Construction zone

Dust. Banging. Sawing. It’s a construction zone around here. This brings out the curious. My alley is now a major travel route for people wishing to sneak a peek at whatever is going on behind my house.

The owner of the rental next door has been over twice, more than I’ve seen him in three years, acting like he’s doing things to his property, but really checking out what I’m doing next to him. The street is . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “construction zone.”

Choice coffee

The certified sustainably grown choice coffee was a couple of bucks more than my usual choice. But I got it anyway. Just like I decided on the bamboo floor instead of wood from trees. If consumers don’t buy the sustainable products, manufacturers won’t be able to continue making them. The power of the dollar in action in my very own hands. The only influence I have . . .

Please leave a comment wth your first 50 works on the topic “choice coffee.”

Spring Fever

In the midst of an afternoon letdown I’d rather attribute to spring fever than growing old, I sat down to do the accounts. I couldn’t concentrate well enough to add 7+8, so I soon abandoned the books and wandered over to the coffee shop on the corner.

As I mulled whether to have a chocolate covered biscotti with the coffee, a kid on a bike careened around the corner. . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “spring fever.”

Georgetown

Surrounded by the folds and humps of the Rocky Mountains, Georgetown was beautiful on that long ago summer day. Craftspeople lined the main street, peddling their wares. I bought a sand candle and admired the pottery. We wandered through the old opera house and ate Eggs Benedict at an outdoor cafe.

The mountains were magical that day, light and shadow playing among the trees. But I was happiest just to be with her . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “Georgetown.”

Interview

It was a big interview. There were the normal number of administrators, but there were teachers and parents in on it, too. Part of the qualification seemed to involve understanding some sort of hand signal the parents were making. Apparently it related to football. Should I admit I didn’t know anything about football? Should I suggest that football didn’t have anything to do with what I was supposed to teach? Interviews make me nervous anyway, but this was way beyond anything I could . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “interview.”

California Girl

I register sun-streaked hair,
Ribbed stretch pants–knee length,
Frilly blue velvet shirt,
Bizarre sunglasses that hide the eyes,
Leather brown skin crinkled like seersucker
And I think, a California girl,
Before I see the cowboy boots.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “California girl.”

Expert

Lori watched Jeff adjust the skis and settle into the water. Lori was eager to get the boat moving and cool herself down a bit in the stifling heat. Jeff signaled his readiness and Lori moved the throttle. Jeff rose to skim the surface of the water with expert grace.

She quickly took the boat away from the congestion around the docks and headed for the open water glimmering invitingly in the center of the lake. She glanced back at Jeff and saw him swerve suddenly. He dropped the rope . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “expert.”

First 50 Words and Writing Prompts

For one reason or another, this blog has found some new readers and writers of late. I thought it might be time to review what this blog is all about.

The purpose of the blog is to supply a writing prompt and invite you to write something about it. I ask you to hold it to about 50 words here, and finish it elsewhere if you feel you’ve got something going. The fact that I write something about the prompt should in no way limit what you write about the prompt. You can write anything the prompt suggests to you.

Some people like to follow along with whatever I’ve started and add to it. That’s fine, and a fun challenge for me. Some people like to take their own approach and make the prompt uniquely theirs. That’s fine, too. When you use writing practice in a group, each result is unique with the same prompt sending writers in all sorts of directions.

If I write something that’s fiction and you want to write a poem, that’s fine. If I write about something real and you want to write a fairy tale, that’s fine. When I give you a prompt, such as “butterscotch,” just make your mind a blank and start writing. See what happens. That’s what writing practice is and that’s what your first 50 words should be about. Just write.

I have some references to books that might help you with writing practice on the page called About First 50 Words if you’d like to explore using writing practice in your own life or with students.

Duck

Jerrod waddled like a duck, a handsome mallard, but still, a duck. “Why are you walking like that?” Marisa said.

“I got mugged today.” Jerrod sat with an agonized moan. “They hurt me. And they took my money and my iPod.”

“You got mugged?” Marisa could hardly believe her ears. Jerrod was 6 foot 2 and weighed about 240. Who would mug a man like that? . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “duck.”

Gingerbread

“So we were at that place off Burnet Rd., you know, the one with the gingerbread pancakes, when he waltzes in the door.” I paused in my storytelling to prop a foot up on the bridge over Barton Creek and retie my shoe.

“I was surprised. Shocked, really. You’d think the secret service or the FBI or somebody would have cleared out the place, but no, he just showed up and came in.”

Jan, my walking buddy, asked, “So then what happened?” . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “gingerbread.”