Luca Guadagnino’s 2015 drama film A Bigger Splash follows a couple vacationing on an Italian island whose peace is disrupted by the unexpected arrival of an ex-lover with his daughter in tow. Marianne, a world-renowned rock star, has just had a surgical operation leaving her unable to speak throughout the film, with the exception of occasional whispers. This week write a short story that builds a sense of tension by having a typically expected mode of communication temporarily shut down. What misunderstandings occur? While one means of communication is hindered, is there another method that compensates for the loss?
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
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Edges of Ailey is an immersive exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art centered around the twentieth-century choreographer, dancer, and artist who founded the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. The show spotlights multimedia presentations of Ailey’s work, recorded footage, notebooks and drawings, as well as works that inspired Ailey and have been inspired by him in the forms of literature, music, and visual art. Write a poem centered on movements of the body, whether a creative motion like a dance move or the everyday, repetitive motion of carrying out a task. Allow yourself the freedom to experiment with page space—choosing different sizes or styles of script, incorporating small drawings or cutouts—to create a collage-like piece.
The science fiction thriller television series Severance, created by Dan Erickson, is centered around a group of characters who work on a classified project at a corporation and undergo a “severance” procedure, in which their nine-to-five workday selves have compartmentalized memories, separate from their outside-world selves, in effect creating two entirely differentiated lived experiences. In the pilot episode, it’s revealed that the main character Mark underwent the procedure after he lost his wife to a car accident, and in his grief was unable to continue with his job as a college history professor. Write a nonfiction piece that explores this idea of severance, speculating on a certain portion or element of your life that you would consider “severing” from your day-to-day consciousness. Though there might be gains, would they outweigh the losses?
“Det finnes ikke dårlig vær, bare dårlige klær” is a rhyming proverb in Norwegian that means there’s no bad weather, just bad clothing. This sentiment points not just to a high value of functional comfort, but to the cultural importance of time spent outdoors—especially in a country whose inland regions see considerably cold temperatures and snowfall. Write a short story in which the main action is set in motion by a discrepancy between a character’s choice of clothing and the weather, such as light clothing on a frigid day, too many layers that prove to be too hot, or delicate clothing that encounters splattered mud or dust storms. What are the circumstances that lead your character to don an inappropriate ensemble? Consider what the initial decision, the response, and the ultimate conclusion reveal about your character’s personality and motivations.
In a Sight and Sound magazine interview from last November, filmmaker David Lynch, who passed away earlier this month, was asked about the inspiration for his latest album with longtime collaborator Chrystabell. Publicity materials for the album described how Lynch experienced a mysterious, revelatory vision while out for a nighttime walk in the woods. In the interview, Lynch admits this revelation isn’t quite what happened, but that he does “walk in the woods in my mind.” Jot down notes about the type of atmosphere, shape, mystery, or emotions you associate with a walk in the woods, and how might you “walk in your mind.” Allow your imagination to wander freely into any shadowy corners. Then, compose a poem that results from this creative exercise.
Mati Diop’s 2024 hybrid documentary, Dahomey, chronicles the repatriation of twenty-six cultural treasures—including sculptures and a throne plundered during France’s colonial rule over the Kingdom of Dahomey—following them from the Musée du quai Branly in Paris back to the present-day Republic of Benin. Diop intersperses her footage with poetic voice-over narration representing the sentiments of a statue of a king, and uses cameras placed in the perspective of the looted artifacts while they’re in transit, the screen going dark when the crates are sealed and shipped. Think of an artwork, artifact, or other personally significant object that, due to its location in time or geography, has existed during a tumultuous period. Write a lyrical essay that gives the item voice and expression, using imaginative language to animate the inanimate with the capability of experience or witnessing.
“Now is the winter of our discontent / Made glorious summer by this sun of York; / And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house / In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.” In the soliloquy delivered by the title character in William Shakespeare’s play Richard III as he considers the outlook of his family’s reign, the “winter” refers to the lowest point of unhappy times. From this nadir, clouds will part and the sun will shine upon more fortunate circumstances. Taking inspiration from this metaphorical image, write a short story that begins with acknowledgment of a rock-bottom situation—a winter of sorts. What are the factors in place that convey to your characters that things can only go up from this moment forward?
