about me essay prompts

87 Self-Reflective Prompts To Help You Write About Yourself

Having trouble deciding what to write about yourself ?

Whether you’re writing for your journal, your memoir, or a class assignment, you have plenty of topics about yourself to choose from.

You’re more interesting than you might think.

So are the people you live with, work with, and meet — if only for a moment.

Once you look through the prompts listed below, the real challenge will be choosing which one to write about first.

What Is a Unique Way to Write about Yourself?

The point of writing about yourself is to grow in self-knowledge and understanding of where you are and where you want to be.

With that in mind, it makes sense to write about what you’ve learned so far and how you learned it.

It also helps to explore what you’re good at as well as what areas need work.

Consider the following categories of self-knowledge:

Mistakes you’ve learned from
Changes to your beliefs and the catalysts behind them
Painful experiences and what you’ve learned from them
Favorite things and why you love them
Things that make you angry or that motivate you to fight for change

Things to Write about Yourself: 87 Writing Prompts

Enjoy these all about me writing prompts . Start with one that leads your mind to a specific, vivid memory. Then free-write to your heart’s content.

1. Describe something you’re good at.

2. What do you want to be when you grow up and why?

3. How do you want people to remember you?

4. What personal beliefs of yours have changed over the years?

5. What would you like to invent and why?

6. If you won $1 million, what would you do with it?

7. If you had all the money you needed to create a nonprofit organization, what would its mission be?

8. What would you change about school or your country’s education system if you could?

9. If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go first and why?

10. Where do you want to live, and what kind of lifestyle would you like to afford easily?

11. What’s the biggest mistake you’ve ever learned from?

12. Would you rather get paid well for a job you can tolerate or paid little for work you love?

13. What is your favorite food and why? Do you make it yourself, or do you prefer paying others to do so?

14. What superstitions do you believe in or have you believed in, and why?

15. Do you believe in luck (good or bad)? If so, do you think a higher power is pulling strings on your behalf — or working against you? How much control do you have over your life?

16. Describe your first job, what you learned from it, and whether (and why) you’d recommend it to anyone?

17. What do you love about yourself? And who in your life sees that in you? Who doesn’t?

18. Describe your best friend and how you met. What keeps your friendship going?

19. Write about an animal with whom you’ve felt a close kinship and describe the relationship between you.

20. If you could design your own home, what would be its most important features?

21. What’s your favorite outfit (including footwear and accessories) and why?

22. What’s your biggest dream for the future, and what are you doing to get closer to it?

23. What makes you angry? When was the last time something made you so mad you took action to change it?

24. What’s your favorite holiday and why? What do you do to celebrate it?

25. If you have a romantic partner, what do you love most about them and your relationship? What would you change if you could?

26. What do you most want to accomplish in your life and why?

27. Have you ever gotten something you wanted, only to realize it wasn’t what you really wanted after all?

28. Do you want to be more like one of your parents or grandparents? Why or why not?

29. Describe one of your earliest childhood memories.

30. Write about the benefits and challenges of having siblings — or of being an only child.

31. How much of your body are you comfortable with people seeing? Has that changed?

32. What do you find gross that other people don’t — or vice-versa?

33. Are you interested in marriage, or would you prefer a romantic partnership without marriage? What are your reasons?

34. If you could design your own end, what manner of death would you choose and why?

35. How do you want your body dealt with after you die? Do you want your remains buried or scattered, and why?

36. Describe a favorite game from your young childhood (aged 0 to 10).

37. Write about something you succeeded at because you did NOT GIVE UP.

38. Write about a favorite elementary school classmate and what you liked about them.

39. Write about an interesting high school classmate and what you liked about them.

40. Write about the best coworker you’ve ever had and why you loved working with them.

41. Write about the best job you’ve ever had and what you loved about it.

42. How would you build the perfect sandwich (with or without bread)?

43. Write about a death in your family and how it impacted you.

44. Write about a birth in your family and how it affected you.

45. Write about a marriage or divorce in your family and how it impacted you.

46. Write about your intimate social circle, how it was formed, and how it influences you.

47. Write about your chosen family — the people in your life who have become family to you — and how they have become so important.

tell your stories, love your life

Writing Inspiration
Semi-Charmed Life
Reading & Research
Works In Progress.

Things to Write About Yourself: 100 Writing Prompts for Self-Discovery

Things to Write About Yourself: Writing Prompts for Self-Discovery | image of a pen lying on an open journal

Writing is a great tool for personal growth, but it can be challenging to think of things to write about yourself. That’s why I put together this list of creative writing prompts for adults or teens. These may be used as memoir writing prompts if you’re interested in telling the story of your life, or the could be idea starters for blog posts or journal prompts for self discovery.

You may not be able to relate to all of them, but I tried to make them pretty general! These creative writing exercises can also help you develop the characters in your short story, novel, or screenplay — just imagine your character answering them instead of you.

If you like these prompts for writing about yourself, you might want to pin or bookmark them for future reference. Take a look!

THINGS TO WRITE ABOUT YOURSELF | 100 writing prompts for self discovery | bryndonovan.com | open journal, cup of cafe au lait

