“Okay, so a noun is a person, place or thing.” The teacher wrote noun on the white board. “Now,” she asked, “what is a verb?”
Beyoncé, the class brain, raised her hand. “I’m a verb,” she said. Before the teacher could object, Beyoncé said, “I’m an action. I’m running, skipping, dancing, bouncing. I’m a verb.”
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic, “I’m a verb.”
Words are old-fashioned. Everything is visual now. Everything is images. Words take too much time. Now it’s Instagram, Snapchat, quick video, the preview, the first look. Words, reading, long thoughts are anachronisms from a bygone era. TL;DR is today’s style – we can’t even use actual words to express the thoughts, we use abbreviations.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “words.”
“All right, folks, listen up.” The editor mounted the rolling stairs leading to the magic pencil ride. “Just a few reminders before you strap in for the ride. First, there are no guarantees about what you will write after your ride. Second, the story you see on the ride may not be in your usual genre. Finally, be sure you tighten your seat belt securely. It’s a wild ride.”
He looked over the motley group of writers below him. “Any questions.” There were none, so he shouted, “All aboard,” and stepped out of the way.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “all aboard.”
New rule: no more driving the car in a creative trance. No more writing scenes in your head about fictional people while behind the wheel. That means, when inspiration hits, I have to pull over somewhere, stop the car, type on the iPad until the moment passes, and then drive when I’m attending to reality once again.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “stop, drop, and write” or on some topic suggested by the image.
“I just bumped the garage door a b-bit,” he said. “It barely bent.”
“That sounds like the bad news to me,” I said, getting to my feet and dusting the dirt off my hands.
“Well,” he shuffled his feet in a parody of agony, “the bad news is actually that the door is stuck half way open because Tony wanted to see if it would still work.”
I tried to level him with a stare, but realized he has grown taller than me. “Let’s stroll down there and I’ll take a look. Do Tony’s folks know?”
. . .
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “the bad news.”
I was on my knees in the dirt planting lettuce when my 16-year-old found me. He seemed a little disheveled. I sat back on my heels at looked at him.
“The good news,” he said, “is that I didn’t go though anything but the door.”
“Uh huh.” Warily, I asked, “What door would that be?”
“Tony’s garage door,” he answered. “But it isn’t as bad as it sounds. See, . . . ”
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “the good news.”
A gorgeous woman walked into my office. She looked about 40, dark hair, dark eyes, luscious light brown skin. She wore a skirt that flipped up around the bottom and a blouse with a scooped neck. She wore very high heels. She looked like she was born to salsa dance with a handsome man beside her.
I knew how to salsa dance.
“Hi,” I said. “How can I help you?” She came up to the counter that separated us. Before she had a chance to open her mouth, I said, “Would you like to go salsa dancing on Friday night?”
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “salsa.”
Many decades ago, when I was in high school, we learned to waltz and square dance in P.E. class. Dancing was deemed that essential by the school system. There I was, a very tall girl, prancing about the gym floor with boys a foot shorter than me, making square patterns of footsteps in 3 quarter time. But you know what? If you asked me to waltz today, I bet I could do it.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “waltz” or on some topic suggested by the image.
I remember a great day with the family, running around Austin and having fun. We stopped at Amy’s Ice Cream to both enjoy the ice cream and appreciate the antics of the help behind the counter.
Loud music was playing. The younger members of the family got up and danced an abandoned jitterbug right there in the ice cream store. A beautiful memory.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “jitterbug.”
There’s that certain Taylor Swift song – you know the one – that makes me jump up and dance. I can’t stay where I belong when that beat begins. My old bones respond to the rhythm in ways I can’t control.
You know, some of us around here were dancers in past lives. We may be past our prime, but we can still have a good time. I’m not the only one who gets wound up by Taylor Swift.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “dance” or on some topic suggested by the image.