Earlier this month, Science journal published an article detailing findings that linked the death of bats to higher human infant mortality rates. In U.S. counties where bat populations decreased due to a fungal disease called white-nose syndrome, farmers increased their use of pesticides to compensate for the insect population control that bats typically provide, and putting more pesticide into the environment led to increased infant deaths. Write a short story that demonstrates the unfolding of a chain reaction that occurs when the population of one animal in our interconnected ecosystem either significantly increases or decreases the human population. You might experiment with incorporating elements of certain genres, like science fiction, mystery, romance, or even comedy into your story.
Writing Prompts & Exercises
The Time Is Now
The Time Is Now offers three new and original writing prompts each week to help you stay committed to your writing practice throughout the year. We also curate a list of essential books on writing—both the newly published and the classics—that we recommend for guidance and inspiration. Whether you’re struggling with writer’s block, looking for a fresh topic, or just starting to write, our archive of writing prompts has what you need. Need a starter pack? Check out our Writing Prompts for Beginners.
Tuesdays: Poetry prompts
Wednesdays: Fiction prompts
Thursdays: Creative nonfiction prompts
Get immediate access to more than 2,000 writing prompts with the tool below:
“The jacket doesn’t have many wears left. Its small fissures have become large ones. Its fading has become even more pronounced. And yet, I am putting it through the rigors of my living,” writes Hanif Abdurraqib, about a 1978 vintage Bruce Springsteen nylon jacket he procured, in a piece published for the Yale Review’s “Objects of Desire” series, in which writers “meditate on an everyday item that haunts them.” This week compose a poem about one such haunting object in your life. Abdurraqib describes being drawn to vintage clothing because it is a way of “extending the life of an item that someone else decided they were finished with” and “a bridge from one existence to another.” Is there a beloved item of yours with a history? Think about how you can play with diction, rhythm, and formatting to express why you hold on to this object.
Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, brown paper packages tied up with strings, cream-colored ponies, crisp apple strudels, wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings. These are a few, mundane yet specific, favorite things the protagonist from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical The Sound of Music sings about as an uplifting way to buoy the characters’ spirits in moments of sorrow and distress. This week write a series of short nonfiction vignettes, each one titled with one of your favorite things. Reflect on how each favorite originated, your memories associated with the items, and how they make you feel.
“Most pennies produced by the U.S. Mint are given out as change but never spent; this creates an incessant demand for new pennies to replace them,” writes Caity Weaver in an article published in the New York Times Magazine about the wasteful production of pennies. “A conservative estimate holds that there are 240 billion pennies lying around the United States…enough to hand two pennies to every bewildered human born since the dawn of man.” Write a short story that imagines a different life for the copper-plated coin, perhaps a universe in which all dormant pennies are suddenly used or an attempt to collect and dispose of them is put into place. What would propel your characters to care about the worth of a penny?
The French expression, à la rentrée, literally means “at the return” and can be translated as “see you in the fall” to refer to the time of year when students return back to school after the summer break and vacationers return to the city and to work after out-of-town trips—a time to start anew feeling reenergized with a refreshed and rested perspective on everyday routines. Think about the projects, personal goals, or relationships that you’d like to approach with a fresh start this autumn season. To celebrate la rentrée, write a poem that revolves around a familiar relationship, duty, or obligation. How might it be approached from a different angle or seen in a new light?
“The writing comes not with the then and then and then of narrative time driven by the hierarchy of information that plot demands, but with the and and and and and of parataxis. Everything is equal all together and all at once,” writes Jennifer Kabat in her debut memoir, The Eighth Moon: A Memoir of Belonging and Rebellion (Milkweed Editions, 2024), which combines the author’s musings on her relocation to the rural Catskills in New York with historical documents and research about the Anti-Rent War between tenant farmers and landowners that took place in the region in the early nineteenth century. Take a deep dive into a historical event that took place where you live and write an essay that attempts to bridge your own experiences and memories of your locale with the past. Inspired by Kabat, experiment with alternating back and forth through different time periods, point of view, and verb tense for a sense of simultaneity.
French director and screenwriter Tran Anh Hung’s Oscar-nominated film The Taste of Things, adapted from a 1924 novel by Swiss author Marcel Rouff, opens with a scene that takes place in the ground-floor kitchen of a late-nineteenth-century estate in France. The scene, which lasts for nearly forty minutes and contains little dialogue, consists primarily of shots of a chef and his cooks preparing a sumptuous feast as they maneuver around one another, handling and arranging various ingredients for each dish. The camera zooms in on the pots and pans, and precise sounds of sizzling, sauteing, crackling, rinsing, stirring, bubbling, and steaming are captured. Write a scene or portion of a short story that focuses in on the sounds of a particular room in your setting. When you subtract human voices, does a chronicle of meticulous details emerge?
Can what was once lost still be found? The Search for Lost Birds, a global partnership between the American Bird Conservancy, Re:wild, and BirdLife International, was founded in 2021 to shed a light on species of birds that are deemed “lost,” meaning that there has been no documented evidence of them in over a decade, but that they may still exist. Researchers from the organization recently published a paper in the journal Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment citing over one hundred “lost” bird species with the majority in danger of extinction. Jot down a list of items that have been lost to you over the years, perhaps including both physical objects and intangible things, and compose a poem that incorporates your list. How might you play with the order of items, punctuation, line breaks, sound, and rhythm to express the experience of loss?
How do best pals become worst enemies? In the television fantasy drama series House of the Dragon, created by Ryan Condal and George R. R. Martin, childhood best friends Rhaenyra Targaryen and Alicent Hightower become mortal enemies, each at the head of a household vying for the power to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Compose a personal essay that ruminates on a complicated friendship or relationship you’ve had that has transformed significantly over time. Was there one catalyzing incident or many gradual shifts that caused your relationship to change direction? Consider the ways in which the relationship changed in parallel, or in contradiction, to how each of you have evolved as individuals.
In the documentary Yintah, directors Jennifer Wickham, Brenda Michell, and Michael Toledano chronicle how Wet’suwet’en First Nation have been fighting to protect their unceded territory in northern British Columbia for decades, most recently in protests and blockades against pipeline developments. The film spanning more than a decade of conflict captures the spirit of Wet’suwet’en resistance in the face of Canadian government policies and police invasions, and their fight for the survival of the land itself. Write a short story that revolves around a group of people who are beset upon by unjust policies, and explore the values and priorities of each side. How do strengths, weaknesses, advantages, and disadvantages play out?
In the 1960s, a string of songs about crying hit the air waves, from Roy Orbison’s “Crying,” to “Big Girls Don’t Cry” by The Four Seasons, to Lesley Gore’s song that begins with, “It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to.” Crying has carried on as a theme in popular songs throughout the decades with Prince’s 1984 ballad “When Doves Cry,” Aerosmith’s 1993 hit “Cryin’” and The Weeknd’s 2020 song “Save Your Tears.” This week, take a cue from tunes about shedding tears and write a poem that incorporates crying in some way, whether about sorrow or joy, letting the waterworks flow or attempting to hold them back. Consider using unique diction or imagery to put a fresh spin on conventional tropes. What can you say about crying that hasn’t been said before?
In Stories Are Weapons: Psychological Warfare and the American Mind, published by W. W. Norton in June, author and journalist Annalee Newitz chronicles the ways storytelling can be wielded as a manipulative tool to further political agendas and steer cultural perspective, through advertising, influence campaigns, and mass media. In the first chapter Newitz discusses how Sigmund Freud’s theories help sell products: “Advertisers began to study psychology to figure out ways to manipulate the unconscious minds of consumers,” she writes. “They would lure consumers in with emotional appeals or by associating a product with some political ideal like freedom.” Write a personal essay about a time when you were persuaded by a narrative—whether it be a story told to you by a friend, foe, colleague, family member, or even an advertisement. Were you able to separate from your unconscious mind and gain a fuller perspective on the situation?