Describe one of your earliest childhood memories.
Write about what you see as one of your best qualities.
Do you have the same religious beliefs that you had as a child? If so, why? If not, how and why did they change?
Write about the benefits of being an only child—or the advantages of having siblings.
Write about how a person can tell if they’re really in love. If you don’t know, write about how you don’t know.
Are you shy about your body, such as when you change clothes in a locker room? Or are you comfortable with it? Why?
Describe your favorite spot in your home, and why you like it.
Write about one of the most admirable classmates or coworkers you’ve ever had.
Write about one of the worst classmates or coworkers you’ve ever had.
Tell your story about the time you succeeded at something because you just. Didn’t. Give. Up.
Write about how you’re a typical resident of your city or town… or about how you’re different from most people there.
Write about how you fit the stereotype of people from your country… or about how you don’t fit it at all.
Describe your favorite toy or game when you were five years old.
Write about one of your most useful talents.
What superstitions do you believe in or follow? Do you do certain things to avoid bad luck, or make wishes in certain ways?
Write about a death in your family.
Write about a birth in your family.
Tell your story about how you made a friend in the past five years or so. How did you meet them? What do you like about them?
Tell your story about your first best friend as a child. How did you meet them? How did you play together?
Describe a physical feature of yours that you really like.
Is your home usually neat, or usually messy? Why is that? Do you think it matters? Why or why not?
Describe a part of your job or everyday work that you love.
Describe a part of your job or everyday work that you loathe.
Tell your story about how you won something, like a contest, a game, or a raffle.
Do you think your hometown is a good place to live? Why or why not?
Do you fit your astrological sign? Why or why not?
Write about when you think it’s morally acceptable to lie. If your answer is “never,” write about why you think that.
Write about a trait you inherited or picked up from a parent.
Write about a way in which you are very different from a parent.
Discuss one of the most important qualities you think people should look for in a romantic partner.
Discuss a quality that you think is overrated when choosing a romantic partner.
Write about a kind of exercise or physical activity you enjoy.
Describe the contents of a desk drawer or junk drawer in your home, and write about the thoughts or memories that the objects in there inspire.
Write about what you wish people knew about your job, profession, or calling in life.
Write about a habit or addiction that you’ve been struggling with for years.
Write about an external situation that you’ve been struggling with for years. [AdSense-B]
Discuss something you love about the people in your country.
Discuss something you wish you could change about the people in your country.
What was something you misunderstood as a child? It could be the definition of a word, or something about adult life.
Describe the benefits of being an introvert or an extrovert (whichever one you are.)
Describe the challenges of being an introvert or an extrovert (whichever one you are.)
Tell your story about the time you spoke up for something you believed in. How did it feel? Were there any consequences?
If you don’t have children – do you or did you want them? Why or why not?
If you have children – what is one thing that surprised you about being a parent?
Tell your story about when a friend (or a group of them) made your day.
Tell your story about when a friend (or a group of them) broke your heart.
Describe an experience at a doctor’s office, dentist’s office, or hospital.
Describe your dream home in detail.
Tell your story about how a teacher, coach, or boss supported or inspired you.
Tell your story about how a teacher, coach, or boss was so awful, they didn’t deserve to have their job.
Write about something you did in the past year that made you proud.
Do you live in the city you grew up in? Why or why not?
Tell your story about a trip or a visit you enjoyed when you were little.
In what ways do you fit the stereotypes of your gender, and in what ways do you differ from the stereotypes?
Discuss whether you think people should share their religious beliefs openly, or whether they should keep it private.
Discuss why you do or don’t consider pets to be family members.
Describe what you think would be a perfect romantic date.
Write about a type or style of clothing that you feel uncomfortable wearing, or that you simply dislike.
Describe your personal style in clothing and whether it’s changed over the years.
Write about the worst house or apartment you’ve ever lived in.
Tell your story about a time when, rightly or wrongly, you got in trouble at school or at work.
Do you always vote in elections? Why or why not?
Do you think people make snap judgments about you based on your appearance? Are they accurate or not?
What’s something that people don’t learn about your personality unless they get to know you very well?
Write about something that terrified you as a child.
Write about a particular phobia or fear you have now. If you’re not scared of anything, write about that!
Write about something you believe that isn’t a particularly popular belief.
What’s something you wanted badly as a child? Did you get it? If so, was it everything you hoped? If not, did it matter?
When you’re feeling sad or down, what are ways that you make yourself feel better?
What is something that makes you almost irrationally angry?
Write about an object you own that has religious, spiritual, or symbolic significance to you.
If you were a billionaire, what gifts would you give to your immediate family?
Do you consider yourself hopeful or cynical about romance? Why?
Write a note apologizing to a part of your body for insulting it in the past.
Write a note thanking a part of your body for doing such a good job.
Tell your story about when you had a delightful guest in your home.
Tell your story about when you had an unwelcome visitor in your home.
Describe the time you were a guest in an unusual home.
What was the strangest course or class you ever took?
Write about a time when you tried your best – and it didn’t pan out. How did you get over it?
Write about a small thing you accomplished this week.
Write about the ways that your hometown has changed over the years.
Write about a way your country is changing for the better.
Describe someone who bullied you as a child. Why do you think they did it?
Do you believe that things happen for a reason, or do they just happen randomly? Why do you think this?
Do you believe that you have a lot of control over your destiny or future? Why or why not?
Write down a funny story that your family likes to tell again and again.
What do you consider to be “deal breakers” in a marriage or romantic relationship?
Tell your story about a time you got injured or you were in an accident.
Write about some of the things you do at home when you’re completely alone.
Tell your story about how you learned a new skill.
Describe the way you get to school or to work every day.
Propose a frivolous or ridiculous law that you would like to implement, and explain your reasoning.
Write about something you did (or didn’t do) that you’re proud of from a moral or religious standpoint.
Tell your story about having a great time at a party.
Tell your story about a party you wish you had never attended or hosted.
Write about a tattoo you have and its significance, a tattoo you would like to get… or why you would never, ever get a tattoo.
Tell a story that has to do with your hair, or the lack of it.
Write about a feud or rift in your family.

THINGS TO WRITE ABOUT YOURSELF | 100 writing prompts for self discovery | open journal, white flowers, cup of coffee

If you want to do more self-discovery and you could use a fresh start right about now, check out my journal, The Book Of Dreams Come True ! It’s a journal about goals and manifestation, and I’m really excited to share it with you. I’m even making a sample available—here’s the free PDF download of that.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS COME TRUE: A JOURNAL OF SELF-DISCOVERY, GOALS, AND MANIFESTATION | #best gratitude journal #manifestation journal #best gratitude journal #daily gratitude prompts #gratitude journal #barnes and noble Egratitude journal prompts #gratitude list #gratitude writing prompts #thanking the universe

[spacer height=”20px”]Do you have more ideas of things to write about yourself, or advice on how to do it? Let us know in the comments! Thanks so much for reading, and happy writing!

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Student Opinion

650 Prompts for Narrative and Personal Writing

By Michael Gonchar

Oct. 20, 2016

Update, Sept. 4, 2019: Check out our newest evergreen collection of “ 550 Prompts for Narrative and Personal Writing ” that includes dozens of new prompts.

Update, Feb. 15, 2019: Learn more about how to use our 1000s of writing prompts by watching our free on-demand webinar: “ Give Them Something to Write About: Teach Across the Curriculum With New York Times-Inspired Daily Prompts. ”

Every school day since 2009 we’ve asked students a question based on an article in The New York Times.

Now, seven years later, and in honor of the Oct. 20 National Day on Writing , we’ve collected 650 of them that invite narrative and personal writing and listed them by category below. Consider it an update of a previous post, and a companion to the list of 301 argumentative writing prompts we published in 2015.

Here is a PDF of all 650 prompts , and we also have a related lesson plan, From ‘Lives’ to ‘Modern Love’: Writing Personal Essays With Help From The New York Times .

Below, a list that touches on everything from sports to travel, education, gender roles, video games, fashion, family, pop culture, social media and more. Like all our Student Opinion questions , each links to a related Times article and includes a series of follow-up questions. All questions published since May 2015 are still open to comment by any student 13 or older.

So dive into this admittedly overwhelming list and pick the questions that most inspire you to tell an interesting story, describe a memorable event, observe the details in your world, imagine a possibility, or reflect on who you are and what you believe.

