15 Creative Writing Prompts

1. Ephemera – make a list of items unique to a period of history. Use this list in a poem or story about that same time period.

2. Food for thought – open up a cupboard or your pantry. Observe the food. Write a poem about what significance these items have in your life.

3. Outsider looking in – go to a place or attend an event you wouldn’t normally go to. Observe it, but don’t take notes. Remember as much as you can, and write about it.

4. From your balcony – stand on your balcony or your porch (or your yard or street if you don’t have a either), and watch what goes on. Write about what you see.

5. Words – write a poem using at least seven of the following ten words: automobile; ecstasy; freedom; detour; hunger; connection; conversations; borderline; harmony; alleyways.

6. Mixtape – pull up a playlist you or a friend has made. Write a piece evoking the moods or memories the songs conjure up.

7. Traits – Think of positive traits in people you love and respect. List at least five. Create a character who has the exact opposite of at least three of these five traits (add two opposite traits for every additional five positive ones).

8. Long-lost friend – think about a friend you haven’t seen in a long time. Free-write how you feel about them at this moment.

9. Songsmith – rewrite a song you know really well and make it more personal, but use the first line of the chorus as your starting point (but not word-for-word, obviously).

10. Think of a historical figure and put them in your generation. What do they do for work? How are they different? How are they similar to who they were? Free-write about this.

11. Think of a natural disaster. Could be an earthquake, a flood, volcanic eruption, anything like this. Jot down images and sensations related to this weather event. Now write about something that happened in your own life, tying it in with the disaster.

12. Write a story in ten sentences. Doesn’t matter how long the sentences are, just can’t be more than ten of them.

13. Fish out of water – write something completely different from what you typically write. If your thing is vampire stories, write detective fiction. If you do poems about heartache, write a piece about a happy moment.

14. Remember a time someone said something that made you happy. Write down everything you can think of, and use it to write a piece.

15. Write a poem between five and ten lines.

My whole world will collapse and I will die.

Anyone out there have anxiety?

Show of hands! Okay, so, everyone then? Good to know! I’m glad none of us are alone here!

You’re as worried about reading this article as I am about accidentally using copyrighted images, aren’t you?

Have you ever found yourself in a state of panic, gripped by sheer terror and locked-down with fear, with no rhyme or reason to explain it?

Have you ever experienced the all-consuming fear that hits when you know you’ve fucked up, but you don’t know that you’ve fucked up?

Have you just known that something isn’t quite right, but there isn’t really any way to fully explain it (at least enough to get your hamster-wheel-spinning brain to calm the fuck down)?

You take stock of everything… Your job, your finances, your debt, relationships, general life satisfaction and self-worth. Oh, yeah. Right.

That’s why you can’t chill.

That’s why you have to move your leg faster than a muscle car on a straight stretch of desert land in the summer.

And that’s why you’re feeling like a walking talking nihilistic ball of nerves and electricity blues!

You got this. Or maybe you don’t. Who knows. Who cares. All you want to do is settle down, to breathe, to think about it all in a productive, alternate-perspective manner.

But you can’t. Your anxious. Classic causes lead to classic symptoms lead to classic desires.

You chuckle and want to scream out loud, but you’re at work or in a crowded shopping district. So you sigh and settle for its internal cousin. Then you take a breath and trudge on. You’re a trooper for doing so.

what the hell have I been up to

What have I been up to? Hmmm.

I’ve been writing like crazy, and submitting, too! Nothing like feeling so involved with my own failure. It’s as if I just stepped out of a car to push traffic ahead during a roadblock.

But yeah, I’ve sent out nine poems in the past few days – which, if you know anything about writers, means I’ve done far more than that.

If I were euphoric I’d be wary I’m manic. But, nah, I’m good.

Had a weird bout with depression a little over a week ago. That sucked, probably got over 40 hours of sleep in two and a half days. So that’s especially why I’ve been absent here, if anyone even reads this thing.

Anyways, I dont have much more to say. Here’s some photo art I made on my phone though!

Stay cool, friends!

Ferret Fun

Story time.

I used to hate ferrets.