Is it science fiction or simply the state of advanced, contemporary science? Hiromi Kawakami’s latest novel, Under the Eye of the Big Bird, forthcoming from Soft Skull Press in September and translated from the Japanese by Asa Yoneda, takes place thousands of years in the future when humans are near extinction. Children are created in factories from the cells of animals including cows, dolphins, horses, and mice. Kawakami’s magical realism blends scientific advancements with real-life phenomena such as population aging, as well as the existing technologies of cloning and xenotransplantation. Using an idea or a concept derived from scientific studies or your own research, write a speculative fiction story that builds on existing technology to achieve the fantastic. In your invented future what fundamental issues of ethics, traditions, and mortality arise?
William Carlos Williams’s multi-volume, mid-twentieth-century poem Paterson is purportedly inspired by the works of his contemporaries: James Joyce’s Ulysses, Ezra Pound’s The Cantos, T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, and Hart Crane’s The Bridge. Through his subject—the former mill town of Paterson, New Jersey—Williams provides a voice for American industrial communities. A launching pad for other artists’ work, the book inspired Jim Jarmusch’s 2016 film Paterson, about a bus driver and poet named Paterson in the city of the same name, and Robert Fitterman’s book Creve Coeur (Winter Editions, 2024), set in the segregated suburbs of his eponymous Missouri hometown—an illustration of contemporary America that mirrors the structure of Williams’s postwar epic. Write a poem that draws on specific observations of your neighborhood to express a wider perspective on life in the twenty-first century. Incorporate street names, local landmarks, and history as well as tidbits of everyday conversation.
When you picture sea otters, you might think immediately of the many photos and videos of fuzzy otters holding hands while floating in the water, but do these images of cuddly creatures represent their true character? In a 2013 Slate article titled “Sea Otters Are Jerks. So Are Dolphins, Penguins, and Other Adorable Animals,” the violent behavior of these animals and their instinctive modes in the wild are described in detail and contradict the cute and cuddly depictions humans often project onto them. Write a personal essay that explores the theme of deceptive appearances, perhaps drawing on experiences you’ve had in which you misjudged someone and found your first impression contradicted other facts. Or you might think back to a time when someone else made assumptions about you based on superficial traits. What social conditions or cultural expectations contributed to those first impressions?
In Michael Ondaatje’s 1992 Booker Prize–winning novel, The English Patient, four main characters—a young Canadian army nurse, an Indian Sikh working as a British military engineer, a thief, and the eponymous patient—find themselves at a bombed-out Italian villa toward the end of World War II. Through a convergence of sections that weave in and out of time, between the past and present, and told through the characters’ various points of view, the story comes into focus. Write a short story that takes place in a vivid locale where a small group of characters has converged. Experiment with telling the story from multiple perspectives, and alternating chronology. In Ondaatje’s novel, the nonlinear storytelling reflects the effects of war trauma—how might time in your story work on a thematic level?
“In colonial times, gardens were utilitarian. A cross between a grocery store and a pharmacy. In the gilded age, they became an entrance to high society, a place of conspicuous display,” narrates the main character in Paul Schrader’s 2022 film Master Gardener, a man with a secret past who works as the horticulturalist of an estate owned by a wealthy dowager. This week write a poem about a garden, perhaps a large and well-known one visited by tourists, a seasonal garden tended by family members that you frequented as a child, or one you pass occasionally on a neighborhood walk. You might explore the functions of the garden; list colors, shapes, textures, and smells; or make conjectures about its guiding aesthetics. What can a garden reveal about its gardener and the space in which it resides?
“When I say I have written from the beginning, I mean that all real writers write from the beginning, that the vocation, the obsession, is already there, and that the obsession derives from an intensity of feeling which normal life cannot accommodate,” said the late Irish author Edna O’Brien in a 1984 interview for the Paris Review’s Art of Fiction series. O’Brien, who died last Saturday at the age of ninety-three, was the author of a series of novels beginning with The Country Girls, which were internationally acclaimed but banned in Ireland. Her work included memoirs, biographies, and plays, many of which revolved around intimate stories of women’s experiences of love and loss. Write a lyric essay that responds to O’Brien’s sentiment about being drawn to writing from “an intensity of feeling.” Does writing serve in some sense as an outlet for expressing something that seemingly can’t fit into the strictures of normal life?
In 1996, scientists created the first clone of a mammal, a sheep named Dolly. Since 2015, a company based in Texas called ViaGen Pets has cloned hundreds of dogs, cats, and horses for tens of thousands of dollars each. Scientists have warned of the ethical issues of cloning—both in the ways in which the process requires the use of multiple animals (an egg donor and a surrogate carrier), and in the precedence it sets for humans. Write a short story in which a cloned animal plays an integral role in a plot twist. Is the animal’s cloned history kept hidden for some reason? What made this animal so exceptional to be cloned? Consider the complexity and emotions involved with your characters’ values and ethics in this decision.
In Divya Victor’s poem “Blood / Soil,” which appears in her collection Curb (Nightboat Books, 2021), she writes about Sureshbhai Patel, a man who had traveled from India to visit his son and infant grandson in Alabama and was assaulted by police for alleged suspicious behavior while taking a neighborhood stroll. As she describes the physical encounter, Victor includes Newton’s laws of motion and experiments with the visuals of typography and spacing in her incorporation of quotations to draw attention to movement and a sense of confrontation between bodies and language. Write a poem inspired by a news incident that feels resonant to you and provokes a strong emotion. Consider adding bits of science, research, or reported dialogue that might help create a more expansive, interpretive angle.
Pulitzer Prize–winning playwright Annie Baker, who made her feature film directorial debut with the coming-of-age drama Janet Planet, recently shared her inspirations for the film with the New York Times through a mood board. The artistic influences included fin-de-siècle painter Édouard Vuillard’s portraits of his mother; Maurice Pialat’s 1968 film about a foster child, L’enfance Nue; literature by Thomas Mann and Rainer Maria Rilke; and an album by Canadian jazz musician Beverly Glenn-Copeland. Write a lyric essay composed of short descriptions of creative works—perhaps similarly spanning visual and performing arts, music, and literature—that have served as inspiration to you over the years. What is special about each one, and what are the elements that draw them together?
This week, in preparation for the upcoming opening ceremony of the 2024 Summer Olympic Games in Paris, consider the Olympic creed: “The important thing in life is not the triumph, but the fight; the essential thing is not to have won, but to have fought well.” Write a short story that revolves around a competition of some sort—whether between friends, enemies, strangers, or within a liminal relationship of some kind. Decide between a contest of mental or physical abilities, or a battle of wills. Are there high stakes or is the contest seemingly inconsequential? Does all go as planned or is there a surprising upset? Think about your characters’ respective perspectives on the spirit of competition, and what constitutes as fighting fairly.
In the twentieth anniversary edition of Don’t Let Me Be Lonely: An American Lyric, Claudia Rankine writes in the preface about her use of the first-person voice “to bear witness to the witness” and provide emotion while maintaining an intimacy within the text. “Anybody could embody the first person and be our guide through the text,” writes Rankine. “For me, at the time, this was a liberating mechanism for getting at the ineffable affective disorder of the moment without disconnecting from the people affected by it.” Write a poem about an event currently unfolding in the world, either locally or on a global scale. Deploy the first-person “I” as a tool to guide the reader through what’s being witnessed. Are there multiple emotional truths at play? How can you give them shape?
“I have known brilliant writers who could size people up in minutes with alarming accuracy.... And yet for all their ability to understand people, to see them, to capture them as characters, these writers could not see themselves,” writes Literary Hub editor-in-chief Jonny Diamond in a piece reflecting on a recent op-ed written by the daughter of Nobel laureate Alice Munro, Andrea Skinner, about her mother’s failure to protect her from sexual abuse by her stepfather. Write a personal essay that traces your self-awareness through several phases of your life, contemplating on how your understanding and perception of yourself has transformed through the years. Can you reconcile the differing points of view that various people in your life hold about you? Are there blind spots that, even if you can’t or don’t want to articulate, you wish to acknowledge?