Overcoming Adversity

1. What Challenges Have You Overcome? 2. What Are Your Secret Survival Strategies? 3. What Do You Do When You Encounter Obstacles to Success? 4. When Have You Failed? What Did You Learn From It? 5. When Have You Ever Succeeded When You Thought You Might Fail? 6. What Life Lessons Has Adversity Taught You? 7. What Work Went Into Reaching Your Most Difficult Goals? 8. How Often Do You Leave Your ‘Comfort Zone’? 9. When Was the Last Time You Did Something That Scared or Challenged You? 10. What Are You Afraid Of? 11. What Are Your Fears and Phobias? 12. What Are Your Personal Superstitions? 13. Do You Like Being Alone? 14. How Often Do You Cry? 15. Do You Ever Feel Overlooked and Underappreciated? 16. How Have You Handled Being the ‘New Kid’? 17. How Do You Deal With Haters? 18. How Do You React When Provoked? 19. What Role Does Stress Play in Your Life? 20. Does Stress Affect Your Ability to Make Good Decisions? 21. How Do You Relieve Stress? 22. How Do You Find Peace in Your Life? 23. Does Your Life Leave You Enough Time to Relax? 24. Do You Set Rules for Yourself About How You Use Your Time? 25. Is ‘Doing Nothing’ a Good Use of Your Time? 26. What Did You Once Hate but Now Like? 27. What Kind of Feedback Helps You Improve? 28. Is Trying Too Hard to Be Happy Making You Sad? 29. Do Adults Who Are ‘Only Trying to Help’ Sometimes Make Things Worse?

Your Personality

30. What Is Your Personal Credo? 31. What Motivates You? 32. What Makes You Happy? 33. What Are You Good At? 34. When in Your Life Have You Been a Leader? 35. How Well Do You Perform Under Pressure? 36. How Well Do You Take Criticism? 37. Are You Hard or Easy on Yourself? 38. How Full Is Your Glass? 39. Do You Have a Hard Time Making Decisions? 40. How Much Self-Control Do You Have? 41. How Good Are You at Waiting for What You Really Want? 42. What Role Does Procrastination Play in Your Life? 43. How Good Are You at Time Management? 44. How Productive and Organized Are You? 45. Under What Conditions Do You Do Your Best Work? 46. How Do You Express Yourself Creatively? 47. Are You a Good Listener? 48. How Competitive Are You? 49. Do You Perform Better When You’re Competing or When You’re Collaborating? 50. How Emotionally Intelligent Are You? 51. Do You Take More Risks When You Are Around Your Friends? 52. Do You Unknowingly Submit to Peer Pressure? 53. Do You Think You’re Brave? 54. How Much of a Daredevil Are You? 55. What Pranks, Jokes, Hoaxes or Tricks Have You Ever Fallen For or Perpetrated? 56. How Impulsive Are You? 57. Are You a Novelty-Seeker? 58. How Do You Deal With Boredom? 59. What Annoys You? 60. Do You Apologize Too Much? 61. Do You Have Good Manners? 62. How Materialistic Are You? 63. Are You a Saver or a Tosser? 64. Are You a Hoarder or a Minimalist? 65. Are You an Introvert or an Extrovert? 66. Are You Popular, Quirky or Conformist? 67. Are You a Nerd or a Geek? 68. What Would Your Personal Mascot Be? 69. What Assumptions Do People Make About You? 70. How Good Are You at Saying Goodbye?

Role Models

71. Who Is Your Role Model? 72. Who Inspires You? 73. Who Are the People – Famous or Not – You Admire Most? 74. Who Are Your Heroes? 75. What Heroic Acts Have You Performed or Witnessed? 76. What’s the Best Advice You’ve Gotten? 77. What Are Some ‘Words of Wisdom’ That Guide Your Life? 78. Who Outside Your Family Has Made a Difference in Your Life? 79. If You Had Your Own Talk Show, Whom Would You Want to Interview? 80. To Whom, or What, Would You Like to Write a Thank-You Note? 81. What Leader Would You Invite to Speak at Your School? 82. What Six People, Living or Dead, Would You Invite to Dinner? 83. Who’s Your ‘Outsider Role Model’?

84. Who Is Your Family? 85. How Do You Define ‘Family’? 86. What Have You and Your Family Accomplished Together? 87. What Events Have Brought You Closer to Your Family? 88. What’s Your Role in Your Family? 89. Have You Ever Changed a Family Member’s Mind? 90. How Well Do You Get Along With Your Siblings? 91. What Are Your Family Stories of Sacrifice? 92. What Possessions Does Your Family Treasure? 93. What Hobbies Have Been Passed Down in Your Family? 94. What’s the Story Behind Your Name? 95. What Are Your Favorite Names? 96. How Have You Paid Tribute to Loved Ones? 97. What Do You Know About Your Family’s History? 98. Did Your Parents Have a Life Before They Had Kids? 99. What Family Traditions Do You Want to Carry On When You Get Older?

Parents & Parenting

100. How Close Are You to Your Parents? 101. How Are You and Your Parents Alike and Different? 102. How Much Freedom Have Your Parents Given You? 103. How Permissive Are Your Parents? 104. Do You Have Helicopter Parents? 105. How Do Your Parents Teach You to Behave? 106. How Do You Make Parenting Difficult for Your Parents? 107. How Often Do You Fight With Your Parents? 108. What Advice Would You Give to Your Mom, Dad or Guardian on How to Be a Better Parent? 109. Is Your Family Stressed, Tired and Rushed? 110. Do Your Parents Try Too Hard to Be Cool? 111. Do You Ever Feel Embarrassed by Your Parents? 112. Do Your Parents Support Your Learning? 113. Do You Talk About Report Cards With Your Parents? 114. Do You Want Your Parents to Stop Asking You ‘How Was School?’ 115. How Much Do Your Parents Help With Your Homework? 116. How Has Your Family Helped or Hindered Your Transition to a New School? 117. Have Your Parents and Teachers Given You Room to Create?

