian, Jew, Muslim, Atheist, or just Cranky, surely you have a humbug up your ass this time of year.
On our wishlist this season: Write us a fiction, or a poem, or an essay, all in the spirit of Scrooge. Perhaps you have a cautionary tale about Old Tannenbaum? A bone to pick with Good Saint Nick? A dirty Limerick about your childhood dreidel?
WE WANT TO HEAR IT.
Be brutal! This is no time to pull punches. And when you’re done, send it via our Participation Page.
Now: go and make merry. Or don’t. Whatever. We’re gonna go read some Kafka, or something.
The deadline is DECEMBER 16th. (The Mayan calendar thing won’t get you out of this one.)
“Brevity is the soul of wit.” Hamlet Act 2 Scene 2 Line 90
In today’s busy world, we don’t all have time to sit down and write the next great, American novel. Sometimes the 1000 words it takes to cover a 7 minute bout can seem daunting.
Your apathy and laziness have not gone unnoticed by our crew. We’ve decided to embrace the mediocrity and design a writing prompt just for you.
We give you Tweet-A-Novel prompt. Inspired by our word lovin’ brethren across the pond, we ask you to write a story in 140 characters or less. Not a summary of another novel or short-story. A fresh missive is our bidding.
Please submit your work to us at writeclubatlanta@gmail.com. Include a title if you wish. (This will not count as part of the tweet, but don’t do some bogus thing where you put stuff in the title that wouldn’t fit in the tweet, cuz that shit’s just weak.) Entries will be accepted until November 14th.
In the spooky spirit of All Hallows Eve, we at WRITE CLUB Atlanta are dressing up in old rags and wandering the dark boulevards. We have our virtual pillow cases ready to gather your tricks and treats.
We want your GHOST STORIES. Fact or Fiction. Literal or Figurative. Whether you’re haunted by the ghost of Fiorello LaGuardia or an old love that just won’t die, we want to read about it.
Send your wicked missives about what haunts you to writeclubatlanta@gmail.com by October 24th. If you make the Viceroy flinch, the Consigliere cower or the Marchioness tremble, we’ll publish it on our website.
Don’t sit in the dark and pretend you’re not home. Come play in the shadows with us.
While cleaning out our hallowed space at PushPush as we prepare for our new arena, we found a Write Club time capsule. We know not who placed it there or when. Rabid fan? Kind saboteur? Warrior poet? The Marchioness suggested it might be a Pandora’s Box or Arc of the Covenant thing, so we decided not to open it. The Consigliere thought it might contain whiskey, so we revised our policy.
Our humble Viceroy took to the stage, even though it was only the three of us, and read from the scraps of paper that spilled forth from the small box. Prophecy or history, we could not determine if we were being given a glimpse of the future or a hint of the past.
One crispy page detailed the gruesome overthrowing of the Overlord and the desire of the people to name a successor. Another scrap, on the back of a Zaxby’s receipt, offered a soliloquy on the beauty of having exactly enough ketchup for the number of fries one has. We could share more, but, aside from kittens, we prefer not to do that.
We were inspired to give you, our virtual and live audience members, work to do. We deliver the following two prompts for your consideration:
1. The Overlord has been dethroned. A campaign is on to name his replacement. Write a stump speech full of campaign promises to win over swing voters and determine the future of Write Club.
2. What is your unusual superpower? How is it useful, if at all? How’d you discover it? You get the gist.
Choose one. Write a piece on both. Keep it at or under 1000 words. Do so by October 4th. Email them to us atwriteclubatlanta@gmail.com. Watch our Facebook, Twitter and web pages for potential glory. Tell 5-7 people about Write Club.
In 1825, The United States Postal Service started up a strange little place where undeliverable mail went to die. This place came to be known as the Dead Letter Office, and operates to this day. Tens of millions of letters and packages appear there each year, are sifted through, and destroyed.
What does this have to do with you? We’ll tell you.
For this month’s prompt, we’d like from you a letter, written to a person, object, or entity unlikely to send you a response. Examples? McSweeney’s Internet Tendency does this sort of thing all the time. Have something to say to Dostoyevsky? An ancestor? The Color Blue? (e)Mail it to us. We’ll publish.
To light a fire under your ass, we’ll set a deadline: The Write Club Dead Letter Office closes for Business on JUNE 1, 2012.
Hello, Writeclubbers-
Shakespeare, in his infinite wisdom, once mentioned (somewhat ironically) that “Brevity is the soul of wit,” and we couldn’t agree more. And after reading Julie O’Hora’s recent contribution to the site, we had an idea for a tidy little prompt, and hope you play along.
