Writing Prompt: Four Seasons

The weather has been playing up this weekend. It has gone from rain and wind to sun to drizzle and haze , making it difficult to make plans. Do I go out for a walk in the park, go running or stick to mall crawling? 

Weather plays such a huge part on every day lives. Try this, write a scene where someone is about to go out their front door. Write the scene 4 times, altering where they’re going, what they’re wearing and include some indication of how their activities are affected by the weather. 

Start with Spring and make your way around the year. 

Writing Prompt: Current Events

This exercise is pretty simple.

Every day we get bogged down with day to day events. When we see our friends, if we haven’t caught up in a while, it’s easy to highlight the big events like new jobs, junior walking, moving house, etc. At other times, we go through day to day routine and answer the “what’s new” question with “nothing much, same old stuff”. The truth is that there is so much going on all around us, that there is story potential everywhere you look. That’s what observation and human interaction provides.

Try this. Think back to the past 24 hours and write down what you did any observations or anything that springs to mind inspired by the past 24 hours. Pick something and write about it in detailed description. Even if you spent the day watching tv, what did you watch, how did you feel and why did you choose it out of all of the infinite possibilities?

Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 
    My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, 
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains 
    One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, 
    But being too happy in thine happiness, – 
        That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, 
                In some melodious plot 
    Of beechen green and shadows numberless, 
        Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been 
    Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth, 
Tasting of Flora and the country green, 
    Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! 
O for a beaker full of the warm South, 
    Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, 
        With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, 
                And purple-stained mouth; 
    That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, 
        And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget 
    What thou among the leaves hast never known, 
The weariness, the fever, and the fret 
    Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; 
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, 
    Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; 
        Where but to think is to be full of sorrow 
                And leaden-eyed despairs, 
    Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 
        Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee, 
    Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, 
But on the viewless wings of Poesy, 
    Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: 
Already with thee! tender is the night, 
    And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, 
        Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays; 
                But here there is no light, 
    Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown 
        Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, 
    Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, 
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet 
    Wherewith the seasonable month endows 
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; 
    White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; 
        Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves; 
                And mid-May’s eldest child, 
    The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, 
        The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time 
    I have been half in love with easeful Death, 
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme, 
    To take into the air my quiet breath; 
Now more than ever seems it rich to die, 
    To cease upon the midnight with no pain, 
        While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad 
                In such an ecstasy! 
    Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain – 
        To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! 
    No hungry generations tread thee down; 
The voice I hear this passing night was heard 
    In ancient days by emperor and clown: 
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 
    Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, 
        She stood in tears amid the alien corn; 
                The same that oft-times hath 
    Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam 
        Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell 
    To toll me back from thee to my sole self! 
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well 
    As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf. 
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades 
    Past the near meadows, over the still stream, 
        Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep 
                In the next valley-glades: 
    Was it a vision, or a waking dream? 
        Fled is that music: – Do I wake or sleep?

Writing Prompt: The Heart Grows Fonder

I’ve been working away from home a lot. For the past four months I’ve traveled from Scotland to London and back each week. My work is great and worth the effort, but it means that I have very little time for friends and family. You might think this is a bad thing, but for the first time in years I know what it is to truly appreciate the people around me. When I see a text message from a friend or get a call from my parents, I’m overjoyed. I feel loved and it’s wonderful to know that they miss me as much as I miss them.

This time away from home also makes me appreciate Scotland, with all its calm and distance from the London rat-race. They each have things to recommend them, London with its energy and vibrance (and slightly warmer temperatures). Scotland with its calm, green scenery and rolling farmlands, Edinburgh Castle and those things that were familiar and took for granted this past ten years. They are finer in my eyes now that I can no longer see them every day.

When I’m at home in Scotland, I feel calm. The cat sits beside me on the sofa. The fire is blazing cheerily at my feet. I have no one to please but myself. The coffee is on tap.

In London, I can’t wait to see what the day will bring. My colleagues are unique and interesting people. I can look across the Thames on the train and see the City open up before me. I feel full of energy and I wish I had all the time in the world to explore the city I’ve always loved.

So, it’s true, absence does make the heart grow fonder. (and yes, the grass is always greener)

Write about something or someone you miss.

Have fun.

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