Your Neighborhood

118. How Much Does Your Neighborhood Define Who You Are? 119. What’s Special About Your Hometown? 120. What Marketing Slogan Would You Use for Your Town or City? 121. What Would You Name Your Neighborhood? 122. Who Are the ‘Characters’ That Make Your Town Interesting? 123. Who Is the ‘Mayor’ of Your School or Neighborhood? 124. What Would a TV Show About Your Town Spoof? 125. What ‘Urban Legends’ Are There About Places in Your Area? 126. Do You Know Your Way Around Your City or Town? 127. How Well Do You Know Your Neighbors? 128. What Is Your Favorite Place? 129. What’s Your Favorite Neighborhood Joint? 130. What Is Your Favorite Street? 131. Do You Hang Out in the Park? 132. How Much Time Do You Spend in Nature? 133. What Small Things Have You Seen and Taken Note Of Today? 134. What Buildings Do You Love? What Buildings Do You Hate? 135. What Are the Sounds That Make Up the Background Noise in Your Life? 136. What Sounds Annoy You? 137. What Public Behavior Annoys You Most? 138. Have You Ever Interacted With the Police? 139. What Local Problems Do You Think Your Mayor Should Try to Solve? 140. What Ideas Do You Have for Enhancing Your Community? 141. Where Do You Think You Will Live When You Are an Adult? 142. Would You Most Want to Live in a City, a Suburb or the Country?

143. Is Your Bedroom a Nightmare? 144. What is Your Favorite Place in Your House? 145. How Important Is Keeping a Clean House? 146. Do You Need to De-Clutter Your Life? 147. Do You Plan on Saving Any of Your Belongings for the Future? 148. With Your Home in Danger, What Would You Try to Save? 149. What Would You Grab in a Fire? 150. What Would You Put in Your Emergency ‘Go-Bag’? 151. Who Lived Long Ago Where You Live Now? 152. What Would Your Dream Home Be Like?

Childhood Memories

153. What Was Your Most Precious Childhood Possession? 154. What Objects Tell the Story of Your Life? 155. What Do You Collect? 156. What Were Your Favorite Childhood Shows and Characters? 157. Do You Have Childhood Memories of Being Read Aloud To? 158. What Were Your Favorite Picture Books When You Were Little? 159. What Things Did You Create When You Were a Child? 160. What Places Do You Remember Fondly From Childhood? 161. What Food or Flavor Do You Remember Tasting for the First Time? 162. What Do You Wish You Could See, Hear, Read or Experience for the First Time All Over Again? 163. Have You Ever Felt Embarrassed by Things You Used to Like? 164. Do You Wish You Could Return to Moments From Your Past? 165. Was There a Toy You Wanted as a Child but Never Got? 166. What’s the Best Gift You’ve Ever Given or Received? 167. What’s the Most Memorable Thing You Ever Got in the Mail? 168. Have You Ever Lost (or Found) Something Valuable? 169. What Nicknames Have You Ever Gotten or Given? 170. What Are Your Best Sleepover Memories? 171. What Old, Worn Out Thing Can You Just Not Part With? 172. What Is Your Most Prized Possession?

173. What Have You Learned in Your Teens? 174. What Do You Remember Best About Being 12? 175. What Personal Achievements Make You Proud? 176. What Are Some Recent Moments of Happiness in Your Life? 177. What Rites of Passage Have You Participated In? 178. What Are You Grateful For? 179. What Advice Would You Give Younger Kids About Middle or High School? 180. What Have You Learned From Older People? 181. What Can Older People Learn From Your Generation? 182. What Do Older Generations Misunderstand About Yours? 183. Do You Recognize Yourself in Descriptions of ‘Generation Z’?

184. What Ethical Dilemmas Have You Faced? 185. Have You Ever Had to Make a Sacrifice to Help Someone You Care About? 186. Have You Ever Donated Your Time, Talents, Possessions or Money to Support Anyone in Need? 187. When Is the Last Time You Did Something Nice for a Stranger? 188. Have You Ever ‘Paid It Forward’? 189. How Trustworthy Are You? 190. How Comfortable Are You With Lying? 191. When Do You Lie? 192. Have You Ever Lied to Your Parents or Done Something Behind Their Backs? 193. If You Drink or Use Drugs, Do Your Parents Know? 194. Have You Ever Taken Something You Weren’t Supposed To? 195. Do You Ever Eavesdrop? 196. How Much Do You Gossip?

Religion & Spirituality

197. What Is the Role of Religion or Spirituality in Your Life? 198. How Important Is Your Spiritual Life? 199. Do You Believe That Everything Happens for a Reason? 200. How Much Control Do You Think You Have Over Your Fate? 201. Can You Be Good Without God? 202. Are You Less Religious Than Your Parents? 203. Can You Pass a Basic Religion Test? 204. What Can You Learn From Other Religions?

Gender & Sexuality

205. How Do Male and Female Roles Differ in Your Family? 206. Do Parents Have Different Hopes and Standards for Their Sons Than for Their Daughters? 207. How Do Your Parents Share the Responsibilities of Parenting? 208. Is There Too Much Pressure on Girls to Have ‘Perfect’ Bodies? 209. How Much Pressure Do Boys Face to Have the Perfect Body? 210. How Did You Learn About Sex? 211. What Experiences Have You Had With Gender Bias in School? 212. What Have Been Your Experiences With Catcalling or Other Kinds of Street Harassment? 213. What Does it Mean to Be ‘a Real Man’? 214. Do You Consider Yourself a Feminist? 215. What Does Feminism Mean to You?

Race & Ethnicity

216. What Is Your Racial and Ethnic Identity? 217. Have You Ever Tried to Hide Your Racial or Ethnic Identity? 218. How Often Do You Interact With People of Another Race or Ethnicity? 219. Do You Ever Talk About Issues of Race and Class With Your Friends? 220. Is Your Generation Really ‘Postracial’? 221. What’s the Racial Makeup of Your School? 222. Does Your School Seem Integrated? 223. Have You Experienced Racism or Other Kinds of Discrimination in School?

Money & Social Class

224. What Are Your Attitudes Toward Money? 225. Are You a Saver or a Spender? 226. What Have Your Parents Taught You About Money? 227. Do You Expect Your Parents to Give You Money? 228. How Important a Role Has Money, Work or Social Class Played in Your Life? 229. Do You See Great Disparities of Wealth in Your Community? 230. Can Money Buy You Happiness? 231. What Are the Best Things in Life and Are They Free?

232. Are You Distracted by Technology? 233. Are You Distracted by Your Phone? 234. Are You ‘Addicted’ to Texting? 235. Do You Always Have Your Phone or Tablet at Your Side? 236. Do Screens Get in the Way of the Rest of Your Life? 237. Do You Experience FOMO When You Unplug? 238. Does Your Digital Life Have Side Effects? 239. Do You Spend Too Much Time on Smartphones Playing ‘Stupid Games’? 240. Do Apps Help You or Just Waste Your Time? 241. What Tech Tools Play the Biggest Role in Your Life? 242. What New Technologies or Tech Toys Are You Most Excited About? 243. To What Piece of Technology Would You Write a ‘Love Letter’?

