Last week I posted about how I want to start being a bit less shy as a writer and share some of what I write with the world more. So, in that regard, I decided to start doing writing prompts on Mondays of each week. I’ll list out the prompt and include my writing in regards to it. I am hoping that the prompt itself will help those who need a boost with some ideas for writing, and show all of you my own writing process a little bit.
You are all welcome to share your responses to the prompts here, if you feel comfortable doing so. **All work is under copyright of its authors. I don’t think I’ll set a word count – just write until you don’t feel like writing anymore. A paragraph, a page, a book. Who knows where this will lead. 😉 And I’m making it a rule, at least for myself, that none of it will be edited aside from capitalization and titles.
Without further ado, here is the first writing prompt to start things out –
Your character (male/female, young/old, doesn’t matter) is sitting in a library, studying, when a book mysteriously falls from the shelf nearby. The character picks the book up and –
My response –
Bradley discovers it’s a cook book on low-fat Spanish recipes. He glances up to the spot the book once held and sees nothing out of the ordinary. The book had been firmly cushioned between a Rachael Ray volume and a book on wedding cakes. The book couldn’t have fallen out on its own, could it?
He takes the book back to his table, moving aside the tome on comic book heroes he had been studying most of the morning. A quick glance around the library told him there was nobody else in the vicinity. Who would be in the library on a Saturday morning when it was bright and sunny outside? No, people were in the park, flying kites and feeding the ducks.
Something had led him to the library though, right? He had a dream last night of his late wife, Isabella. They were in a garden, spending precious moments he only dreamed of – literally. Bradley shook the thought and cracked open the recipe book. It was then that the tears came to his eyes, the pain came back to his heart.
There, in the front of the book, was a dedication to Isabella. It had been given to Bradley and Isabella on their wedding day, and now Bradley remembered Isabella telling him months ago she was going to donate some of her books to the very library he was sitting in on a Saturday morning.
She was there with him, watching over him, wanting to spend a precious moment with him within the walls of books.