“I know I was writing stories when I was five. I don’t know what I did before that. Just loafed, I suppose.” – P.G. Wodehouse
(P.G. Wodehouse, by the way, is a bloke who wrote over ninety books. The word “prolific” doesn’t even cover it.)
I like to write. Even before I was old enough to write myself, I’ve been making up stories. In that early stage, my lovely mother would type up the stories that I would dictate to her. (Looking back, those stories lack a certain amount of – erm – coherence. And common sense about how the world works. But that is not relevant.)
While I like to write, it happens sometimes that I run out of creative steam. I don’t know that you’d call it writer’s block, since I still can technically write under its influence….but anything I try to write seems – well – bad. All the ideas I had previously started seem ridiculous or uninteresting, and any new idea I start doesn’t really seem any better.
When one falls into such a rut, sometimes looking elsewhere for inspiration can help. I used to participate in a lot of sentence prompt contests, and greatly enjoyed them. The fact of having a deadline, and the knowledge that I was competing with others, was probably a large part of what drove my motivation. Even without those factors, though, I think that just the change of pace of trying to use a prompt can help get your creative gears running again.
So, without further ado, here are ten sentence prompts to aid you when your writing won’t do as it’s told. Start a story with one, slip one into the middle of a story you’re already writing, fit as many of them into a paragraph as you can…whatever you like. Whatever helps clear your writing brain.
He had always been told that heroism is shown in the little things. He now decided that whoever had thought that one up was abysmally wrong.
She quickly kicked the bundle under the table and greeted the newcomer with a smile.
It was an old, dirty pencil. It was only an inch long. The eraser was missing. She picked it up and turned it over, examining it minutely.
He inched his way closer and closer, every muscle tensed, prepared to run in the opposite direction at a moment’s notice.
It was just a rock. Nothing more. There was no reason for it to be the catalyst of so many momentous happenings.
“You can’t do that! Don’t you know that this whole city depends on that thing?”
“We can use it as a mouse trap, at least,” he suggested, poking the stuff gingerly.
His eyes widened in shock, but she hurried on from the topic without giving him time to question her statement.
“That sounds perfect,” she said cheerfully, turning away to hide the tears in her eyes.
It was a very old legend, and no one knew when or how it had originated.
Happy writing!
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