The Internet

244. What’s So Great About YouTube? 245. What Has YouTube Taught You? 246. What Are Your Favorite Viral Videos? 247. What Are Your Favorite Internet Spoofs? 248. What Would You Teach the World in an Online Video? 249. Do You Ever Seek Advice on the Internet? 250. Would You Share an Embarrassing Story Online? 251. How Do You Know if What You Read Online Is True? 252. What Are Your Experiences With Internet-Based Urban Legends? 253. How Much Do You Trust Online Reviews? 254. How Do You Use Wikipedia? 255. How Careful Are You Online? 256. What Story Does Your Personal Data Tell? 257. Do You Worry About the Lack of Anonymity in the Digital Age? 258. Would You Mind if Your Parents Blogged About You? 259. Do You Wish You Had More Privacy Online? 260. Have You Ever Been Scammed? 261. Whom Would You Share Your Passwords With?

Social Media

262. How Do You Use Facebook? 263. What Is Your Facebook Persona? 264. How Real Are You on Social Media? 265. What Memorable Experiences Have You Had on Facebook? 266. Does Facebook Ever Make You Feel Bad? 267. Would You Consider Deleting Your Facebook Account? 268. Do You Have ‘Instagram Envy’? 269. Do You Use Twitter? 270. Why Do You Share Photos? 271. How Do You Archive Your Life? 272. Have You Ever Posted, Emailed or Texted Something You Wish You Could Take Back? 273. Have You Ever Sent an Odd Message Because of Auto-Correct? 274. Would You Want Your Photo or Video to Go Viral? 275. Do You Worry Colleges or Employers Might Read Your Social Media Posts Someday? 276. What Advice Do You Have for Younger Kids About Navigating Social Media?

277. What Are You Listening To? 278. What Songs Are on Your Favorite Playlist? 279. What Musicians or Bands Mean the Most to You? 280. What Music Inspires You? 281. Who in Your Life Introduces You to New Music? 282. How Much Is Your Taste in Music Based on What Your Friends Like? 283. What Role Does Hip-Hop Play in Your Life? 284. Which Pop Music Stars Fascinate You? 285. Who Is Your Favorite Pop Diva? 286. What’s Your Karaoke Song? 287. Which Artists Would You Like to See Team Up? 288. How Closely Do You Listen to Lyrics? 289. What Are Your Earliest Memories of Music?

290. What Are the Best Things You’ve Watched, Read, Heard or Played This Year? 291. What Are Your TV Habits? 292. Do Your Television Viewing Habits Include ‘Binge-Watching’? 293. What Role Does Television Play in Your Life and the Life of Your Family? 294. What Television Shows Have Mattered to You? 295. How Often Do You Watch a Television Show When It Originally Airs? 296. Have You Fallen Into ‘Friends’ or Any Other Older Television Shows? 297. What Old Television Shows Would You Bring Back? 298. Why Do We Like Reality Shows So Much? 299. What Ideas Do You Have for a Reality Show? 300. What Reality TV Show Would You Want to Be a Guest Star On? 301. What Are Your Favorite Cartoons? 302. What Are Your Favorite Commercials? 303. How Much Are You Influenced by Advertising?

Movies & Theater

304. What Are Your Favorite Movies Ever? 305. What Were the Best Movies You Saw in the Past Year? 306. What Movies Do You Watch, or Reference, Over and Over? 307. What Movies, Shows or Books Do You Wish Had Sequels, Spinoffs or New Episodes? 308. Do You Like Horror Movies? 309. What Is Your Favorite Comedy? 310. Who Are Your Favorite Movie Stars? 311. Would You Pay Extra for a 3-D Movie? 312. Where, and How, Do You Watch Movies? 313. What Are the Best Live Theatrical Performances You’ve Ever Seen? 314. Have You Ever Stumbled Upon a Cool Public Performance?

Video Games

315. What Are Your Favorite Video Games? 316. What Have You Learned Playing Video Games? 317. Do You Play Violent Video Games? 318. When Should You Feel Guilty for Killing Zombies? 319. Who Are Your Opponents in Online Gaming? 320. Do You Like Watching Other People Play Video Games? 321. How Excited Are You About the Possibilities of Virtual Reality?

Books & Reading

322. Read Any Good Books Lately? 323. What Are the Best Books You’ve Read This Year? 324. What Are Your Favorite Books and Authors? 325. What Are Your Favorite Young Adult Novels? 326. Do You Read for Pleasure? 327. What Memorable Poetry Have You Ever Read or Heard? 328. What Magazines Do You Read, and How Do You Read Them? 329. Do You Enjoy Reading Tabloid Gossip? 330. When Have You Seen Yourself and Your Life Reflected in a Book or Other Media? 331. Has a Book, Movie, Television Show, Song or Video Game Ever Inspired You to Do Something New? 332. Do You Prefer Your Children’s Book Characters Obedient or Contrary? 333. Do You Read E-Books? 334. Would You Trade Your Paper Books for Digital Versions? 335. To What Writer Would You Award a Prize?

336. Why Do You Write? 337. Are You a Good Storyteller? 338. What’s Your Favorite Joke? 339. Do You Keep a Diary or Journal? 340. Do You Have a Blog? 341. Do You Want to Write a Book? 342. When Do You Write by Hand? 343. Do You Write in Cursive? 344. Do You Write in Your Books? 345. What ‘Mundane Moments’ From Your Life Might Make Great Essay Material? 346. What Is Your Most Memorable Writing Assignment? 347. Do You Ever Write About Challenges You Face in Life?

348. What’s the Coolest Thing You’ve Ever Seen in a Museum? 349. What Are the Most Memorable Works of Visual Art You Have Seen? 350. What Are Your Favorite Works of Art? 351. How Important Is Arts Education? 352. What Has Arts Education Done For You?

Language & Speech

353. What Words Do You Hate? 354. What Words or Phrases Do You Think Are Overused? 355. How Much Slang Do You Use? What Are Your Favorite Words? 356. What Current Slang Words and Expressions Do You Think Will Endure? 357. Why Do So Many People Say ‘Like’ and ‘Totally’ All the Time? 358. Do You Say ‘Kind of, Sort of’ More Than You Realize? 359. How Much Do You Curse? 360. How Good Are You at Coming Up With Witty Comebacks? 361. When Did You Last Have a Great Conversation? 362. How Often Do You Have ‘Deep Discussions’? 363. Do You Wish Your Conversations Were Less Small Talk and More ‘Big Talk’? 364. When Do You Choose Making a Phone Call Over Sending a Text? 365. How Much Information Is ‘Too Much Information’? 366. Do You Sometimes ‘Hide’ Behind Irony? 367. How Good Is Your Grammar? 368. Do You Speak a Second, or Third, Language? 369. When Do You Remember Learning a New Word? 370. What Does Your Body Language Communicate?

