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Writing Prompts

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Should be a bit of a simple, yet fun game. The goal of the game is to write a post in response to a prompt, then provide your own. Prompts don't need to have anything to do with your entry, but they should give someone material to work with.

Response posts can be however long you want. The point is to flex your writer's muscles.

Prompts should be short. A good prompt invites, gives an idea and inspires but not ham-handedly, ex.

Prompt: You're waiting for the bus. The bus is twenty minutes late due to an accident. However, now you're late for your appointment with the HR division of that salesman job you wanted. When you get on the bus, you decide to confront the bus driver.
That's too long, too specific. All the details are filled in. Remember, you're prompting roleplayers who like to imagine their characters in various situations, so it needs to be open-ended enough for people to hop into.

Prompt: Your character's waiting for the bus. The bus is late, and now so's your character. Finally, the bus arrives.
You could even leave out "finally, the bus arrives", which indicates the scene is to be written out as the bus arrives... but we no longer provide answers to what sort of character it is, how long it is, why it's late, and what the character does.

Just write a response post and then provide a new prompt for the next poster!

Jan checked his phone for the umpteenth time. Three minutes and forty seconds.

For fuck's sake, I can't be late. He tapped his foot in a crescendo of annoyance. Six minutes and two seconds now.

He'd made sure he wouldn't be late. Braved the miserable rain ten minutes early. Just to be on time. Like a proper person

Calm down. Relax. Cool it. He adjusted his tie again. Combed his hair with his hand. Paced to the front of the bus stop, and back to the seat. Ten minutes.

Then, like a tightrope walker, the bus edged around the corner.

Jan ground his teeth. Was it seriously going thirty? On a fifty motorway? What was this joke!

His eyes narrowed. Oh, that explained things. Asshole looked fresh out of college; prolly fresh on his licence, too. Stupid little shit didn't understand people had places to be. People to see. Things to do.

Jan loosened his tie. Took a deep breath as the bus slowly, slowly ground to a halt. When the doors at least swung open, Jan unleashed a torrent of profanities.

How dare a shitty driver interrupt the important work of a professor by going so goddamn slow, and what was he thinking if he was at all thinking, being so incredibly late? Shouldn't he just hand in his resignation already, and how about he get a goddamn move on because Jan was so incredibly late and needed to reach the city stat?

"Sir, if I may interrupt." The bus driver tapped his cap and smiled uneasily. "This is the number twelve bus. The number ten you're looking for doesn't run on Sundays."
Now it's up to you!






PROMPT: Your character just woke up. But not in a bed. And not at home.

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it's never enough and you're breaking it down
RESPONSE: it's too dark for you to be awake yet, is the first thing that crosses your mind as you push yourself up shakily, fingers tangling in damp leaves with an immediate frown. that clears some of the grogginess. you stagger to bare feet with sudden clarity and alarm, head craning to stare at what should have been a ceiling but was instead a canopy of aching trees and distant stars, fingers pressing into the sides of your skull. shit. in a burst of rash stupidity, you kick at the leaf-littered earth - or try to, underestimating how slippery the night-slick floor could be, and falling flat on your back. just like you started, except with rather more pain. shit. right hand ruffles at dirty, knotted hair with frustration and confusion, but you make no further attempts to move; instead, sighing and staring at the not-ceiling.

your brain tries to stutter some sort of 'how?' and 'when?' and 'where?' but attempting to string together any semblance of an answer only results in a throbbing pain. eventually, you desist. too tired, too weary to bother just now with discovering how in the heck you ended up in the middle of the woods. the leaves, although moist and smelly, were damn comfortable enough to leave reason for tomorrow morning's version of you. good. night.


PROMPT: it's been at least ten minutes and you still haven't managed to make your order. somehow, despite this, your full name is called and a very familiar coffee is delivered to the pick-up station.
last edit on Aug 11, 2018 10:58:02 GMT by mieru
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