Ariel Francisco’s poem “On the Shore of Lake Atitlán, Apparently I Ruined Breakfast,” published in the Academy of American Poets’ Poet-a-Day series, recounts a puckish remark which derails the upbeat mood of a meal with the speaker’s mother and aunt. Commenting about the poem, Francisco acknowledges his teenage immaturity returning to him as an adult on this trip to Guatemala, his mother’s homeland. “This poem tries to capture what I often do in real life: upend a beautiful moment with something flippant,” he says. This week write a poem that attempts to capture a tendency you have, perhaps one that you’ve been self-critical about in your life. Francisco’s poem strikes a lighthearted tone throughout, which you might decide to mirror, or you could magnify your behavior’s ultimate consequences for a dramatically darker note that turns unexpectedly bright.
During a time of year when many people are taking stock of the previous twelve months and preparing for new resolutions and fresh starts, take a brief contrarian turn and compose a personal essay that focuses on the well-trodden: old habits, die-hard routines, and tried-and-true tendencies. What are some things that you’d passionately never want to give up? Perhaps your essay is a compilation of a list of objects, behaviors, people, or traditions that have proven their worth over an extended period of time; or you might concentrate your essay on one specific subject, something dear you vow to hold onto. Are there trade-offs, sacrifices, or curiosities about the costs of keeping the old? How do you weigh any misgivings against your convictions?
In the film Nightbitch, an adaptation of Rachel Yoder’s 2021 novel of the same name directed by Marielle Heller, a new mother contends with the growing feeling of being trapped in domestic caretaking, having left her job and put aside her pursuits as a visual artist in order to stay at home and take care of her small toddler. With her husband away for work, the repetitiveness, exhaustion, and difficulties of motherhood take a surreal turn, as her instincts begin to manifest in canine form. Write a short story that begins similarly with the acknowledgment of an element of horror in something very mundane and common, perhaps an aspect of a relationship, a job, or milestone that isn’t often depicted in gory detail or a negative light. You might find that adding a touch of fantasy or dark comedy will help illuminate your perspective.
“One must have a mind of winter,” begins Wallace Stevens’s 1921 poem “The Snow Man,” which moves from describing iconically icy and desolate imagery of winter—“the pine-trees crusted with snow,” “the junipers shagged with ice”—to pointing out the human beholder’s subjectivity as the agent who projects this wintry outlook. This week, write a poem that takes inspiration from Stevens’s first line and explore what it means to you to have “a mind of winter.” Does it entail nothingness, quietude, withholding, generosity, cheer, beauty, love? How does your selection of seasonal associations determine your poem’s tonal direction? You might even experiment with approaching this prompt more than once, when your mood about the season feels distinctively different.
In a recent New York Times article about New Year’s resolutions, Holly Burns describes the value of creating resolutions that are connected to other people. Burns cites Stephanie Harrison, author of New Happy: Getting Happiness Right in a World That’s Got It Wrong (TarcherPerigee, 2024), who says: “Our society has treated happiness as a highly individualistic pursuit—the idea being that it’s something that you make for yourself, that you get for yourself, and you do it all alone,” and yet, research shows that interpersonal relationships contribute to a significant portion of people’s happiness. Inspired by the idea of creating resolutions for the year (or beyond) that involve spending time with others, write a personal essay that reflects on times when you have discovered joy when helping or being helped by another person, perhaps unexpectedly. How might you incorporate this into future habits?
In Richard Curtis’s 2003 romantic comedy Love Actually, love is all around us—and it manifests in a wide range of ways for the characters in the film: romantic, platonic, familial, professional, and all sorts of in-between zones as well. The film, which has become a holiday classic, explores the lives of several characters and their loves, some of which are evenly balanced, while others are unrequited or lopsided; some which are new and some old. Write a short story that tells the story of multiple types of loving relationships, perhaps including both love that may seem straightforward or obvious, as well as love that is less so. When you have multiple types of love juxtaposed in one story, what do their similarities and differences illuminate?