Ghosting, the social practice of suddenly cutting off communication without explanation by no longer accepting or responding to calls or messages, is often associated with dating but can also extend to other arenas of interpersonal communication and socializing, such as the interview process for a new job or with friends and family. Write a short story that revolves around two people, one of whom ghosts the other. What are the dynamics of communication that lead up to the ghosting, and what is the fallout? Are excuses made or is hindsight twenty-twenty? Consider how much of each party’s point of view to reveal prior to and after the ghosting.
In medieval European cathedrals, some of the panes of the beautiful stained glass windows are thicker at the bottom than at the top, creating misconceptions that the seemingly solid glass has melted over time. According to an article published in Scientific American, glass is an amorphous solid, a state that is neither solid nor liquid but something in between disproving the theory of melted glass. The differences in thickness of old glass windows is merely a product of the manufacturing process, giving them a melted look. This week write a poem inspired by the idea of something, or even someone, existing in an in-between state. Consider playing with the line breaks and white space of your page to mirror or contrast with your chosen subject.
In “The Bear IRL: My Manic Day in a Michelin-Starred Kitchen,” Vice writer Nick Thompson visits a Michelin-starred restaurant in London for a day to capture a glimpse of the behind-the-scenes operations of a high-level kitchen, like the ones portrayed on the popular TV series The Bear. Thompson speaks to one chef who echoes the repercussions of sacrificing a social life that are depicted in the award-winning show, mentioning missing out on birthdays and special occasions because of long hours and weekend work schedules. “It’s more like a sports team, where you’re trying to achieve something. That’s what drives you forward,” says the chef. Write an essay about a time in your past when you had to make a sacrifice in your personal life because of your job. Was there a payoff? What were the factors that ultimately pushed you to choose your job over your social life?
The Swimmer, a group exhibition of around one hundred works by dozens of artists at the Flag Art Foundation in New York City, is inspired by John Cheever’s short story of the same name, published in the New Yorker in 1964, in which his protagonist ventures to return home by swimming across his affluent neighbors’ backyard pools on a summer day. Curator Jonathan Rider selected and arranged the artworks to reflect the story’s themes of idealism, identity, class, failure and loss, and the instability of time and reality. This week write a short story that incorporates a swimming pool in some way. Whether an integral part of the plot or seen somewhere in the periphery, spend a bit of time describing its visual imagery, colors, light, and texture. Does it feel static or dynamic, vacant or crowded? Are there multiple interpretations for what functions the pool could serve?
In the 2023 film Past Lives, writer and director Celine Song explores the concept of inyeon through the main character Nora, a Korean American woman who navigates her relationships with two loves, her husband and her childhood best friend. “There is a word in Korean—inyeon. It means providence or fate. But it’s specifically about relationships between people,” says Nora to her husband when first meeting him. “It’s an inyeon if two strangers even walk by each other on the street and their clothes accidentally brush. Because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives. If two people get married, they say it’s because there have been 8,000 layers of inyeon over 8,000 lifetimes.” Write a poem that contemplates a connection of this type, a fated or destined encounter with another person, whether brief or long-lasting. What might you have meant to each other in a past life?
In an interview by Margaret Ross for the Art of Nonfiction series published in the Summer 2024 issue of the Paris Review, author and Harvard University professor Elaine Scarry says, “I see my writing on imagination and on war as continuous. Or rather, the two subjects are essentially locked in combat, because the act of inflicting injury or pain is really a willful aping of imagination, turning it upside down and appropriating it.” Write a lyric essay that braids together two subjects: Use the imagination or the artistic process as one topic, and then choose another subject that may seem “locked in combat” with your ideas around creativity, perhaps one more adjacent to pain or distress. What kind of truth can be coaxed to the surface when you think about the connections between them?
In the new horror film The Exorcism directed and cowritten by Joshua John Miller, Russell Crowe plays an actor who stars as a priest in a horror film, one that largely resembles the 1973 classic film The Exorcist, whose young priest was played by Miller’s father. This week take a page from this jumble of connections and nested narratives, and write a short story that contains within it another short story. The nested story could be something one of your characters is writing, or perhaps a story one of your characters comes across in a book. Decide whether to include some or all of the text of the nested story inside your larger story. You may want to play around with oppositional genres, such as humor and tragedy, or make use of similar plot points for an eerie effect.
Zillow Gone Wild is a popular Instagram account, and new HGTV reality TV show, that highlights particularly strange, curious, extreme, or otherwise unusual homes listed on the real estate website Zillow. Even for those who are not actively looking to buy or sell a home, the descriptions and photographs on these listings can serve as an inspiring portal, sparking a curiosity about how others express themselves through their homes, and how one’s own life could be different in a new environment with an idiosyncratic character of its own. Browse through some wild real estate listings online and write a persona poem from the point of view of an imagined inhabitant of the home of your choice. Consider what kind of assumptions or preconceived notions you might be bringing to the persona, and how you can upend expectations.
Are you shoe obsessed? Do you prioritize fashion over comfort, seeking out the latest trends, or do you hold tight to a long-held personal style? This week, look through old photos and your closet to jot down notes about the shoes you’ve worn over the years—sneakers, slip-ons, boots, flats, heels, flip-flops—and how the elements of texture, color, and function have impacted your choices. Write a personal essay that traces how your shoe priorities have evolved over the years, perhaps connecting some favorite past pairs to certain phases of your life—places you’ve lived, fads you’ve endured, jobs or hobbies you’ve had. Unpack the specific memories associated with how you were shoed.
In a 2012 interview for the Guardian, Hungarian author László Krasznahorkai explained his predilection for writing extremely long sentences that manage to endure for dozens of pages: “This characteristic, very classical, short sentence—at the end with a dot—this is artificial, this is only a custom, this is perhaps helpful for the reader, but for only one reason, that the readers in the last few thousand years have learned that a short sentence is easier to understand.” For Krasznahorkai, the long sentence extends beyond the desire to reflect the natural continuousness of human speech, but to also express the speaker’s existential drive, a seemingly overwhelming desire to communicate, to be empowered to say their piece. Write a short story that consists of a single sentence, using any punctuation you’d like but saving the period until the very end. How does this constraint affect your story’s themes?
“In the end, I suppose, defeat is inevitable, / the closing of something once delicately propped / open,” writes Dawn Lundy Martin in her poem “From Which the Thing Is Made,” which appears in her collection Instructions for the Lovers, out today from Nightboat. With each line of the poem, Martin dives deeper into the connection between the narrator and their mother, and how her absence is still felt in the body of the narrator. “Even I can’t let go, can’t sift her being (that part / of her that’s her) from my hands,” writes Martin. This week, start a poem with Martin’s first line: “In the end, I suppose, defeat is inevitable…” What memories and imagery come to mind when you think of defeat or of something closing?
This year’s summer solstice arrives in the Northern Hemisphere on June 20, marking it the longest day, and shortest night, of the year. And yet, no matter the exact number of daylight or nighttime hours measured out, any day can feel like a very long day, just as any night can end in the blink of an eye. Write a two-part lyric essay in which the first part details one long summer day you’ve experienced, and the second part focuses on one short summer night. For the day that seemed to last forever, did it drag on and on, producing exasperation, or did the hours ooze dreamily and pleasurably? For the night that whizzed by, was there nonstop action that was over before you knew it?
In an interview published in Salon, Rosemary Mosco, author of A Pocket Guide to Pigeon Watching: Getting to Know the World’s Most Misunderstood Bird (Workman Publishing, 2021), reflects on the historical connections between pigeons and people, and recounts a process of domestication, obsolescence, and abandonment. “The city pigeons around us…were domesticated by humans a really long time ago,” says Mosco. “They were really bred to be good at living near us. And then, we forgot, and now they keep hanging around us. And we’re like, ‘why are they here?’” Write a short story that involves an encounter or situation with a domesticated animal, whether a pet, livestock, or one wandering the streets. Think about the wild ancestors of this animal, and how they’ve become entwined with humans and civilization. How might you connect philosophical ideas around domestication with other larger themes of your story?
