Quote for the day

The value of life lies not in the length of days, but in the use we make of them; a man may live long yet live very little.

–  Michel de Montaigne

Writing Prompt: Nothing But Blue Skies

I look out the window across the hill behind my house and balanced carefully on the fence is Titch, my cat. As I raise my eyes to the horizon, there are wisps of thin cloud across a beautiful blue sky. The week is only half over, I’m exhausted, but very happy. I had a good day today and my thoughts wander to the people that made my day a little nicer, my life a little easier. I want to show my gratitude, but I’m afraid it would sound corny. So, instead of spilling my guts to them, I write about sweet thoughts and clear skies right here.

Sometimes I wish I could pull the people that matter to me aside and tell them what I really think of them without worrying about the repercussions. Try this, think of someone special in your life. Write them a letter and say everything you feel, every thought in your head, every wish you have for them. You don’t have to give it to them, but sometimes by writing the truth, you can surprise yourself with the depth of your feelings and your own ability to articulate them. It’s amazing what you can find out about yourself and your feelings about people once you try to express them. Have a go and see where your heart takes you.

Writing Prompt: Nothing But Blue Skies

Quote for the day

Coleridge was a drug addict. Poe was an alcoholic. Marlowe was killed by a man whom he was treacherously trying to stab. Pope took money to keep a woman’s name out of a satire then wrote a piece so that she could still be recognized anyhow. Chatterton killed himself. Byron was accused of incest. Do you still want to a writer – and if so, why?

-Bennett Cerf

Writing Prompt: Perfect Moon

I sat on the bench in my back garden tonight. The sky was clear for the first time in ages and as I lifted my glass of wine, I saw it, a perfect full moon. It’s there every month, but for some reason, I only ever notice it every once in a while. The last one I saw was in London a few months ago. I stood on the bank of the Thames and looked out over the water, a glass of champagne in my hand. From my vantage point, I could see some light, but not its source. After a moment, a thin sliver of light peeked across the London skyline. As the minutes passed, it crept into view, until the sky was drenched in brightness. The moon, huge and perfect reminded me of the sky over the desert back home. I used to hop into my car, sleek, fast, red, and totally inappropriate for a girl of sixteen years. With the windows down and the stereo as high as the speakers could take it, I put my foot down and followed the moonlight. It was a great, peaceful way to think.

When was the last time you saw a perfect moon? What were you doing, who were you with, what did you see, where were you, how did you feel?

Writing Prompt: Perfect Moon

Quote for the Day

Reading usually precedes writing and the impulse to write is almost always fired by reading. Reading, the love of reading, is what makes you dream of becoming a writer. – Susan Sontag

Writing Prompt: There is no music…

…in the nightingale…

Two Gentlemen of Verona – III, 1, William Shakespeare

There are some sounds that awaken something in the heart and in the head.

This prompt is short and simple. What sound inspires you? What living music makes your heart skip a beat? Is it the sound of the ocean, a voice, wind through the trees? Name your melody.

Writing Prompt: There is no music

Writing Prompt: What’s your flavour?

I cast my eyes along the rows of colour. Deep, dark, seductive chocolate with fudge chunks peeking out at me, smooth, unassuming vanilla whispers, “come to me”. I run my fingers along the glass, “iny, miney, miney, moe”…

I pause at the raspberry sorbet, deep crimson like wine and sweet as a summer’s day. Then I remember my first taste of Cherry Garcia Ben & Jerry’s, a reminder of my home state. Cherries, chocolate, gooey greatness. I reflect on my first job at a deli over the baseball season, next to the local stadium and think happy thoughts of the bottomless tubs of mint-chocolate-chip and rocky road, thick with marshmallows and layered in fudge sauce.

There’s a place in my heart for cherry vanilla and cappuccino with cream; the flavours on the menu at the restaurant I worked at when I was sweet sixteen. I fast forward to a goblet of lemon sorbet, seemingly inoccuous with its little mint leaf of top, but tangy and electrifying when it touches my lips. The shock of its cold sweetness sends my heart racing and although my cheeks go numb within two bites, I can’t stop myself from wanting more and feeling the sugar dissolve in my mouth.

I decide. My favourite flavour in the world sits in a half-empy tub at the back row. I gesture with a tilt of my head and a smile on my face and a dripping, melting cone is handed to me. I lick the sides and nibble at a piece of frozen strawberry. Within a minute, its gone. There’s a spring in my step as I walk through the park, sugar-rushed and happy that I’ll be passing that way again tomorrow.

Writing Prompt: What’s your flavour?

Just a thought, what does your favourite ice cream flavour say about you?

Writing Prompt: Dreaming in Colour

I took a detour through the gardens on my way home again today. I stole another rose and pressed it into my notebook. This one was different shades of deep pink, blended together like candy floss. As I pulled up to the house, my cat, short haired and jet black sat on the step waiting for me.

We wandered up the stairs together where she sat on my duvet with its lavender cover and I changed out of my red dress and into my blue pajamas with the white stripes. Once downstairs, we made our way into the kitchen where I poured a glass of wine, deep burgundy.

I made a pot of chili and curled up on the chocolate brown sofa in the living room. Titch, my cat, followed me in and fell asleep on the cushion with embroidered gold flowers beside me. I nodded off for a minute and when I woke up, in that moment between being asleep and completely awake, I thought about all of the colours I’d seen today.

It’s funny how much we take colour for granted. Light and shadow changes colour, as does texture. The sky was a hundred shades of grey today, I noticed a friend’s eyes are green with flecks of brown in them and when you look through the stained glass window in my office, the world changes all its shades depending on where you stand. Open your eyes, look around, and describe the colours that strike you.

Writing Prompt: Dreaming in Colour

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