Just last month, the bald eagle officially became the national bird of the United States, signed into law by President Biden. Though its official status is new, the bald eagle has long served as an emblem of the country, depicted on the Great Seal and on coins and bills for much of the twentieth century—a symbol of strength, courage, freedom, and independence. Many U.S. states use reptiles, amphibians, insects, fish, and even dinosaurs as their symbols. This week research and consider the various animal emblems and symbols in your midst and choose one to write a poem that draws a personal connection to the animal’s symbolic meaning, whether real or imagined. As you triangulate a relationship between yourself, an animal symbol, and a physical location in this way, explore any unexpected thematic directions within your poem.
In the documentary No Other Land, made by a Palestinian-Israeli collective of four directors over the course of five years, a group of Palestinian villages in the southern West Bank is overrun by the Israeli military as they raid and bulldoze homes while families are forced to witness the destruction. At a recent screening in New York, the filmmakers shared their thoughts in a written statement: “We as young activists offer this film to the world, which is both a document of a war crime happening now in the occupied West Bank, and a plea for a different future.” Write a personal essay that begins with recounting a recent significant event that you witnessed, noting as much granular detail as possible. If available, you might refer to photos or a paper trail to help you remember specifics. In addition to the event itself, reflect on your outlook after the event, documenting both for posterity’s sake.
The dreaded rejection letter, whether from a job application or a beloved literary journal, is often met with mixed feelings of inadequacy and disappointment. Something you worked hard on, had high hopes for, or saw a future in just didn’t pan out. Instead of imagining the receiving end, take the initiative to write a rejection letter to one of your characters. Consider the circumstance for the letter, if it’s professional or personal, and how well the writer knows the addressee. Is there room to infuse some humor or will you use this as an opportunity to write the letter you’ve always wished was sent to you? Write with truth and intent.
In her 2022 New York Times essay “The Shape of the Void: Toward a Definition of Poetry,” Elisa Gabbert writes about what makes language poetic. “I think poetry leaves something out,” she writes. “The missingness of poetry slows readers down, making them search for what can’t be found.” Write a poem that revolves around this idea of missingness and leaving something out. To facilitate a mindset of absence, you might choose a subject—a childhood memory, a relationship dynamic, a strange occurrence—that feels inherently cryptic, incoherent, or mysterious. Consider playing with line breaks, spacing, syntax, and diction, to make what’s absent hyper-present. How do the words on the page gesture toward the shape of what can’t be found?
These cold and dark winter months, coupled with holiday get-togethers catching up with old friends and spending time with family, make for a good time to revisit cozy, old favorites: beloved books and movies enjoyed on repeat that bring back memories. But how do these nostalgic works hold up? As cultural norms, perspectives, and language evolve around us, what once seemed hilarious, edgy, insightful, shocking, or relevant may no longer seem that way. Revisit a favorite childhood book or film, or simply one that you’ve encountered many times, and write an essay that reflects on how the work has, or has not, held up. Include any sociocultural norms that have evolved and the parts of you that have changed to offer a new perspective.
There are those who think John McTiernan’s 1988 film Die Hard is the farthest thing from a Christmas movie—an action-thriller blockbuster about a New York City police officer, played by Bruce Willis, who attempts to bring down a bunch of stereotypical villains holding his estranged wife and others hostage in a high-rise building in Los Angeles—while others passionately disagree, citing the fact that the film is set on Christmas Eve at an office holiday party with a soundtrack of seasonally appropriate Christmas songs. This week write a short story that occurs on the eve or day of a specific holiday, while subverting or upending conventions and expectations of the type of narrative usually attributed to this occasion. What conflicting themes and actions will you include in your blockbuster story?