“We tend to treat odor in general as a sort of taboo,” writes Scott Sayare in a New York Times Magazine article about a woman who discovered she could smell Parkinson’s disease, in some cases over a dozen years before medical diagnosis. “Modern doctors are trained to diagnose by inspection, palpation, percussion and auscultation; ‘inhalation’ is not on the list, and social norms would discourage it if it were.” This week, focus your attention on your sense of smell as you go about your days, perhaps even ignoring social norms as you inhale all the odors around you. Then, write a poem that focuses solely, or primarily, on smell—perhaps juxtaposing scents that are in your everyday life now and those from a more distant past.
A Question of Belonging: Crónicas (Archipelago Books, 2024) by the Argentine writer Hebe Uhart, who died in 2018, translated from the Spanish by Anna Vilner, contains over two dozen crónicas—a form of narrative journalism popularized in Latin America that is characterized by short, informal musings about everyday topics and observations. In her introduction to the book, Mariana Enríquez notes Uhart’s lack of pretension in her chosen subjects, from what she observed around her to the locals with whom she conversed. “Her fascination with language is not limited to the spoken: She roams around cities and towns taking note of shop names, ads, and graffiti.…” Jot down intriguing or amusing fragments of language you see and hear as you go about your day, perhaps during your commute or while watching your favorite TV show. Write a series of short musings based on your observations, noting any humor or insights gleaned from contemporary language and what it reveals about our current times.
Ayşegül Savaş’s third novel, The Anthropologists, forthcoming in July from Bloomsbury, is narrated by Asya, one half of a young couple setting out to build a new life together in a foreign city. While they solidify friendships, search for an apartment, and accommodate visiting relatives, Asya begins a documentary project. Each of the novel’s vignette titles reference anthropological concepts: Notions of Loyalty, Child-Rearing, Native Tongue, Courtship, Gift Exchange, Division of Labor, Principles of Kinship, and Forms of Enchantment. As Asya reflects on anthropological distance and lenses, these headings raise questions about the conventions, expectations, and routines that constitute a life. What makes a life legible—and to whom? Write a short story with subheadings providing insight or an alternative perspective on scenes. How might they produce additional layers of complexity and ambiguity?
“The sun had just gone out / and I was walking three miles to get home. / I wanted to die. / I couldn’t think of words and I had no future / and I was coming down hard on everything.” In Linda Gregg’s poem “New York Address,” which appears in her retrospective collection, All of It Singing: New and Selected Poems (Graywolf Press, 2008), the speaker recounts bleak existential angst. Despite the pain and darkness, there are glimmers of light. In the second half of the poem, questions are stubbornly answered with snappy, tidy pacing: “Yes I hate dark. No I love light. Yes I won’t speak. / No I will write.” Write a poem that goes all in on angst, channeling a time that felt overwhelmingly uncertain and full of trepidation. How can you experiment with sound and diction to gently steer the dramatic toward the life-affirming?
Nearly fifty years ago, the writer George Perec spent three days sitting behind a café window in Place Saint-Sulpice in Paris recording everything he saw. In his short book, An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris, his observations of mundane occurrences and objects often considered unnoteworthy—passersby, cars, buses, pigeons, signs, and slogans—are documented. This week situate yourself in one spot, perhaps in your home or workplace, or in a public space like a park, busy crossroad, commercial area, library, or café. Then, jot down the objects and behavior you see, and the snippets of conversation you hear. Write a lyric essay composed of these notes, trying to avoid interpretations or analysis. Taken together, how do your observations create a portrayal of a specific time or place? Pay particular attention to how one observation might lead to another, and to potential rhythms and repetitions.
The 2023 thriller film Fair Play, written and directed by Chloe Domont, follows the lives of a young, newly engaged couple, Luke and Emily, who are colleagues working as analysts in the cutthroat world of high finance in New York. The film focuses on the progression of their relationship, which has been kept hidden from their hedge fund office, and the bitter disintegration of their happiness after a promotion that was initially rumored to go to Luke is unexpectedly bestowed upon Emily, which situates him as a subordinate to his wife within a misogynistic workplace. Write a short story that revolves around an occurrence that catalyzes a shift in the power dynamic between two main characters who have a close relationship. What are the initial responses, and does the transformation happen suddenly or gradually? Are there gender, generational, or other cultural issues that play a role?
“All too often, on a ‘poetry scene,’ people prioritise ‘subject matter,’” says John Burnside in a 2023 interview about his writing process by Jesse Nathan published on McSweeney’s Internet Tendency. “I am sure that, as I am working, environmental concerns insinuate their way into the content of a poem organically, as other concerns will—but I would never start from there.” Inspired by the late Scottish poet, who died at the age of sixty-nine on May 29, write a poem that springs not from a predetermined topic or subject matter, but instead allows you to “trust in the sounds, the rhythms that come out of the day-to-day, the sheer immediacy and truth of the quotidian…and the images that lead, sometimes via fairly roundabout paths, to metaphor.” Later, as you reread and revise, what do you discover is the subject of your poem? What might have organically insinuated itself into your poem?
The maintenance or restoration of native plant and animal species has long been at the heart of many ecological and conservation projects, and has historically been a focus of land and environmental stewardship principles held by native and first peoples all over the world. But what if a beloved plant or animal is considered invasive, like the palm trees of Los Angeles or the cattle of Texas? What are the effects or consequences of centuries of existence with this invasive species in a particular locale? This week reflect on the notion of belonging—what are various places and times when you have felt a strong sense of belonging, and situations when you did not feel you belonged? Consider your own perspectives and responses when you encounter someone or something else that seems invasive or does not belong.
In Stephen King’s 1983 novel, Pet Sematary, a doctor moves into a remote house in Maine with his wife, two young children, and their pet cat, and learns from a neighbor about an ancient burial ground nearby cursed by a malevolent spirit which gave it power to reanimate those buried there. This is put to the test first by the family cat, and then by members of the family who die throughout the course of King’s horror story. While each formerly dead being is returned to the land of the living, they don’t come back quite the same. Write a story in which a creature or person returns from the dead, either in actuality or under circumstances in which their reappearance feels as if they are “back from the dead.” What familiar traits remain the same and what is disconcertingly different? Is their return ultimately for the better or the worse?
“I told a friend about a spill at the grocery store, which—the words ‘conveyor belt’ vanishing midsentence—took place on a ‘supermarket treadmill,’” writes Madeleine Schwartz in a recent essay published by New York Times Magazine about her experience of negotiating with and toggling between the French and English languages after moving from New York to Paris. In the piece, Schwartz notes that as she became more comfortable with living and thinking in French, she noticed a blurring of her linguistic capabilities, including a muddling of her articulative abilities in English. Think about a time or situation when words have failed you, or you’ve drawn a blank as to the mot juste. Write a poem that traces or enacts a loss of language, perhaps using invented words, phrases, and spellings or experimenting with font sizes, line breaks, and spacing.
Many foods, flavors, and dishes hold a wellspring of emotional associations because they remind us of loved ones, habits and traditions, specific locales, and a different time of our lives when we were different people. Write a series of flash nonfiction pieces this week with each segment focusing on an edible item that evokes particularly resonant memories for you. You might begin by jotting down lists of foods you ate regularly growing up—breakfasts, school lunches, vending machine go-tos, favorite fast-food joints, diners, late night spots, home-cooked specialties—as well as a few momentous meals. Who are the people you associate with each one? Aside from taste and smell, consider the surrounding environment, atmospheric sounds, time of year, and who you were at that point in your life.
While the American proverb “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” may be one you’ve heard time and again, often in reference to the idea that whoever raises or vocalizes a criticism the loudest will be appeased, there is a Japanese saying that translates to “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down,” which points to the positives of conformity in order to maintain a productive and humble society. It can also refer to putting someone who has become too successful back down in their place. Write a story in which your main character diverges from a group of people, and sticks their neck out, so to speak. Perhaps they vocalize a contrary perspective, protest something they feel is unjust, or simply present themselves in an unconventional manner. What are the consequences? Does your story lean toward one proverbial lesson or the other, or does the conclusion demonstrate more ambiguity?