That’s why we’re introducing the 100 WORDS PROMPT: Write us a story. It can be fiction, or non-fiction. The only restriction is that it is EXACTLY 100 WORDS LONG. Not 99 words. Not 101. We have the tools to check. We will be judicious about hyphenated words. Title not included in word count.
Submissions will be published via writeclubatlanta.com, and we will even select a few to add to our upcoming 100 Words Podcast.
Please send your submissions to writeclubatlanta@gmail.com, with your name, title, and story in the body of the e-mail.
Now go, and be brief.
As if the winter weren’t miserable enough already, it seems as though the period between Christmas and Valentine’s Day actually constitutes a Break-up Season, where 4 out of 10 admit to rethinking their relationships before having to pony up on another bout of forced gift giving. How sweet!
Also, there’s that whole making-promises-to-break-bad-habits mumbo jumbo that each New Year brings.
And the inevitable breaking that very same promise to one’s self mid-winter.
So we say: Fuck it. If we’re going to be miserable, we’re going to take you down with us.
We introduce to you THE BROKEN PROMISES PROMPT.
Write us a story of a terrible break-up. Or about that time that Daddy didn’t buy you the pony he said he would. Or that time you screwed the pooch and let everybody down even though you swore that this time would be different. Or write a fiction or a poem or a list of woes.
We want your disappointment. We want your rage. We want your sorrow. And we want you to send it to our Participate Page.
We’ll publish what gets us. Get crackin’, now. Don’t break our hearts.
Well, it’s roundabout that time of year… Time to visit with loved ones, grab a cup of wassail, gather around the fire, and bitch about how much you hate the magic of the holidays.
Be you Christian, Jew, Muslim, Atheist, or just Cranky, surely you have a humbug up your ass this time of year.
On our wishlist this season: Write us a fiction, or a poem, or an essay, all in the spirit of Scrooge. Perhaps you have a cautionary tale about Old Tannenbaum? A bone to pick with Good Saint Nick? A dirty Limerick about your childhood dreidel?
WE WANT TO HEAR IT.
Be brutal! This is no time to pull punches. And when you’re done, send it via our Participation Page.
Now: go and make merry. Or don’t. Whatever. We’re gonna go read some Kafka, or something.
In honor of Kill Your Darlings’ Seven Deadly Sins Night, we here at WRITE CLUB Atlanta want to know: What sin do you like to belly up to when nobody’s looking? Take your pick:
Lust
Wrath
Greed
Envy
Gluttony
Pride
Sloth
And when you have, write us up to (but please not over) 1,000 words on it. And then, what the hell, why not submit that bad boy?
We’ll announce a snazzy prize. We will. Get on it, folks. Your very soul may depend on it.
The other night, your Most Humble Viceroy, Mr. Tecosky, received an envelope in the mail. The contents of said envelope:
A call to arms.
-A letter of introduction, an invitation to play. A clue:
“a site to see (haiku clue)
robotic cranes dance
in singapore. in taiwan
appears tornadoes!”
-A ten dollar bill.
-A separate slip of paper. Possibly another clue, possibly a prompt. We’ll return to this momentarily.
A bit of internet sleuthing produced more mystery: These letters are all over the place. They have been found in bookstores, bars, and parks. They have been sent to authors, reporters, interested parties. We are pleased and honored to be among their ranks.
We’ll not spoil the fun of discovering how far down the rabbit hole goes; that’s what Google is for. Go out, and seek this story. Seek others in the know. We’ve already had excellent conversations with friendly strangers about this. It’s just fun. If you find anything, let us know.
And now, the prompt, printed on a small slip of paper. Your Magnificent Consigliere Mr. Johns discovered its origin: It’s from Karin Slaughter’s Fallen. Go and buy it.
The Prompt:
“64. She wanted to open the refrigerator and see food that she didn’t have to buy. She wanted to turn on the air conditioner in the summer without worrying about having to pay the bill. She wanted to sleep until noon, then watch TV all day.”
Take this. Using it, write us a story. Or a character sketch. Or a comic strip. Or a poem. A memory of horses. Length is no object.
Send it to writeclubatlanta@gmail.com, or through our “Participate” bar. We’ll read it. The winner will receive a ten dollar bill (pictured above) and will be published right here on writeclubatlanta.com.
CONTEST ENDS OCTOBER 11.
Go ahead. Follow your narrative urge, Writeclubbers.
Oh, hello.
We’re already feeling nostalgic for those early days of WCA, and so we’d like you to tackle what our June Combatants tackled before you. Here is your prompt for the month:
FANTASY v. REALITY.
Give us your best defense of either against the other. 500 to 1,000 words. Be brutal.
And hand it over to us here.