In Solvej Balle’s On the Calculation of Volume, a septology whose first two books translated from the Danish by Barbara J. Haveland were published in November by New Directions, the protagonist is an antiquarian bookseller residing with her husband in France, who suddenly begins reliving the same day over and over again—a mysterious and seemingly endless predicament that creates a spectrum of conflicts in her life. Write a poem that imagines this Groundhog Day premise. Choose a particular day in your life that’s significant to you, and then write into the possibilities and quandaries that arise as the same day, and same actions, recur endlessly. In your imagination, what transpires when you know exactly what will happen each day while everyone else around you repeats their steps? How can you play with replicating the repetition in verse form?
In National Lampoon’s Vacation comedy film series from the 1980s—comprising of a cross-country road trip, a tour through Europe, and a Christmas holiday gathering, as well as several offshoots—much of the humor stems from the discrepancy between Clark Griswold’s expectations of a “perfect” family time with his wife and two children, and the madcap mishaps, accidents, and disasters that occur while attempting to fulfill obligations. Write a memoiristic essay that recounts a family trip or occasion when not everything went as planned. Did one moment cause everything to go off the rails, or was it something more gradual? Reflect on your expectations or standards and how reevaluating this incident might contribute to a more expansive idea of how a family functions.
Anthropomorphism refers to the behavior of projecting human attributes onto nonhuman animals and objects, while anthropodenial is a term that refers to an assumption of human exceptionalism and is a blindness to the humanlike characteristics of other animals. This week write a short story that includes both an incident of anthropomorphism and an incident of anthropodenial. You might decide to have one character whose perspective swings from one tendency to the other; or two characters who discover they have oppositional beliefs. Over the course of the story, is there a middle ground to be reached? How does someone’s beliefs about the differences between human and nonhuman animals connect to other aspects of their personality?
“I caught this morning morning’s minion, king- / dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding / Of the rolling level underneath him steady air,” begins Gerard Manley Hopkins’s 1877 poem “The Windhover,” a sonnet in which the poet wields the image of a kestrel in flight to explore his conflicted feelings about spirituality and art. The beginning lines of the poem are filled with repetition—of words, alliteration, consonance, and assonance—all of which place a weight onto the words, slowing the pace as one reads it aloud. Try your hand at weighing down the beginning of a new poem with repetition, using a variety of rhymes and sound. After a leisure beginning, does your poem suddenly break free and open, or is it more gradual?
The act of presidential pardons is in the news again, and not just for pardoning Thanksgiving turkeys. Public interest in this presidential power granted by the U.S. Constitution, and inspired by an early English law granting kings “the prerogative of mercy,” has peaked due to the sitting president’s recent decision to pardon his son. If you had the power to pardon someone you love for their offenses, would you? Write a personal essay revolving around this thought experiment, reflecting on your own ideas about forgiveness, punishment, and justice. Choose someone you have had a close relationship with at some point in your life as the subject of your pardon, and feel free to openly interpret what constitutes an offense. Imagine how this act of mercy and power could transform both of your lives.
‘Tis the season for gifting, which can come with stressful shopping lists, awkward gift exchanges, wrapped packages awaiting under the tree, and festive advent calendars full of treats. This week write a short story that revolves around a character who must prepare a holiday present for someone. Create a backstory of their relationship and consider whether unsaid expectations come from something that’s happened in the past. Does it turn out to be the perfect gift or is it way off the mark? You might decide to infuse your story with elements of comedy, horror, fantasy, or surrealism—or combine all of these tones into a new classic.
For nearly three decades, from the early 1980s until 2013, Dr. Jonathan Zizmor’s skincare ads for his dermatology practice were a mainstay in New York City subway cars, touting treatments for various skin problems and displaying the doctor’s own slightly smiling visage. A 2016 New York Times article noting his retirement stated: “To know Dr. Zizmor is to know the city’s secret handshake, to appreciate its quirkier, more pedestrian pleasures that natives claim as their own.” What’s hyperlocal to where you live? Brainstorm some ideas of things that might qualify as local lore, your city’s secret handshake—perhaps some idiosyncratic window displays or advertisements, a distinctive element of the urban landscape, a quirk of the natural environment, or public street art. Write an ode to one of these items, to commemorate and share its pedestrian pleasures.