If you could spend a night at any museum, which would you choose, and why? The French publisher Editions Stock has a series of books that begins with this premise—each author selects a museum, arrangements are made for an overnight stay, and a book is written about the experience. In Jakuta Alikavazovic’s Like a Sky Inside, translated from the French by Daniel Levin Becker, she spends a night at the Louvre in Paris, where childhood memories of visits with her father are vividly recalled. “From March 7 to 8, 2020, I spent the night in the Louvre, alone. Alone and at the same time anything but,” writes Alikavazovic. Write a poem that imagines a night at a museum of your choosing, anywhere in the world. What memories will you excavate from this imagined, solitary experience?
Although the origin of the term is unknown and can be defined in many ways, a chosen family is made up of a group of people who choose to embrace, nurture, and support each other despite conventional understandings of biological or marital relationships. Oftentimes a chosen family is formed to take the place of a biological family, however, in some cases, these relationships are formed to expand a family. Write a personal essay about a relationship you have with a chosen family member. How did you first meet? Was there a particular incident that catalyzed what would become an inextricable bond? Has your commitment to each other been tested in ways big or small? Reflect on past memories and experiences you have had with this special person and how your relationship has evolved over the years.
In the 1968 science fiction film Planet of the Apes, which is based on French author Pierre Boulle’s 1963 novel and has spawned several sequels and a recent reboot, a crew of astronauts crash-lands on a planet ruled by apes who have developed an advanced and hierarchical civilization, complete with systems of governance, labor, scientific research, and a military force. In this far-off place, humans have been reduced to mute primitive beings who are subjugated and kept captive as workers for the primates. Write a speculative story that takes place in another universe with a premise revolving around a role reversal. What are the rules and governing structures of the society that you invent? You might decide to approach your narrative with a tone of horror, satire, or comedy to emphasize your perspective on stereotypical assumptions and social expectations.
“I love these raw moist dawns with / a thousand birds you hear but can’t / quite see in the mist. / My old alien body is a foreigner / struggling to get into another country. / The loon call makes me shiver. / Back at the cabin I see a book / and am not quite sure what that is.” In these eight lines that comprise Jim Harrison’s poem “Another Country,” which appears in his final collection, Dead Man’s Float (Copper Canyon Press, 2016), the late poet moves between observations about a natural outdoor setting and the speaker’s own bodily presence, arriving in the final two lines at a sentiment that expresses a feeling of defamiliarization at the seemingly mundane sight of a book. This week write a poem that explores the concept of being so absorbed in one environment or circumstance that to behold a different scene is like traveling to a strange and unknown realm.
A recent study in Scientific Reports journal revealed that, for possibly the first time, a nonhuman wild animal was seen using plant medicine to heal an active wound. In a rainforest in Indonesia, a Sumatran orangutan was observed ripping off leaves from a climbing vine plant, chewing them, and applying the plant sap to treat a wound on his face, which then healed after a few days. Write a personal essay on the theme of self-healing. Think about experiences when you’ve witnessed another person perform this task, or particularly resonant memories that pertain to your own past behavior. What are the primary emotions present throughout this process? What instances of self-treatment or self-medication in film, art, or literature created an impression on you?
Take inspiration from the concept of a campus novel—which takes place in and around the campus of a university and often involves the intertwined dynamics of students, professors, and conventions about learning and power—and write a story that engages with a school setting, whether prominently situated in the context of the plot or used for a particular scene. Some recent additions to the campus novel canon include Elif Batuman’s The Idiot (Penguin Press, 2017), Xochitl Gonzalez’s Anita de Monte Laughs Last (Flatiron Books, 2024), Kiley Reid’s Come and Get It (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 2024), and Brandon Taylor’s Real Life (Riverhead Books, 2020). Will you include a character who is a student, teacher, administrative staff member, custodial worker or caretaker, or possibly an alumni revisiting the past? Consider the multitude of ways the incorporation of an educational environment might permeate the atmosphere of the narrative.
“The day the last friend / dies / we sit alone. / A visitor / from outer space / tries hard / to summon us. / Someone says / EAT DEATH. / I fish around for answers / but the questions / still won’t come,” writes Jerome Rothenberg, who passed away in April, in his poem “The Last Friend.” Included in his collection of one hundred poems, A Book of Witness: Spells & Gris-Gris (New Directions, 2022), the poem presents a list of statements and observations, many of which refer to death or dying in some personal way, though the connections are enigmatic and the logical progression is oblique. Try your hand at writing a poem that mentions its subject directly, but which also deliberately obfuscates or remains ambiguous in its intentions. How might using the “I” as a witness include the reader into your point of view?
The New York City culture and news website Gothamist recently asked New Yorkers about their thoughts on sidewalk etiquette in the crowded, bustling streets of their beloved city. What are the rules, who has the right-of-way, and who should yield? Respondents focused on always walking to the right of the sidewalk and to “move quickly and never stop.” One thoughtful respondent considered the cultural differences of sidewalks used for recreational strolls versus commuting. But the overall consensus was that among nine-to-fivers, tourists, parents with kids, dogwalkers, bicyclists, and groups, seniors deserve the right-of-way. Write an essay about the unwritten rules or etiquette you have observed in your daily surroundings. How have these common practices adapted to fit the needs of different people? Do they evolve over time as social norms change? Consider some of your own experiences with how public etiquette has helped or hindered harmonious community life.
The term sub rosa means “under the rose” in Latin and refers to something said or done in private. The rose has been associated with secrecy since ancient times, a decorative symbol often carved and painted in places like meeting rooms, banquet halls, and confessionals as reminders of confidentiality. This week write a short story that revolves around a conversation or discussion that occurs sub rosa in an enclosed space. Does a certain detail get leaked out or overheard? How might the secretive nature place a burden on your characters? Consider the ways in which the atmosphere and tone of your story feel distinctive in the time and space of your sub-rosa conversation versus the scenes that take place before or after the talk.
In the anthology Another Room to Live In: 15 Contemporary Arab Poets (Litmus Press, 2024) edited by Omar Berrada and Sarah Riggs, multinational and multilingual poet-translators challenge foundational narratives and rework mythologies through poetic expression. Yasmine Seale’s poem “Conventional Wisdom (Arabic Saying Translated Twenty Ways)” is composed of translations of an ancient aphorism expressing the inextricable place of poetry within Arab cultural heritage. Each line presents a variation on the truism: “Poetry is the record of the Arabs / The art of poetry is Arabs, collected / Good poetry is a list of Arabs / To speak in verse is to remain in Arab memory / To surpass another poet is the Arab odyssey.” Write a poem inspired by this idea of translating a proverb or maxim—either from another language or from English into English. How might you creatively interpolate different “translations” of the saying by incorporating connotations and riffing on free associations and personal experiences?
In a recent interview with Aria Aber for the Yale Review, when asked his thoughts on the responsibility of the poet, Jackson Prize–winning poet Fady Joudah says, “I often think that the responsibility of the poet is to strive to become the memory that people may possess in the future about what it means to be human: an ever-changing constant. In poetry, the range of metaphors and topics is limited, predictable, but the styles are innumerable. Think how we read poetry from centuries ago and are no longer bothered by its outdated diction. All that remains of old poetry is the music of what it means to be human.” Write a creative nonfiction piece that presents your personal theory of the responsibility of a writer or an artist. To construct an expansive approach, you might use observations about how different creative disciplines overlap in their goals, or consider what has remained resonant as the arts make their mark throughout various eras.
In honor of Earth Week, write a scene that revolves around a character who experiences an unexpected moment in a natural environment that produces a sensation of wonder, perhaps an unusual encounter with wild flora or fauna. You might contrast the elements of this scene with others in your story in which the character is interacting solely with humans or only attuned to the sounds, rhythms, and sights of city life and densely packed civilization. Is the occurrence mind-bogglingly quick and then reflected upon in hindsight, or does time slow down in the scene? How do you manage or manipulate the pacing and rhythm of your prose to draw attention to the emotional and psychological response of the character?
In Sharon Olds’s poem “May 1968,” the speaker recounts the memory of spending the night with other protesting students, who lay down their bodies on a New York City street at a university’s campus gates in order to obstruct the mounted police force that had been called in. While “spine-down on the cobbles,” she observes the city and surrounding scenery—the soaring buildings and the police and horses’ bodies—as she gazes upward, thinking about the state of her pregnant body. Write a poem this week from the vantage point of lying face-up, “from dirt level.” What circumstances bring you into this position? How does this upward point of view transform what you see, and how you feel about your own body?