I used to hate ferrets, but a period of years changes a person’s predilections.

A period of years and experiences, a period of friends, and a period of lovers. Everything alters you, shapes you, gets you primed for the future.

This is a pretentious way to say, “I eventually changed my mind.”

This is not my ferret, but my roommate’s. I say “roommate,” rather than “friend,” because I live with him, so it just seems more efficient when bringing him up, as opposed to most people I’m on good terms with.

Anyway, that’s a mere disclaimer – the fine print at the bottom of an ad, the text that precedes a really violent show about sex work and drug dealing.

You see, where ferrets used to elicit any number of responses ranging from indifference to outright hatred (for reasons I’ve long forgotten) – nowadays, I lose my shit over them, to much the same degree as I do over cats and dogs. Especially cats. I fucking love cats oh my God!!!

They make cute little squeaky noises when they sleep. That’s honestly the cutest thing in the world to me. Though I also truly enjoy messing with them when they are awake, which – as I’m finding more and more now that this guy has been sleeping in my room – isn’t as long as I thought when I first moved in.

Anyway, I’ve also been reading quite a bit about them. They’re fascinating creatures, really.

A website with some fun-to-read and cool info on these dudes is http://www.friendlyferret.com. I recommend going there to learn more.

I guess that’s all for now. Peace.

Update

Sorry it’s been awhile since I updated this. I swear I’m trying to keep consistent, despite all evidence to the contrary.

So I guess the proper question to ask is: what the hell have I been up to? How have I been occupying my time?

Let’s start slow… Been working on getting sober. So far I’ve made it more than a month (maybe by an added week, I’ve kind of made it a thing to not really keep track. Triggers and all), and I have to tell you, aside from boredom and a slight gnawing desire in the earliest days to “have just one,” it hasn’t been half bad.

I have a room now, though. Due to a snafu between my two roommates (that I won’t get into here), I have a room. Not half bad, for me at least.

I’ve replaced my beer tooth with a soda tooth. Apologies to my Pittsburgh peeps. You’ve all been ever-so-inviting and kind to let me mark your turf with my scuffed-up shoes, but I just can’t abide by your debauched use of the word “pop.”

Pop is a sound, motherfuckers. Deal with my Central PA vernacular invading your careless, tenacious grip on words and stuff.

I’ve begun submitting work to various publications again. Still have yet to hear back from the magazine I wrote a piece for, though. Emailed them, but no real reply. Who knows, perhaps today?

I know the main editor went on vacation, so I just gotta give them time. Ugh, my anxiety prevails. I need to know, need to have control over the situation.

What else, hmm?

I guess the only other thing I could add is that my meds need either adjusted or changed. I’m not sure which, but then, I’m not a doctor. It’s just that, for some reason unknown to me (did I mention I’m not a doctor?), the fucking things quit working.

I had this epic manic attack about a week ago. That’s the best way I can describe it. It only lasted several hours – which is insanely quick for such a thing – but I felt crazy, lots of energy. Basically just hypomania, but anytime I’ve had what I would describe as hypomania… It wasn’t that intense.

I have an appointment on the 25th, so that’s something in the way of positivity. Always need to progress, to get better, to keep pushing forward in the name of living as well as one can.

Be well, folks! I’m out, catch ya later!!!!

Some maxims to make your life better.

Don’t read everything you believe.

Always keep a wad of chewing gum in your mouth. If you’re unable to talk, no one will know you’re an idiot.

Smoking is good for the environment – because it kills people, and everyone knows humans are the worst thing to ever happen to nature.

Pictured: someone who actually cares about the environment, unlike Becky with her vegan how-to videos

If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Except when it comes to disarming bombs or skydiving. You probably won’t be able to try more than once.

Live your life how you want to. Binge an entire season of the latest Netflix show. Eat the wax on those little spheres of cheese. Steal your ex’s doorknob when you break up. No one can tell you what to do!

If a woman in New York City gets naked in the street and calls it performance art, she’ll probably get a rave review in the Village Voice, but if you do it in your hometown after two bottles of tequila, you’ll probably get arrested. But at least you’ll be in the paper, too!