“As a Palestinian, I have been brought up on stories and storytelling. It’s both selfish and treacherous to keep a story to yourself—stories are meant to be told and retold,” writes the late Refaat Alareer in his collection of poetry and prose, If I Must Die, out now from OR Books. “If I allowed a story to stop, I would be betraying my legacy, my mother, my grandmother, and my homeland.” Taking inspiration from Alareer’s words about the power of storytelling, reflect on a story from your own life that is “meant to be told.” Write a memoiristic piece that uses evocative imagery and dynamic pacing, paying particular attention to elements that might facilitate its oral retelling.
Restaurants in Dhaka have begun serving human meat in the world of Bangladeshi author Mojaffor Hossain’s short story “Meet Human Meat,” translated from the Bengali by Mohammad Shafiqul Islam. The characters in the story discuss this new trend with matter-of-factness, talking about logistics like supply and demand, how it’s advertised on menus, where the humans are sourced, the various modes of preparation, and dish accompaniments. Hossain uses this satirical conceit to touch upon larger topics, such as the Rohingya refugee crisis with restaurants serving “the meat of Rohingyas.” Write a short story that hinges on an outrageous idea, using it as a conceit for larger themes you’re interested in exploring. You may find that setting your story in a universe in which something taboo is commonplace and unremarkable will allow you some unexpected creative freedom.
“You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino’s new novel, If on a winter’s night a traveler. Relax. Concentrate. Dispel every other thought. Let the world around you fade,” wrote Italo Calvino on the first page of his 1979 novel, translated from the Italian by William Weaver. Calvino’s postmodern structure comprises twenty-two sections, with each odd-numbered passage narrated by a second-person “you” (you, the reader; you, a character). Each even-numbered passage, in turn, is the start of a new work, a fictional book that the “you” character discovers and reads, only to find that it ends abruptly and picks up in the next even-numbered passage as an entirely different work. Taking a cue from this puzzle of an approach, compose a poem that alternates between two narratives united by a winter’s night. How might a second-person “you” character be utilized in your poem? Is there an emotional progression connected to the accumulation of images and themes?
In Aesop’s fable of the grasshopper and the ant, the grasshopper spends the summer playing music, singing, and dancing, while the ants spend all their time working to store up food for the winter. Traditionally, the moral of the story is about the importance of preparation and hard work, as once winter arrives, the grasshopper finds himself hungry and begs the ants for food. The children’s book The Ant or the Grasshopper? (Scribner, 2014) written by Toni Morrison and her son Slade Morrison complicates the conventional reading of the fable and questions the overlapping roles of art, labor, and value. The grasshopper Foxy G asks his ant friend Kid A, “How can you say I never worked a day? ART is WORK. It just looks like play.” Inspired by this spin, write an essay that reflects on how you see the role of the artist functioning in contemporary society. How do writers fit into our culture’s value systems?
Fools and lovers, emperors and empresses, devils and death, chariots and towers, moons and stars: The cards of a tarot deck are filled with scenes and images of a colorful assortment of characters, arcane symbols, flora and fauna, and celestial ephemera that can spark one’s imagination. In Chelsey Pippin Mizzi’s guidebook Tarot for Creativity: A Guide for Igniting Your Creative Practice (Chronicle Books, 2024), the symbols and archetypes on each of the seventy-eight cards are described in a way to fuel creativity and experimentation. Consider this creative connection to tarot and write a story in which one of your characters stumbles upon an errant tarot card at a crucial moment of indecision. Search online or through a book for a tarot card that resonates with the tone or theme of your narrative. What is depicted on the card and how does your character read into the imagery?