More, please? Or, no more, please? In The Fast: The History, Science, Philosophy, and Promise of Doing Without (Avid Reader Press, 2024), John Oakes recounts his personal experience conducting a weeklong fast and examines the practice’s history and place within a wide range of religions and philosophies. The book also explores the act of self-deprivation and the potential transformative benefits of subtracting rather than adding to one’s life. “The act of fasting…won’t stop routine, but impedes it for a bit, signifying a shift and a determined unwillingness to follow standard operating procedure,” writes Oakes. Use this idea to consider your personal relationship with consumption—of food, conversation, media, clothes, space—and write a personal essay that reflects on what you might otherwise take for granted.
In “Table for One,” a short story from Korean author Yun Ko-eun’s new collection of the same name, translated by Lizzie Buehler and published by Columbia University Press in April, a surreal quality seeps into the tale of a lonely office worker who enrolls in a course to make solitary dining easier. Tips from the course include: “Target corner tables rather than those in the middle. Seats at the bar are also good. Hang your coat or bag on the chair facing you and take advantage of tools like a book, earphones, a cell phone, or a newspaper.” The fantastic element of the story lies less in the oddity of the premise than in the narrator’s meticulously recounted neuroses and detailed rendering of processes that become seemingly cyclical. Write a scene that focuses on your character’s minute observations as they attempt to overcome something debilitating. Does the situation lend itself to a quirky or dark sense of humor?
“Where is the homeland / to lay a cradle for the dead / Where is the other shore / for poetry to step across the end point / Where is the peace / that lets the days distribute blue sky...” In Sidetracks, forthcoming in May from New Directions, the Chinese poet Bei Dao begins his book-length poem with a list of twenty-five enigmatic questions that dance around mythological, philosophical, and existential subjects. In Jeffrey Yang’s translation, the speaker’s questions lack the end punctuation of the original text, with question marks omitted. Through these unanswered questions, the poet conjures loss and nostalgia. Loosely following this structure, write a prologue to a poem that poses a series of questions gesturing toward your most pressing uncertainties. While Bei Dao’s lines are mysterious and mystical, allow your poem the tone and allusions that feel instinctive to you.
In a 1789 letter, Benjamin Franklin wrote the phrase, “in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” Franklin was reflecting on the establishment of the U.S. Constitution, which he said promised to be durable, as well as his own ailing health and mortality. This week write a personal essay that riffs off this proverb, reflecting on your own worldview about what can be certain. You might start off with the prompt: “In this world, nothing can be said to be certain, except death, taxes, and ______.” Tell the story of how you arrived at your own ideas about what you can always count on, whether good or bad. What past experiences, encounters, or memories seem to reinforce your belief?
Spring ephemerals are plants—generally wildflowers native to deciduous forests such as tulips, daffodils, crocuses, and hyacinths—that bloom only for a very short period in the early spring during the brief window of time when the sun’s light and warmth can extend to the forest floor while the trees have bare branches. Once the overhead canopy is full for the season, the flowers usually die back to dormancy with only their underground parts intact for the remainder of the year. Write a short story that revolves around the theme of an occurrence with a similarly limited time span—and one that happens only rarely. Does knowledge of its fleeting nature compel your characters to perceive or value it in different ways? Is there the possibility of a reoccurrence, however infrequently?
“Though you have known someone for more than forty years, though you have worked with them and lived with them, you do not know everything. I do not know everything—but a few things, which I will tell,” writes Mary Oliver about her partner Molly Malone Cook in her book Our World (Beacon Press, 2009), which celebrates their life and home together in Cape Cod through Oliver’s essays and Cook’s photography. Write a poem about someone you have known for a long time, but who is no longer in your life. Begin first by forming two lists: one list for the things you knew about this person and a second list of what you did not know. Select several items from each list and compose a poem that paints a portrait through the lens of your relationship. What are the things that were shared, imparted, revealed, and hidden?
The human tendency to anthropomorphize may come with risks great or small, but could there also be benefits? Last month, Indigenous leaders of New Zealand, Tahiti, and the Cook Islands signed a historic treaty granting legal personhood to whales, with the hope that the bestowal will lead to negotiations with Polynesian governments to enforce greater protective rights for the animals, which hold a position of sacred cultural importance. This week, write a personal essay that reflects on a moment, memory, or encounter that propelled you to project humanlike qualities onto an animal, whether a pet, insect, pest, or country critter. Do your personal beliefs about personhood collide or align with arguments about humanity and nature, or different types of sentience and consciousness?
In the 1989 science fiction thriller film The Abyss, a search and rescue team descends thousands of feet into the depths of the ocean after a U.S. nuclear submarine mysteriously sinks in the Caribbean Sea. The word abyss could refer to both the oceanic zone that lies in perpetual darkness and to the more general space of mystery, fear, and awe in the face of the seemingly infinite expanse that the crew encounters, including an encounter with an alien being. Write a story that revolves around characters who find themselves in conflict with something deeply unknown and unfathomable. How might feelings of isolation surface or be exacerbated in such a situation? Play around with the pacing and order and quantity of revealed information to create a feeling of suspense.
In the ancient parable of the blind men and the elephant, a visually impaired group has gathered around an unfamiliar creature to them, each encountering by touch a different part of the animal. Although there are different interpretations of the parable, a poem by nineteenth-century poet John Godfrey Saxe describes how the first of the six men falls upon the elephant and exclaims that the animal is nothing but a wall, the second feels the tusk and disagrees saying the animal is like a spear, the third approaches the squirming trunk and calls the animal snakelike, and another feels the ear and states that the animal is like a fan. The story points at the limits of subjective truths and what is lost by only seeing one side of something. Write a poem that explores a single item, image, or action through a prism of different potential truths. Experiment with expressing contradictions and coexisting truths.
How do you tell the tale of your nose, lips, teeth, eyes, brows, and cheeks? This week, study yourself closely in a mirror, and write a memoiristic essay that relays the backstories of your facial features. Are there elements that have shifted, scarred, or been modified in some way with orthodontics, makeup, surgery, or the natural processes of aging? Have there ever been parts of your countenance that you’ve disliked or preferred, and has that changed over time? Take a long, hard look at yourself and reflect on the memories that come up and how your facial expressions and textures have evolved. You might decide to cover just one or two features, or be inspired to cover each part of your face and how they all have a story.
This spring brings a rare occurrence of cicadas to the eastern United States: the simultaneous emergence of two separate broods, Brood XIII (the seventeen-year cycle Northern Illinois Brood) and Brood XIX (the thirteen-year cycle Great Southern Brood). Though otherwise harmless to humans, male cicadas serenade females at a range of up to ninety decibels, making for a pretty noisy season. In celebration of this double brood, write a short story set against the backdrop of an infrequent or unusual natural occurrence. How can you play with the imagery or symbolism of the phenomenon to expand on what your characters are experiencing? Do their actions reflect or contrast in some way with what’s happening in the background environment?
“I read Call It in the Air, / Ed’s book about his painter sister & her death / at 44, like Billie Holiday, & I start to consider / 44. No. Not the death, just the conch of it, / how it whorls & opens, limelights / —44 limelights a woman,” writes Shamala Gallagher in her poem “‘The New York Times’ Says Aloe Is a Hoax,” published in the Academy of American Poets’ Poem-a-Day series. The lines in the poem shift from lightness to darkness, and the image of recursion and spiraling reappear as the speaker allows her mind to wander freely after a long day. Write a poem that experiments with a recurring shape that you’ve observed. Consider the connotations or associations with this shape, whether it be a number, ray of light, or plant. How might a simple form inspire you to think about the shape of time in your life?
Day Jobs, an exhibition currently on display at Stanford University’s Cantor Art Center in California, examines the impact of day jobs on artists. Showcasing the work of three dozen visual artists, the accompanying catalogue offers first-hand accounts of how their employment in places like a frame shop, hair salon, and museum helped inform their creativity. The exhibit deconstructs the romanticized image of the artist and draws attention to how one’s economic and creative pursuits are often intertwined. Write a personal essay that considers how one of your day jobs unexpectedly influenced your own writing projects. How might something undertaken because of financial necessity also provide valuable ideas to explore in your art?
