Today’s a great day to write a warm-up story before StoryADay
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Today’s prompt
Write a story inspired by this image
Remember: If you’re planning to write a LOT of stories this month, they’re going to be short, often Flash Fiction (fewer than 1000 words). That means your story’s scope has to be narrow but deep.
You can’t tell the story of this person’s life, just the story of this moment. Everything else, you can hint at.
Warm Up – 5 minutes
Look around around your space and picking out details. Think about things you can see, touch, hear, smell, and yes, even taste.
Spend five minutes writing descriptions of several of those things. Try to find new ways to describe elements that have clichés attached to them: for example, don’t say “the computer fan purred like a kitten”, instead say something like “the white noise from my computer’s fan utterly failed to mask the sounds of my mother crashing around in the kitchen below.” (Or something better that comes from your unique brain and experiences).
Invite the reader into the sensation with your words.
Brainstorm – 5 minutes
This picture depicts a moment in this person’s life.
- What are they looking for (what do they desire)?
- What are they anticipating is about to happen and why?
- What will change for them if they gets what they want?
- How many thoughts will run through their mind as they looks out of this window?
- What actions do they take to distract themselves from whatever it is they’re anticipating?
- What has already happened, before they lean forward to look out of the window?
- What point of view and style of story will you choose to help readers inhabit this moment? A first-person stream of consciousness monologue? A slow, lyrical depiction of the moment? A more action driven scene that shows us all the things the main character does before, during and after this moment? A second-person reflection on what it is to wait or anticipate (“you stand at the window, bent at the waist, unaware of the dawn chorus in the long grass outside. All you can think about is…)
You can’t write about all of these things, but you can choose one, two or three and have them add up to a story (think of it like a puzzle for the reader to solve).
Discussion: How did you get on with your short story? How are you feeling now that the challenge is right around the corner?
🌟 Superstars Edge: You will hit bumps during the challenge. The difference is, the StoryADay Superstars writers have a place to land — to recover, to reset, to keep going. That’s why they finish. That’s why they grow. Join us!
Hi Julie,
We are on Day 3 of the challenge, and I am (for the first time in three years) up-to-date with writing DAILY. Thank you so much for offering this every year. Wish me luck that I can write SOMETHING every day, albeit maybe not a “Story A Day.”
I have even attempted a “Warm Up Story.” It’s not great, but I am dedicated to posting (nearly) every piece that I write for this challenge this year – to start putting my writing ‘out there’ – this year.
So, here it is (I would love to know what you and others think, please?) but please, be gentle 🙂
Thank you (all) in advance
Nina
XXX
FAMILY – For my Mum
As I gaze out of my window, I remember the day my father, weary but free, stepped back into my life after two years as a prisoner of war. The lake was always so still, unlike the day my father returned home to us, two years after the end of the First World War. It was overwhelming, almost surreal joy with slight disbelief that this was happening.
I spotted him first…
[comment clipped to protect the author’s intellectual property – JD]
Hi, Julie and Other Friends,
Lovely to be back again. I got the email late in the evening and didn’t have much time to write a nice one. So, let me be honest with you all. I am not sure myself if I have been able to convey the message across through my story.
Your feedback therefore, will be much appreciated. Here is my story for a starter. Good luck to all the other participants.
Cape Cod Morning for Sara
Whatever dreams of being a painter that Sara had were shattered once she had her first born Tina within a year of getting married to her high school crush, James. James could never live up to the promises he had held at school or the ones he had made to Sara. The best soccer player of St. Joseph ended up as a pathetic clerk in an office with a meagre, monthly pay that hardly helped him meet both ends. Sara never talked about her dream any more and took upon herself the laborious task of running the household.
It was her thirty-fourth birthday. James left office early for a change and made a visit to the Art Gallery inside Rabindra Sadan. James, who didn’t care much about paintings or painters for the matter, finally settled in front of the Section with “By Edward Hopper” written at the top. He remembered having heard about him from Sara during the school days.
James had been saving up all these years for a proper gift for Sara on her thirtieth birthday.
There were 3 unsold paintings to choose from, all by the same artist. James looked at all three with the interest of a seasoned agent. The first one was called “Room By The Sea”, the second “Night Hawks By The Sea”, and finally, the one up there at the extreme right end “Cape Cod Morning”. What surprised him enormously was the fact that they were all priced one thousand rupees!
“How much would the originals cost then?” James found himself pondering over the question. He finally decided on the last one. In this painting, a middle-aged woman in a pink frock is seen looking out the glass window. The sparkling sunlight on the bluish wall on the left contrasts with the dark, green trees and the golden grass that coveres the right half of the canvas.
“What’s there in the painting?” He couldn’t help asking aloud.
“Depends on who you’re buying it for.” The elderly woman wearing round gold-rimmed glasses, cried out from behind him.
Normally, shy by nature James looked down at the spotless floor of the Hall before answering : “It’s for my wife.” He deliberately refrained from telling her that Sara dreamt of being a painter once.
The woman with the round glasses pondered over his reply before asking, “Is she a painter?”
“She was or hoped to be one before our wedding. In fact, she was selected for a Course in a …. what’s the name of that Institute in France? Sorbonne? But she preferred to be a home-maker instead…” James stopped for a brief second before enquiring, “ Do you think she might be interested in this painting?”
“Sure. You may not be aware of it, young man, the reason Cape Cod Morning is held in such high esteem is not because what you get to see in the painting. But because of what is implied through it that an average viewer fails to notice. It implies the dichotomy between the apparent inner calm of the woman with the gravity of the world beyond.”
When James returned home that evening with the painting wrapped in colourful papers under his arm, Sara stepped aside having opened the door of their dingy den. James wished her “Happy Birthday” once more.
“Here’s a small gift for you, Dearest.” James handed her the wrapped parcel, smiling.
“Thank you, James. I only hope that you haven’t wasted your money by bringing a painting for me after all these years.” She quipped while unwrapping it. “Oh, James. You ought not to have taken the trouble and bought a packet of Nangrow for our youngest instead.” She spoke through the sparking tears coursing down her cheeks.
The end