Anne Sexton’s 1962 ekphrastic poem “The Starry Night,” inspired by Vincent van Gogh’s 1889 painting of the same name, begins with a snippet from a letter written by the painter to his brother: “That does not keep me from having a terrible need of—shall I say the word—religion. Then I go out at night to paint the stars.” Choose a favorite work of visual art by an artist for whom you can find a bit of personal information, whether it’s something they’ve written or details about their daily life, philosophies, thematic interests, or relationships with close ones. How can you connect what you learn about the artist with the artwork itself? Write an ekphrastic poem exploring the emotions and thoughts that come to the surface when you look at the artwork, allowing yourself to incorporate a creative synthesis of their biographical details.
What happens when language fails? Writers are always in search of the mot juste, the perfect turn of poetic phrase, the best sequence of sentences for a story or essay. But in real life, communicating is not always about the most creative arrangement of words, and saying the wrong thing at the wrong time can hurt someone you love, especially when it’s in writing. This week consider writing a personal essay that reflects on memories of past experiences, situations, or encounters in which something went awry in the process of expressing yourself in words—perhaps due to crossed wires around usage, tone, or context. What forces were underlying the discrepancy or distance between intended and perceived sentiment? How does looking closely at this incident transform your understanding of language and its consequences?
Uzumaki: Spiral Into Horror is an animated television miniseries adaptation of the manga horror series created by manga author and artist Junji Ito. The story takes place in the fictional Japanese town of Kurouzo, which is overtaken by a mysterious, and ultimately, deadly obsession with spirals. Spirals begin appearing everywhere: in a stirred-up bath and bowl of soup, in the pattern on a fish cake, in the smoke from a crematorium, in a potter’s wheel, in a head of hair, and the whirl of a snail’s shell. Taking a page from Ito’s unusual premise of a simple shape transforming into a malignant force, write a short story in which an unexpected terror arises from a seemingly innocuous object or image. How does an everyday item become imbued with horrific capabilities to create an atmosphere of foreboding?
In the universe of the 2023 French film The Animal Kingdom (Le Règne animal), directed by Thomas Cailley, a wave of mutations have begun to transform some humans into animals. A woman who has begun mutating escapes into a forest while her husband and teenage son search for her. The unpredictable affliction causes chaos, as people adjust to seeing strangers and loved ones with fingers gradually turning into claws, fur growing on their skin, noses turning into beaks, and arms becoming feathered wings—all while fighting over conflicting perspectives of freedom and acceptance. Write a poem that explores your beliefs around these themes, perhaps pulling in fantastic metaphors or flights of fancy to assist you in your exploration.
Spend some time jotting down notes or a list of things you have had a strong aversion to or found extremely disagreeable, allowing yourself to think generally, but honestly, about issues revolving around contemporary politics, ethics, or culture. In James Baldwin’s 1963 book The Fire Next Time, he wrote: “I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.” Can you relate? Write an essay that examines the various components that form the basis for your grievances, where or from whom they might have originated, and how they may have been reinforced over time. Reflect on the pain beneath it all, if you were to reckon with this clinging to hate.
Autumn arrives with a multitude of textures and sensations: the wool fuzz of a cozy sweater or a favorite blanket, the dry crackle of crumbling leaves, sharply slanted golden sunlight, and a strong gust of wind. This week pick up a previously unfinished story, an in-progress story, or start one afresh, and begin by writing an autumnal scene that takes inspiration from an especially seasonal image or sensation. Include contradictory elements in your scene, such as light and dark, soft and sharp, silence and noise, warmth and coldness, that are often a part of fickle fall feelings. Does the specification of this time of year bring up fresh realizations about any of your characters, or how they’re inclined to behave? Or could it propel you toward a different narrative mood?
“I changed the order of my books on the shelves. / Two days later, the war broke out. / Beware of changing the order of your books!” writes Mosab Abu Toha in his poem “Under the Rubble,” which appears in his new collection, Forest of Noise (Knopf, 2024). In the poem, Abu Toha combines moments of whimsy, with distressing references to violence, death, and loss to present a portrayal of the day-to-day existence during a time of catastrophic war. Write a poem that ruminates on a difficult issue in your life that incorporates elements of playfulness or wonder in your exploration of the subject. Consider experimenting with a series of variating short stanzas as Abu Toha does in his poem, changing the tone with each section. Abu Toha speaks about his book in an interview in the November/December issue of Poets & Writers Magazine.