Sheila Heti’s new book, Alphabetical Diaries, published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux in February, is just that—rearranged sentences in order from A to Z made up of the author’s diaries kept over the course of a decade. By placing previously composed sentences into this structure, patterns emerge, and unexpected juxtapositions reveal fresh connections that form a new kind of narrative. “Basically it’s a crazy year, that’s what Claire said, this is going to be a crazy year. Be a pro, Lemons said. Be a woman. Be an individual, he suggested. Be bald-faced and strange. Be calm,” Heti writes. Take this idea of reordering your writing and use sentences from a story you’ve written in the past to create a new story. Experiment with different constraints, whether alphabetizing or grouping by another type of category, perhaps using recurring images or places. See where these arrangements take you.
Anne Carson’s 2017 poem “Saturday Night as an Adult,” which had a viral moment on X last summer, is structured as a short block of text recounting observations and thoughts around a dinner date with two couples. “We really want them to like us. We want it to go well. We overdress. They are narrow people, art people, offhand, linens,” writes Carson. “We eat intently, as if eating were conversation.” While the existential despair may seem tragicomic, Carson conveys an honest vulnerability that touches upon disappointment at the potential smallness of life. Write a poem that builds upon your observations of a mundane social encounter in order to capture larger concerns on your mind, perhaps using sharp, terse statements as Carson does in her poem. Is there humor to be found in these minute details?
In her groundbreaking 1962 book, Silent Spring, biologist Rachel Carson foretold of “a spring without voices.” Documenting the harmful effects of chemical pesticides used in the agricultural industry, her book sparked an awakening to the environmental crisis in the 1960s and 1970s and launched a movement that brought about the founding of the Environmental Protection Agency. “The history of life on earth has been a history of interaction between living things and their surroundings,” she writes. “Only within the moment of time represented by the present century has one species—man—acquired significant power to alter the nature of his world.” Write an essay that begins by examining how the environment, whether natural or manufactured, has molded you. Then consider how you have modified your surrounding environment—the nature of your world.
With Saint Patrick’s Day around the corner, you might be feeling as if luck is everywhere you look: in four-leaf clovers, Shamrock Shakes, horseshoes, a rabbit’s foot, and the number seven. Or perhaps everything is just a coincidence, or predetermined by destiny. In a 2008 Guardian essay critiquing Victor Hugo’s 1862 novel, Les Misérables, Adam Thirlwell writes: “In this gargantuan novel, everything seems utterly improbable. Every plot operates through coincidence. Normally, novelists develop techniques to naturalize and hide this. Hugo, with his technique of massive length, refuses to hide it at all. In fact, he makes sure that the plot’s coincidences are exaggerated.” Thirlwell notes Hugo’s classic novel straddles the ideas of lucky coincidence and predetermination. Based on your personal beliefs about luck, coincidence, and destiny, write a story in which a plot unfolds according to a series of consequential encounters, discoveries, and mistakes. How do your own convictions about these ideas affect your characters’ decision-making and the overall philosophy of your story?
For one year, fans of Flaco the Eurasian eagle-owl enjoyed watching him fly freely around New York City and become, for many city dwellers, a feathered symbol of liberation. Released from his cage at the Central Park Zoo by a vandal, zoo officials were initially concerned for his survival, but Flaco quickly learned to hunt prey and move about the city. His fans grew, and for them, Flaco began to represent resilience and the ability to embark on a new chapter of life, a gesture at the potential of rewilding. Sadly, Flaco died in February after apparently striking a building on the Upper West Side. This week, write a poem that incorporates a subject that signifies qualities of freedom and hope for you personally. Consider strengths and weaknesses, and address both in your poem.
A new immersive installation by artist Cauleen Smith uses scent, sight, and sound to explore the work of the late poet Wanda Coleman, widely considered the unofficial poet laureate of Los Angeles. Smith turned to Coleman’s work to help reacquaint her with the city after a sixteen-year absence. “L.A. is a shy one, a real one, and a terrible beauty,” Smith writes in the liner notes to an EP in the listening room of the exhibit. “You can’t really see how gorgeous it is in a drive-by, you have to sit with the banality, the horrors, the wildness of the city until it begins to become legible.” Select a poet who writes about your town, city, or region, and write a personal essay that reflects on their perspectives and your own. How can reading another writer’s observations and emotions about your hometown provide a refreshing lens to what might otherwise seem familiar?
When a group of strangers gathers in one setting, whether in a horror story, mystery, or in real life, the situation makes for a great premise. In The Extinction of Irena Rey (Bloomsbury, 2024), the debut novel by author and translator Jennifer Croft, eight translators from eight different countries arrive at an author’s house located in a primeval Polish forest to begin their work when the author disappears. As they investigate the author’s whereabouts while attempting to continue their work, rivalries and paranoia begin cropping up. Write a story that revolves around a group of unacquainted people, all confined in one location. Experiment with different modes of dialogue, setting description, and point of view. How will their secrets be revealed?
“Because curfews of / Because strip search at the checkpoint into / Because grandmother’s undergarments splayed on / Because two men with guns on the way to / Because grandmother saves plastic Coke liters to / Because the water could without notice be,” writes Jessica Abughattas in her poem “Litany for My Father” published by Split This Rock. The poem consists of twenty-two lines, which, all but the last line, begin with the word “because” and end abruptly, as if in mid-thought. The lines build into a powerful expression of loss and a sublimated sense of intense sorrow, how powerless one can feel in grief. Write a poem that makes use of omission or erasure in this way, taking into consideration how the format might influence your subject or theme. How does this repeated absence of words achieve emotive force?
In a recent essay in the New York Times Magazine, Mireille Silcoff explores the evolving concept of subcultures and how teenagers today are primarily engaged with subcultural aesthetics (such as Preppy, Messy French It Girl, Dark Academia, and Goblincore) popularized on social media, “a fleeting personal pleasure to be had mainly alone.” Silcoff argues that there is no longer a shared experience and work to get into a scene, and that “subcultures in general—once the poles of style and art and politics and music around which wound so many ribbons of teenage meaning—have largely collapsed.” Write a personal essay about a subculture you were engaged with long ago or more recently. Detail your introduction to the scene, the behaviors, styles, and accessories that accompanied it, and its positioning within society at large. How did this sense of belonging inform who you are today?
Maggot, Humvee, Peg, Swap-Out, Baggy Eyes, Creaky, Fast Forward, Extra Eye. These are all nicknames of characters found in Barbara Kingsolver’s Pulitzer Prize–winning novel, Demon Copperhead, whose title itself is the nickname of Damon Fields who narrates the coming-of-age story set in the Appalachian Mountains in Virginia. In an early chapter of the book, Damon talks about how prominent nicknames are in his town and that even his mother no longer uses his real name. “Some name finds you, and you come running to it like a dog until the day you die and it goes in the paper along with your official name that everybody’s forgotten,” says Damon. Write a short story in which a group of characters have colorful nicknames for each other. Start with a list of names and consider the power dynamics at play for those who use and bestow the nicknames.
“I wanted to think freely, let my mind wander, follow ideas (and phrases) wherever they might go,” said the late poet Lyn Hejinian in a 2020 interview for the Wheeler Column at the University of California in Berkeley, where she was a professor and John F. Hotchkis Chair Emerita. “For a while—but not for very long—I used poetry to express my adolescent angst and longings, but very soon I recognized the banality and the limits of that. It wasn’t self-expression I was seeking but loss of self.” Inspired by Hejinian, who died at the age of eighty-two on February 24, write a poem that avoids a preconceived intention of style or thematic experience, and instead allow these elements to emerge as you let your mind wander. How might language, in the abstract as the material of your thinking, lead to a new mode of expression or representation?