Keep your friends close, and any rich relatives over eighty-nine closer.

Pictured: someone you should be spending A LOT more time with, you ungrateful little shit

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. But so does having no medical insurance and a terminal illness.

It’s all fun and games… Til you play Twister with kitchen utensils. Then it’s somebody’s kink.

Here are some foods I just came up with.

This is the century of the foodie. Every blogger and Instagrammer on the planet seems to be giving hot tips and insider looks into the culinary creations of the century.

These really are strange times, and in that spirit of invention under the sheen of high-def cameras, I present to you some blessed creations I have come up.

Feel free to make these delectable dishes yourself and tell me what they’re like. Heck, feel free to play around with what I’ve given you – it’s yours to do with it as you wish.

PB n J w/ American cheese and pickles on white bread

A very long Frankfurter, topped with strawberries and sour cream, served between a crepe

A Bloody Mary… but instead of vodka and tomato juice, it’s beer and ketchup

Aquafaba soup… Drain several cans of beans, discard the beans, and mix the liquid together in a small pot. Heat. Salt to taste.

Hair pizza. Make sure the hair is crispy. No one cares about the pizza. Throw it out.

Garbage plate. Not a nice serving of wings or random appetizers, thrown together on a plate at your local bar. Fuck no. Life is too short for that sort of bullshit. Literal garbage. Whatever is in your trash can at this particular moment.

Mash up some corned beef hash and make a nice Jell-O mold for your next family gathering. You hate most of them anyway. This won’t make it worse. I promise.

Think you need to go to some posh, gourmet place in a huge city to get the coolest burgers? Fuck that. That shit is for snobs.

Yeah. Like this guy. He probably sips craft beer and mansplains how plants work, or something.

All you have to do is walk down the street, and scrape the first piece of squirrel, or possum, or chipmunk, or cat, or even human being – and you could soon be home eating a burger no one else will be savoring.

Fuck those people paying $80,000 for one ounce of some cow named Naveah, who has been read all of Camus’ works and who only listens to Coltrane.

In fact, fuck Naveah. You’re better than her. Sip your Keystone and have another bite of raccoon.

Want these damn kids to have a truly memorable party? Try candyflip icing! You see, you morally deranged fuck, it’s like any old delicious icing, except it’s laced in LSD and MDMA!

Or don’t. Unless you want your kids to end up like this dude. Gross. He probably reeks of pot and quinoa. When was the last time he took a shower, anyway?

They already watch shows about weird animal characters with bright colors that help them memorize sounds.

Plus this stupid “band” is costing you $4000 an hour… Why not cut out the middle man and really help them learn why “A is for alligator?”

So there we are. Some new recipes for you to try!

Happy cooking!

Adventures in anxiety.

Hey y’all.

I have not been doing well.

Eh, I’m being a bit dramatic. I’m not “not doing well,” per se. My moods are pretty under control – I’m not as depressed as I used to be, and I haven’t noticed any real mania that I can write home about.

So that’s good, at least. But dammit if my anxiety isn’t just a constant companion. It may as well be my sidekick at this point in time.

As you’re aware if you’re a faithful reader of this blog (hi, if you’re reading!), I’m currently prescribed Neurontin for social anxiety.

I used to think it was working, was praying it was doing its thing. But over the past week, I have to confess, it just hasn’t been.

I can’t honestly tell you why. I’m not a doctor, and fuck if I even know what’s up with my own head. But I need something else.

Considering telling my psychiatrist that I need benzos (ya know, Xanax, Valium, Klonopin – those fun, “what the hell is going on” kind of drugs).

But there are a couple of fears here that leave me reticent to even cherish the thought of saying anything.

The first is my tendency toward addiction.

I’m an addict, which means I’ll use whatever I have – and not always in proper amounts. It’s scary to think I’d have something in my possession – at all times of the day – to use at my discretion.

But this is getting to the point where my issues are fucking with my job and interpersonal relationships. I can’t make it through a day without freaking out at least once over the smallest shit. Doesn’t matter what it is, if something doesn’t go 100% easy-breezy… it cripples me, at least for the short-term.