A situationship, as defined by the Oxford Learner’s Dictionary, is “a romantic relationship in which the couple are not official partners.” The validity of situationships has become the center of discussions, from Reddit posts to the list of finalists for Oxford Languages 2023 word of the year. In a recent Electric Literature piece, author Christine Ma-Kellams argues that situationships make for great stories, including within novels by Elif Batuman, Rachel Cusk, and Jennifer Egan. Write a personal essay on your understanding of situationships. Have you ever found yourself in one? Was there a mutual agreement or were there unsaid uncertainties in the relationship? Consider how you would define a situationship and what that means to you.
To do something at the eleventh hour is to accomplish a task at the last possible moment. The origins of the phrase are unknown, although there is some indication it may come from a Bible parable or simply from the idea of the eleventh hour being close to the twelve o’clock hour at midnight signaling the end of a day. This week write a short story in which your main character manages to pull off a miraculous feat at the eleventh hour. It might be something seemingly mundane—a household chore, a work project, a last-minute gift for a special occasion—that turns out to have wider implications or consequences. Is waiting until it’s almost too late typical of your character or wildly unexpected? What drama is drawn from your character flying by the seat of their pants?
The practice of cutting one’s hair can sometimes be an emotional process—the shedding of one’s layers much like the way a snake sheds its skin. For some, cutting hair might symbolize a spiritual rebirth, embracing new beginnings and letting go of the past. For others, it can be a traumatic experience. Haircuts can be well thought-out decisions, premediated and anticipated, or spur of the moment, an abrupt change to one’s appearance. Write a poem about your last haircut or the experience of observing a haircut. Include details of where you were, who was cutting the hair, the sounds of the clippers or scissors, and the emotions you experienced. Read “Haircut” by Elizabeth Alexander and “Hair” by Orlando Ricardo Menes for further inspiration.
In the 1990 film Arachnophobia directed by Frank Marshall, a family doctor, his wife, and their two young children move from San Francisco to a small town in rural California that is soon overtaken by deadly spiders. Dr. Ross Jennings suffers from arachnophobia, an overwhelmingly intense fear of spiders, stemming from a traumatic childhood incident when he witnessed a spider crawling up his bed and over his body and was too paralyzed with terror to move. Write a personal essay that examines the origins of one of your own fears—either serious, silly, or somewhere in-between. Are there elements of your reaction to this object of fear that seem reasonable or irrational? How have you countered, enabled, or worked to coexist with this fear?
“‘It isn’t fair, it isn’t right,’ Mrs Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.” The final sentence of Shirley Jackson’s classic short story “The Lottery” is included in a short list of “The Best Last Lines in Books” on Penguin Random House UK’s website, along with selections from a range of books by authors such as Ralph Ellison, Zora Neale Hurston, Franz Kafka, Ira Levin, and Virginia Woolf. Many of these lines are powerfully evocative and open-ended, whether darkly humorous, straight-up horrifying, or daringly hopeful. Jot down a list of your favorite last lines and use one of them as a prompt to provide either the first sentence of a new short story or to inspire a plot. How do the emotions, weight, and mood of this final sentence affect the way you use it in your own piece?
In early September, mysterious white blobs began washing ashore on the beaches of Newfoundland in Canada, described as sticky, spongy, and doughy. Beachcombers and scientists alike were confounded—were the blobs of animal or plant origins? Were they toxic or innocuous, or created from industrial waste? As scientists continue to collect samples and run tests on these mysterious blobs, take this period of uncertainty to write a poem about a blob: these beach blobs, a blob inspired by science fiction, an explicitly frightening or comedic blob, or perhaps an experience that simply feels blob-like. How does the slipperiness of this concept lend itself to metaphors in your poem? Consider experimenting with the shape of your text, creating a concrete, yet blobby, poem.