371. Do You Like School? 372. Are You Stressed About School? 373. Are High School Students Being Worked Too Hard? 374. What Are You Really Learning at School? 375. What Are You Looking Forward To, or Dreading, This School Year? 376. Would You Want to Be Home-Schooled? 377. Would You Like to Take a Class Online? 378. Would You Rather Attend a Public or a Private High School? 379. How Much Does It Matter to You Which High School You Attend? 380. How Would You Grade Your School? 381. What Can Other Schools Learn — and Copy — From Your School? 382. What Would You Miss if You Left Your School? 383. Is Your School Day Too Short? 384. What Do You Hope to Get Out of High School?

Learning & Studying

385. Do You Have Too Much Homework? 386. Does Your Homework Help You Learn? 387. Do You Participate in Class? 388. What Is Your Best Subject? 389. What’s the Most Challenging Assignment You’ve Ever Had? 390. What Memorable Experiences Have You Had in Learning Science or Math? 391. Are You Afraid of Math? 392. Do We Need a Better Way to Teach Math? 393. What Are the Best Ways to Learn About History? 394. How Would You Do on a Civics Test? 395. Does Your School Offer Enough Opportunities to Learn Computer Programming? 396. Does Your School Value Students’ Digital Skills? 397. Do You Know How to Code? Would You Like to Learn? 398. What Career or Technical Classes Do You Wish Your School Offered? 399. What Was Your Favorite Field Trip? 400. What Are Your Best Tips for Studying? 401. Do You Use Study Guides? 402. Is Everything You’ve Been Taught About Study Habits Wrong? 403. What Would You Like to Have Memorized? 404. How Well Do You Think Standardized Tests Measure Your Abilities? 405. Do Your Test Scores Reflect How Good Your Teachers Are?

406. What Do You Wish Your Teachers Knew About You? 407. When Has a Teacher Inspired You? 408. What Teacher Would You Like to Thank? 409. What Makes a Good Teacher? 410. Have You Ever Been Humiliated by a Teacher? How Did it Affect You? 411. Have Your Teachers or Textbooks Ever Gotten It Wrong? 412. Do Your Teachers Use Technology Well? 413. Do You Have a Tutor?

School Life

414. How Do You Feel About Proms? 415. Do You Want to Be ‘Promposed’ To? 416. Is Prom Worth It? 417. What Role Do School Clubs and Teams Play in Your Life? 418. How Big a Problem Is Bullying or Cyberbullying in Your School or Community? 419. Would You Ever Go Through Hazing to Be Part of a Group? 420. Is Your School a ‘Party School’? 421. Have You Been To Parties That Have Gotten Out of Control? 422. How Common Is Drug Use in Your School? 423. Can Students at Your School Talk Openly About Their Mental Health Issues? 424. How Does Your School Deal With Students Who Misbehave? 425. Do You Know People Who Cheat on High-Stakes Tests? 426. How Much Does Your Life in School Intersect With Your Life Outside School? 427. Do You Ever ‘Mix It Up’ and Socialize With Different People at School? 428. What Fads Are You and Your Friends Into Right Now?

429. Where Do You Want to Go to College? 430. What Are Your Sources for Information About Colleges and Universities? 431. What Role Has Community College Played in Your Life or the Life of Someone You Know? 432. Is College Overrated? 433. How Much Do You Worry About Taking the SAT or ACT? 434. What Personal Essay Topic Would You Assign to College Applicants? 435. What Qualities Would You Look For in a College Roommate? 436. Would You Want to Take a Gap Year After High School? 437. What Makes a Graduation Ceremony Memorable?

Work & Careers

438. What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up? 439. Do You Have a Life Calling? 440. What’s Your Dream Job? 441. What Are Your Longtime Interests or Passions? 442. Do You Think You Will Have a Career That You Love? 443. What Do You Want More From a Career: Happiness or Wealth? 444. What Investment Are You Willing to Make to Get Your Dream Job? 445. Would You Consider a Nontraditional Occupation? 446. Would You Rather Work From Home or in an Office? 447. Would You Want to Be a Teacher? 448. What Hidden Talents Might You Have? 449. What ‘Back-to-the-Land’ Skills Do You Have, or Wish You Had? 450. What Skill Could You Teach in Two Minutes? 451. What Have You Made Yourself? 452. Do You Have an Idea for a Business or App? 453. What Would You Create if You Had Funding? 454. How Did You Start Doing Something You Love? 455. Did You Ever Take a Break From Doing Something You Love? 456. What Have You Done to Earn Money? 457. Do You Have a Job? 458. Would You Quit if Your Values Did Not Match Your Employer’s? 459. What Do You Hope to Be Doing the Year After You Graduate From College? 460. Where Do You See Yourself in 10 Years?

461. Do You Have a Best Friend? 462. How Often Do You Spend One-on-One Time With Your Closest Friends? 463. How Do You Feel About Introducing Friends from Different Parts of Your Life? 464. Do You Find It Easier to Make New Friends Online or In Person? 465. How Good a Friend Are You? 466. How Have You Helped a Friend in a Time of Need? 467. Do You Like Your Friends? 468. Is Competitiveness an Obstacle to Making or Keeping Friendships? 469. How Should You Handle the End of a Friendship? 470. Have You Ever Felt Left Out?

471. Have You Ever Been in Love? 472. What Are the Most Meaningful Relationships in Your Life? 473. What Advice Would You Give to Somebody Who Just Started Dating? 474. Are You Allowed to Date? 475. Is Dating a Thing of the Past? 476. Is Hookup Culture Leaving Your Generation Unhappy and Unprepared for Love? 477. What Are the Basic ‘Rules’ for Handling Breakups? 478. What’s the Best Way to Get Over a Breakup? 479. What Are Your Beliefs About Marriage?

Sports & Games

480. What’s the Most Impressive Sports Moment You’ve Seen? 481. Who Are Your Sports Heroes? 482. What Sports Teams Do You Root For? 483. Does Being a Fan Help Define Who You Are? 484. How Far Would You Go to Express Loyalty to Your Favorite Teams? 485. Are You a Fair-Weather Fan? 486. When Has a Sports Team Most Disappointed You? 487. Do You Watch the Super Bowl? 488. What Fan Memorabilia Would You Pay Big Bucks For? 489. What Extreme Sports Interest You Most? 490. Why Do You Play Sports? 491. What Rules Would You Like to See Changed in Your Favorite Sports? 492. Do You Enjoy Playing Games or Solving Puzzles? 493. What Are Your Favorite Board Games? 494. What Are Your Favorite Games? 495. What Game Would You Like to Redesign?