The second is my fear that I’ll not only be looked at as another addict trying to game the medical system to get a commmonly-abused medication, but I’ll be arrested for even asking.

How ironic is it that my desire to take charge of my life is even momentarily hindered by a belief that might only be paranoia? Like, can you be arrested for asking a question?

I’m not sure. But it happens. I guess that’s where it begins: the fact something has occurred causes me to not want to take chances? I’m reduced to a pacing ball of what-ifs, and I’m wearing out a hole in my shoe, walking in a circle.

So here we go. I don’t know what I’ll ultimately do… May just blurt it out impulsively, deal with the consequences later – seems to be the central theme of my life.

I don’t know what I’m gonna do, but I’ve gotta do something. This isn’t working.

For now, take it easy, and have one for me.

Cheers.

It’s been awhile. Here’s something new.

Wow.

I am not sticking to my original plan for this blog. Heck, even my concept for this hasn’t stuck. “Write about your experiences in a new city,” I thought to myself one night after a few shots of whiskey and a beer. How silly I was.

Regardless, I began writing. About anything.

Politics and happenings across the country.

My experiences at bars as a trans woman.

The hallway to my apartment having the scent of Chinese food.

Nothing seemed too weird or off-limits. But like most of my decisions throughout my thirty-one years on this planet, I gave up. Got lazy. Distracted. Forgot to check in.

Oh, well. Here we are, writing again.

I wish I could blame it on the stress of life. But life is good. About the only thing giving me trouble is my drinking problem, and even that, I’ve cut down considerably.

I have no excuse. It’s just who I am, to start ambitious projects and then just quit.

What’s ironic (to me, at least) is that I always complain that I have nothing to write about or that my stories are boring.

Who cares about me being on medication? Apart from me, as one could imagine.

A lot of people take medication for all sorts of conditions, I think. It doesn’t make you special or interesting.

Perhaps. But does it mean no one cares? Not at all.

And so here I am, writing about my inability to write. Is writer’s block a hot topic? Maybe so, maybe not so.

I play with my hair in a bar right now, at this moment in time.

If you have a funny anecdote or some such thing, feel free to leave me a comment.

Until next time, peace.

Do bipolar freaks dream of Lamictal sleeps?

I recently started meds again, after at least three years off of them. In the past, it was Seroquel. Now it’s Lamictal.

For those who don’t know, Seroquel is an anti-psychotic they often prescribe for people with bipolar, schizophrenia, and sometimes major depression. Lamictal is a medication they traditionally give to people with epilepsy, to combat seizures – but coincidentally (as with many meds), it has other uses. Namely, in this case, it acts as a mood stabilizer for folks in my situation.

The important question is: does it work? And, if it does, how long before it starts to work its magic?

The answer, friends, is yes. I’ve noticed little to no mania in the almost two weeks I’ve been on it, and this crucial change began probably a few days after I began taking it. Perhaps it’s placebo for now, as I’m told it can take up to six weeks to work.

But who really cares, if this is the case? Hell, studies before a medication is approved almost always (if not every single time) utilize a placebo in their controlled tests, and sugar pills are known to produce an effect in these studies.

Except in my case, I really don’t feel it’s a placebo. But how would I know, right?

Here’s the thing, my main point. Bizarre dreams, fantasies that no one could imagine if they were forced to remain at a desk until they arrived at such a scenario.

Last night was maybe the most intense of the three or four I remember. If you’ve seen the show Weeds, remember the character Andy? Picture him, but instead of a white guy’s face, it’s a dragon in a Chinese New Year festival.

And, oh, his dragon face is a beautiful, azure blue.

Picture this, but operated by a somewhat-famous actor

Aren’t most dreams in black-and-white, as if color TV is still a decade away? Apparently not, friends.

Now, the important question here is, do these bother me? Not really, because for the most part, they’re just vivid as fuck, not nightmarish (well, one of them was traumatizing, but I won’t get into that – at least in this piece). As an artistic type, I can dig the trippiness inherent to the things I’m experiencing.

Let’s keep it going, but maybe dial down the intensity a notch or three. That would be ideal.