In a 2019 New York Times essay revisiting Alexander Payne’s 1999 film, Election—based on Tom Perrotta’s novel of the same name about a high school student-body election showdown between overachiever Tracy Flick and a social studies teacher—critic A.O. Scott reconsiders his understanding of the movie’s hero and villain twenty years later. “Payne’s film exposes the casual misogyny baked into the structures of civic and scholastic life,” writes Scott. “How despicably does a man have to behave before he forfeits our sympathy? How much does a woman—a teenage girl—have to suffer before she earns it?” Look back on previous presidential election years and reflect on major events that may have occurred in your personal life during those times. Were there heroes and villains who you might cast in a different light now?
In the title story of Saeed Teebi’s 2022 debut collection, Her First Palestinian (House of Anansi Press), a new romance begins with the main character, Abed, acknowledging what is involved in getting to know another person: “Not long after the first joys of finding each other had settled, Nadia asked me if I would teach her about my country. It was inevitable. The walls of my Toronto apartment were conspicuously covered with Palestinian artifacts, and donation brochures featuring Gazan children were often lying around.” With the story’s title and this opening, Teebi invites the reader to consider and reflect on their own expectations of how this relationship will develop. Write a short story that charts the progression of a relationship, from somewhere near the beginning to somewhere near the end. What character details do you explicitly put into place, and what assumptions do you rely on to create a sense of expectation?
In Rae Armantrout’s poem “Unbidden,” which appears in her collection Versed (Wesleyan University Press, 2009), the poet’s use of short lines in conjunction with enjambment contribute to a sense of disjointedness. “The ghosts swarm. / They speak as one / person. Each / loves you. Each / has left something / undone,” writes Armantrout. This week compose a poem that revolves around a feeling of inconclusiveness. For your subject matter, consider a situation or relationship from your past that feels unfinished, one that continues to haunt you with questions. Deploy enjambment strategically—splitting up specific phrases and ending lines with significantly weighted words—to create a sense of discontinuity and unknowability.
From 2006 to 2010, and again from 2020 to 2022, filmmaker David Lynch recorded daily morning weather reports that were broadcast from Los Angeles-based radio stations, his own website, and on YouTube. In some episodes, the weather report included just the date, temperature, and a couple of words describing what Lynch saw out of his window. Other times, reports included short observations or thoughts about his or others’ creative projects, and what he planned on having for lunch later in the day. “It’s a Saturday. Here in L.A., a sunny morning, a pretty strong breeze blowing right now. 52 degrees Fahrenheit, around 11 degrees Celsius,” says Lynch in a 2022 entry. Write a personal essay that begins with a weather report and then launches into what you’ve been thinking about recently, perhaps in conjunction with a book, film, or other piece of art you’ve encountered. How does a weather report set the tone?
“I cannot help but admire Rooney the storyteller, willing to toe that tricky line between the pleasure-read and philosophy, determined to choose cooperation over cynicism,” writes Jessi Jezewska Stevens in her review of Sally Rooney’s latest novel, Intermezzo (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2024), published in 4Columns. In the article, Stevens considers the task of a work of literature that attempts to be both a novel-of-ideas and a realist romance. This week compose a short story that simultaneously explores a philosophical idea close to your heart and chronicles a romantic relationship’s ups and downs. Do your characters discuss large issues with each other in pages of dialogue or through e-mail correspondences, or do they embody the ideas in another way? Are there additional ways you can think of to accomplish portraying both tasks?
While scientists have long known that spiders can fly across entire oceans on their silk threads by ballooning through strong wind currents, it’s only more recently that research has demonstrated their ability to travel on Earth’s electric field. Unlike humans, spiders can detect the naturally-occurring global electric field known as the ionosphere with the tiny sensory hairs on their bodies and prepare to lift off and take flight. Write a poem that focuses on modes of movement, perhaps imagining the ways in which humans have moved through space and how this has changed over time with new inventions and technology. What might be possible in the future? Try experimenting with rhythm and spacing, and explore what type of diction feels most reflective of the pacing you seek.