496. Where in the World Would You Most Like to Travel? 497. What Is Your Fantasy Vacation? 498. What Would Your Fantasy Road Trip Be Like? 499. What Crazy Adventure Would You Want to Take? 500. What Local ‘Microadventures’ Would You Like to Go On? 501. What’s Your Perfect Family Vacation? 502. How Has Travel Affected You? 503. What Kind of Tourist Are You? 504. What Are the Best Souvenirs You’ve Ever Collected While Traveling? 505. What Famous Landmarks Have You Visited? 506. What’s the Coolest Thing You’ve Ever Seen in Nature? 507. How Much Do You Know About the Rest of the World? 508. Would You Like to Live in Another Country? 509. Would You Want to Be a Space Tourist? 510. If You Could Time-Travel, Where Would You Go?

Looks & Fashion

511. What Is Your All-Time Favorite Piece of Clothing? 512. Do You Have a Signature Clothing Item? 513. What’s Your Favorite T-Shirt? 514. Do You Care What You Wear? 515. Does What You Wear Say Anything About You as a Person? 516. What Does Your Hairstyle Say About You? 517. What’s on Your Fashion Shopping List? 518. How Far Would You Go for Fashion? 519. What Are the Hot Fashion Trends at Your School Right Now? 520. What Current Trends Annoy You? 521. Would You Ever Consider Getting a Tattoo? 522. What Are Your Opinions on Cosmetic Surgery? 523. Do Photoshopped Images Make You Feel Bad About Your Own Looks? 524. Have You Inherited Your Parents’ Attitudes Toward Their Looks? 525. Has Anyone Ever Said That You Look Like Someone Famous?

Exercise, Health & Sleep

526. Do You Like to Exercise? 527. Do You Get Enough Exercise? 528. How Has Exercise Changed Your Health, Your Body or Your Life? 529. How Much Do You Think About Your Weight? 530. How Often Do You Engage in ‘Fat Talk’? 531. Do You Pay Attention to Calorie Counts for Food? 532. Do You Pay Attention to Nutrition Labels on Food? 533. How Concerned Are You About Where Your Food Comes From? 534. Are Your Eating Habits Healthy? 535. Do You Eat Too Quickly? 536. What Are Your ‘Food Rules’? 537. What Are Your Healthy Habits? 538. What Health Tips Have Worked for You? 539. What Rules Do You Have for Staying Healthy? 540. How Careful Are You in the Sun? 541. What Are Your Sleep Habits? 542. How Much of a Priority Do You Make Sleep? 543. Do You Get Enough Sleep?

Meals & Food

544. What Are the Most Memorable Meals You’ve Ever Had? 545. What’s Your Favorite Holiday Food Memory? 546. What’s Your Comfort Food? 547. What Are Your Favorite Junk Foods? 548. What’s Your Favorite Candy? 549. What’s Your Favorite Sandwich? 550. Do You Prefer Your Tacos ‘Authentic’ or ‘Appropriated’? 551. What Food Would You Like to Judge in a Taste-Off? 552. Do You Cook? 553. What Would You Most Like to Learn to Cook or Bake? 554. What Messages About Food and Eating Have You Learned From Your Family? 555. How Often Does Your Family Eat Together? 556. What Are Your Favorite Restaurants? 557. What Restaurant Would You Most Like to Review? 558. What Do You Eat During the School Day? 559. Do You Eat Cafeteria Food? 560. Is School Lunch Really All That Bad?

Holidays & Seasons

561. How Do You Celebrate Your Birthday? 562. Will You Be Wearing a Halloween Costume This Year? 563. Do You Like Scary Movies and Books? 564. Do You Believe in Ghosts? 565. What Are Your Thanksgiving Traditions? 566. What Do You Look Forward to Most – and Least – During the Holiday Season? 567. What Are Your Tips for Enjoying the Holiday Season? 568. How Will You Spend the Holiday Break? 569. What Does Santa Claus Mean to You? 570. Do You Look Forward to New Year’s Eve? 571. Do You Make New Year’s Resolutions? 572. How Do You Fight the Winter Blues? 573. What Would You Do on a Snow Day? 574. What Are Your Experiences With Severe Weather? 575. How Do You Feel About Valentine’s Day? 576. How Do You Celebrate Spring? 577. What Would Your Fantasy Spring Break Be Like? 578. What Are You Looking Forward to This Summer? 579. What Would Your Ideal Summer Camp Be Like? 580. What Are Your Favorite Summer Hangouts? 581. What’s Your Favorite Summer Food? 582. What Is Your Favorite Summer Movie? 583. What’s on Your Summer Reading List? 584. Do You Have a Summer Job? 585. Do You Choose Summer Activities to Look Good on Applications? 586. What Are the Best Things You Did This Summer? 587. How Do You Prepare to Go Back to School? 588. How Can People Make the Most of Long Holiday Weekends? 589. What’s Your Sunday Routine?

590. What’s Your Favorite Store? 591. To What Company Would You Write a Letter of Complaint or Admiration? 592. To What Business Would You Like to Give Advice? 593. Do You Ever Hang Out at the Mall? 594. How Would You Make Over Your Mall? 595. Do You Shop at Locally Owned Businesses? 596. What Are the Best Things You’ve Acquired Secondhand?

Cars & Driving

597. How Important Is It to Have a Driver’s License? 598. Are You a Good Driver? 599. Do You Have a Dream Car? 600. Would You Like to Ride in a Car That Drives Itself?

Animals & Pets

601. What Are the Animals in Your Life? 602. What’s Your Relationship Like With Your Pet? 603. How Well Do You Know Your Pet? 604. What Are Your Thoughts on Cats? 605. Would You Want to Hang Out at a Cat Cafe? 606. Why Do We Love Watching Animal Videos So Much? 607. What Are Your Most Memorable Stories About Wildlife? 608. How Do You Feel About Zoos?

Environmental Issues

609. How Green Are You? 610. How Do You Try to Reduce Your Impact on the Environment? 611. Do You Ever Feel Guilty About What, or How Much, You Throw Away? 612. How Much Food Does Your Family Waste? 613. What Could You Live Without? 614. How Do You Celebrate Earth Day?

Politics & Beliefs

615. How Would You Like to Help Our World? 616. What Cause Would Get You Into the Streets? 617. Have Your Ever Taken Part in a Protest? 618. What Would You Risk Your Life For? 619. When Have You Spoken Out About Something You Felt Had to Change? 620. What Would You Invent to Make the World a Better Place? 621. Given Unlimited Resources, What Scientific or Medical Problem Would You Investigate? 622. What Organizations Do You Think People Should Give to This Holiday Season? 623. Do You Trust Your Government? 624. When You Are Old Enough to Vote, Will You? 625. Do You Consider Yourself a Republican, Democrat or Independent?

