In a recent interview published on the Creative Independent, author and editor Naomi Falk talks about the importance of ritual and her daily morning habits of cooking, meditation, walking, and dream journaling. “I adore the morning time,” she says. “Between the hours of six and nine, everything that I do is just for myself.” Write a personal essay that takes a look at how you like to start and end your day, including the type of atmosphere and activities that help you ease into the morning and how you like your night to wrap up. Where might spirituality or dreams come into play? Does exercise or body movement contribute to a sense of warming up or cooling down before and after the day’s events? Consider how your relationship to patterns and repetitive habits say something about where you are in your life.

In The Invite, a recent film directed by Olivia Wilde with a screenplay by Rashida Jones and Will McCormack, an unhappily married couple invite their upstairs neighbors over to their apartment for dinner and the evening leads to unexpected revelations after a risqué proposition. Taking inspiration from the contained setting of an apartment and the ripe ingredients for drama and comedy of mysterious neighbors and an awkward proposal, write a short story in which members of a household—a couple, multi-generational family members, or housemates—invite neighbors they don’t really know over for a gathering and a surprising idea or proposition is brought up. How does this closed space open up a multitude of possibilities in terms of what might go wrong or right, and how the characters end up learning from one another?

What do you think of when you hear the word clown? In a 2022 Los Angeles Times article by Jake Kroeger about the contemporary state of clowning in the arts and its growing popularity, clown teacher and performer Jet Eveleth defines the word as “a celebration of the physical and vulnerable side of the human experience.” Eveleth points out how the actions of a clown, whether it be falling down or falling in love, are “poking fun at the human condition.” This week write a “clown” poem, allowing yourself to explore whatever the word brings up for you. Perhaps it is children’s birthday parties, horror movie villains, campy decor, circus hijinks, or something that lives in the contradiction of simultaneous joy and sorrow. How do the paradoxes of a clown—both happy and sad, silly and sinister—reveal truths about the human condition?