Doing laundry, washing dishes, grocery shopping, vacuuming, running out to the bank—do the chores ever end? Perhaps not, but there are small delights and incidental pleasures to be found in all the errands to be completed: a breath of fresh air, the feel of a tidy home, running into a friend, an interesting exchange with a stranger, or a long-forgotten memory that surfaces. This week write a personal essay that focuses on a single mundane task you regularly carry out and expand on the activity by looking at it from a variety of angles. Consider who taught you how to complete the chore, obscure observations, bodily movements, happenstance, and societal relevance. Can the chore become more?
Our Daily News series reports a recent New Yorker article telling the story of how a bartender in Manchester came across a novel from the 1930s and tracked down the rights for the book in order to get it back in print. Thanks to Jack Chadwick’s discovery, Caliban Shrieks by Jack Hilton will be republished in March by Vintage Classics in the United Kingdom. This week write a short story in which your character comes across an out-of-print book and finds adventure while tracking down the whereabouts of its author. Do plot points from the mysterious book come into play in your tale?
Drawing on a wealth of botanical vocabulary, Canadian poet Sylvia Legris explores themes of nature in her new book, The Principle of Rapid Peering, forthcoming in April from New Directions. In the book, the title of which is derived from early-twentieth-century ornithologist Joseph Grinnell’s study on the behavior of birds around food, Legris categorizes birds as either “those who wait passively for food to approach them” or rapid-peering active-seekers “whose target[s] of desire [are] stationary.” She writes: “The rapid-peerer’s eyes turn / as the head changes position. // The eyes focus the beak, / the instrument of capture. // ... The head follows the feet, / quick moves, to, fro. // Feet with an intelligence of texture, / bark, branch, gravel, soil.” Browse through nature guides or encyclopedias in search of unique animal attributes, specifically looking for evocative terminology with potentially expansive interpretations. Then write a poem that both touches on the term’s original meaning and imagines a new interpretation connecting to a personal experience or memory.
To celebrate publishing our two-thousandth writing prompt, spend some time this week jotting down a list of the most significant milestones of your life so far. Reflect on both traditional milestones, such as school or education-related achievements and relationship or family developments, as well as other hard-won goals that might be related to creative pursuits or something considered unconventional. You might also choose to focus on an important event that occurred unexpectedly and set your life in a new, progressive direction. Write an essay that expands upon one or more of these milestones. In what ways has your outlook on life evolved over the years, from before the event, immediately after, and then many years later?
While the origins of the phrase “the one that got away” may come from the sport of fishing, and how the biggest and best would-be catch seems to always escape, the phrase can also refer to a past love, one that was lost to the whims of fate. Oftentimes this lost love is a source of regret or nostalgia, as is the case in Katy Perry’s song which takes the phrase as its title and reflects on a relationship from the “summer after high school.” Write a scene in a short story that sees one of your main characters recounting a lost love. Does the character encounter something that reminds them of their long-ago amour or does the reminiscence set off a further chain of consequences?
“You have changed me already. I am a fireball / That is hurtling towards the sky to where you are,” begins Dorothea Lasky’s “Poem to an Unnameable Man” from her 2010 collection, Black Life. The poem’s speaker regales their addressee with the projected story of their intense connection, as Lasky incorporates cosmic imagery, a confessional tone, and grandiose language combined with an intimate, idiosyncratic voice. This week write a poem that traverses the galaxy and addresses someone or something you feel tethered to, as if you’re “hurtling towards” them. As you write, play around with figurative language that points to both sizable and smaller, nuanced observations.
“Why do we dream? Because it’s the only mechanism our brain has for sorting through all the myriad associations it discovers and deciding which ones are potentially of value,” says Robert Stickgold, professor and director of the Harvard Center for Sleep and Cognition and coauthor of When Brains Dream: Exploring the Science and Mystery of Sleep, in his TEDx Talk on the purpose of dreams and how sleep sews together the pieces of our memories. Write an essay that begins with the description of a dream you’ve had recently, recounting it in as much detail as you can remember. Then expand and explore how the conflicts and emotions brought up by your dream might be connected to another time in your life when you experienced something similar. What do you think your brain was trying to figure out?
This year’s Lunar New Year begins on February 10 and celebrates the year of the dragon. Festivities vary in different cultures, however in Chinese traditions, they begin with the first new moon of the year and culminate with the full moon two weeks later. The two-week period allows for time to travel and visit with family, celebrate and gather with friends, set a new tone for the year, anticipate the forthcoming spring season, and make merry with food and drink. Write a story that takes place during a two-week stretch of time, perhaps revolving around a festive event. How does the restrictive length of time create a sense of urgency or tension?
“In writing the sonnets of frank, the form was a rescue raft, a lifeline, the safety net beneath the trapeze act. I liked how it equalized every event, relationship, song, or story that the individual sonnet might take on,” says poet Diane Seuss in a 2022 Publishers Weekly interview with Maya C. Popa about her Pulitzer Prize–winning collection, in which she explores with brutal frankness her personal history and themes of death, illness, addiction, and love. Inspired by Seuss, write two fourteen-line sonnets with vastly different subjects. In using a specific form to create a sort of equalizing force between topics, how do the minor victories and upsets of mundane occurrences find balance with the heavier ups and downs of your life?
What does a Bill look like? What about a Michael? As the U.S. primary election season progresses, an innocuous excerpt from Republican presidential candidate Nikki Haley’s 2012 memoir, Can’t Is Not an Option, has resurfaced on social media and news outlets. In the book, Haley writes that when she began dating her husband, he went by his first name Bill, but she decided that he didn’t look like a Bill and found his middle name Michael suited him better, and he became known as Michael. Write a personal essay that revolves around your sentiments about your own given name. Have you ever thought about changing it? Do you think you’ve taken on certain personality traits because of it, or in spite of it?
In his essay published in the Evergreen Review, Younis B. Azeem writes from his viewpoint as a young student newly arrived in New York from Pakistan about the culture of smoking cigarettes. “Among the few indisputable facts of the world, right below gravity and above the moon landing, is that cigarettes will kill you,” he writes. “In America that belief translates into a two-part statement, the second one unsaid, where it’s declared that cigarettes will kill you before anything else does. This right here, this inherent first-world privilege is something that all the best efforts of Big Tobacco cannot undo.” Azeem asserts that in other places in the world, there are hazardous living conditions much more likely to be the cause of death than smoking. Write a short story in which a newcomer posits an unexpected, iconoclastic, or unusual opinion. How does this create a disruption to your other characters’ everyday lives?
“Like a snail with a shell of sticks // — she loads them on her back — // Like a camel with a hump of sticks // — on her back, on her back — // Like a horse with a knight of sticks and a stick for a sword,” writes Valzhyna Mort in her poem “In the Woods of Language, She Collects Beautiful Sticks” published in the Academy of American Poets’ Poem-a-Day series. In her description of this poem, Mort explains how an inability to write another poem she was working on made her “feel homeless in language and in poetry” and that writing this poem became “a bit of homemaking” for her. Write a poem that reflects your own process when your mind wanders away from writing and you must find a way back into the home of language. Does it involve the vocabulary of domesticity, construction, or helpful creatures?
In a recent New York Times article titled “January’s Secret: It’s the Best Month,” journalist Steven Kurutz makes a case for the first month of the year. Not usually a fan favorite with its short days and cold weather, Kurutz points out the month’s many unsung advantages: post-holiday relaxation, less crowded streets, the reassuring feeling of getting back into routine, and how the blissfully uneventful stretch of weeks can offer a calming break from social obligations. This week write an essay about your favorite month of the year. Even if it’s one that revolves around a holiday or exciting seasonal offerings, take some time to reflect on the unsung pleasures of the month.
Epiphany is a religious day of celebration commemorating the visit by the Three Wise Men to the baby Jesus with their gifts, observed in January. Originating from the Greek word meaning “manifestation,” in a work of literature, an epiphany generally consists of a different sort of appearance—a moment that seems to suddenly illuminate the truth, one that oftentimes changes the course of a character’s life. Write a scene in a new or ongoing short story in which your main character experiences such a dawning realization. What is the catalyst for this discovery? How does this newfound insight transform their subsequent actions or interactions with another character or a future decision?