History & Current Events

626. What Event in the Past Do You Wish You Could Have Witnessed? 627. What Are the Most Important Changes, in Your Life and in the World, in the Last Decade? 628. What National or International Events That You Lived Through Do You Remember Best? 629. Why Should We Care About Events in Other Parts of the World? 630. What News Stories Are You Following? 631. How Do You Get Your News? 632. Is Your Online World Just a ‘Filter Bubble’ of People With the Same Opinions? 633. Do Your Friends on Social Media All Have the Same Political Opinions You Do?

634. What Would You Do if You Won the Lottery? 635. What Superpower Do You Wish You Had? 636. What Era Do You Wish You Had Lived In? 637. Would You Want to Be a Tween or Teen Star? 638. Would You Want to Be a Child Prodigy? 639. Would You Want to Grow Up in the Public Eye? 640. What Kind of Robot Would You Want? 641. What Would You Outsource if You Could? 642. What Would You Like to Learn on Your Own? 643. What Would You Be Willing to Wait in a Really Long Line For? 644. If You Were a Super Rich Philanthropist, What Causes Would You Support? 645. What Would You Do if You Were President? 646. What Famous Person Would You Like to Visit Your School? 647. Who Would Be the Ideal Celebrity Neighbor? 648. What Do You Want to Be Doing When You’re 80? 649. Do You Want to Live to 100? 650. What Do You Want Your Obituary to Say?

30 Personal Essay Prompts

Why are personal essay prompts often so . . . blah?

I’ve sometimes found myself scouring the internet trying to find something valuable in the way of a prompt, maybe to share with students, and been disappointed by the results. But after a deep dive into some superb craft books, and some more diligent research, I’m excited to share the following 30 prompts (note: there are going to be more where this came from, so stay tuned!):

Personal Essay Prompts 1-10

1. ABC Segments . Write the alphabet on a sheet of paper. Pick one letter. Make a list of all the things you can think of that start with that letter – ideas, concepts, emotions, objects. Choose one word from that list and write a paragraph. Repeat. Three times works well. You can also use the same approach with colors, cities, seasons, and numbers. – Anne Panning, Rose Metal Press Book to Flash Nonfiction

2. Rewriting a Disagreement. Reflect upon your most recent intense altercation or disagreement with someone in real life. It should be an occasion where you were sure of the rightness of your position. After you ruminate on this experience of discord for a few minutes, write the scene from the other person's point of view.…Often this exercise takes two or three revisions before one understands that they need to let go of their personal sense of right and wrong. A ny judgment we bring to the page will dampen the freedom of the prose. And it is this freedom that the writer is after; the freedom to write about what it means to be human. — personal essay POV exercise adapted from Elizabeth Straut.

Short Story Masterclass (group class / Fall 2024)

LIMIT: 12 SPACES

Next session: March 24 - June 2, 2025.

This comprehensive, 10-week group class will teach you specific techniques and skills that will empower you to write great short stories. Along the way, you’ll meet other talented writers, and learn how to make your stories (shorter stories, and longer stories) work for excellent literary magazines. By the end of the class, you’ll have two finished stories and several new ideas. Asynchronous means there are NO meetings (well, one, but it’s optional). But because it’s a group class, students still engage in online conversations, peer review, and build community.

Work with an instructor whose own stories have appeared in The Paris Review, Ploughshares, Boston Review, Conjunctions, Guernica, and countless other great literary magazines.

3. I'm a terrible person . Think of a time in your life when you behaved less than perfectly. You didn't take the high road. You were mean to the class nerd. You shoplifted a sweater. You read your best friend's diary. But also list why a reading audience or reader might still root for you. Write an essay about what you did, why you did it, how it worked out, what you'd do differently today if you saw others repeat your mistakes and how it makes you feel now. —Adapted from Margot Leitman's Long Story Short.

4. Opposing Values. Make a list of opposing values or conflicts that pull you in different directions over your lifetime. For example:

money/spirituality

appearances/truthfulness

Impressing others/pleasing myself

Is there one conflict of values running through all? Money, appearances, and impressing others are important to your family. But you find they aren't your values. Choose a pair of opposing values to work with. Write down the first time you became aware of the conflict. Write down other times the conflict surfaced. Choose one, and write an essay on the scene and insights you have now. — Adapted from Tristine Rainer's Your Life As Story.

5. Three Braided Objects. Take three disparate objects randomly from your purse, backpack, or shelves. Set them in front of you and begin writing, allowing fifteen minutes for each object. See if you can use a common image or theme to bind these together. —Adapted from Brenda Miller, Writing Creative Nonfiction.

6. Rewriting a Scene. Without using first-person pronouns (I, me, mine, my, we, our, ours), write an accurate scene about an incident you witnessed firsthand. Then take the above scene and rewrite it twice, expressing a different tone—anger, fear, humor, sarcasm, etc.—between the lines. —Adapted from Philip Gerard, Writing Creative Nonfiction.

7. Thesaurus Essay. Make a list of words about a particular subject. Words for mountain bikes or international treaties, words for welding or Lauren Bacall– it doesn't matter so long as you're drawn to the topic. Read around, searching out specific verbs, nouns, and adjectives. Or explore the networks between words. Create a word-hoard or group of words that conjure your subject matter in your medium. Muse these words to write your piece. The words will work on you. —Judith Kitchen: Rose Metal Press Book of Flash Nonfiction.

8. Privacy . What have you kept to yourself — for a few days, a couple of months, your whole life? What makes you lock the door or clear your browser history? Draw the blinds and write. —The Sun

9. Reality vs. Desire . List three real-life people or fictional characters you relate to. Then list three real-life people or characters you wish you were like. Who do you relate to, and why is there a gap? What characteristics do the aspirational people have that you wish you did? Use this to start an essay with, "I wish I could be more like ___, but instead, I'm more like ___." —Adapted from Margot Leitman's Long Story Short.

10. Pressure . Write about a time you were persuaded to do something dangerous or didn't want to do. Or someone you know tried to pressure you into something, and you resisted. What was at stake? What did you win or lose by succumbing (or fighting) to that pressure? —Adapted from Monica Wood's The Pocket Muse: Endless Inspiration

Personal Essay Prompts 11-20

11. Apologize. Write an apology to someone in your past. Focus not purely on the emotion but on an event, an image, or your own "piece of wood." See where that takes you. When you're finished, look at your opening and ending sentences. Is there a relationship? Can you form one? – Brenda Miller, Rose Metal Press Book of Flash Nonfiction.

12. Story told a thousand times. Think of the story you've told most often in your life. Everyone has one. Your friends/family likely beg you to tell it. Now try to identify what's universal about that story. Is it a universal feeling? Struggle? Common misconception?—Adapted from Margot Leitman's Long Story Short.

13. Pain & Joy. Choose a painful period of your life. Now list 12 moments during that period where you experienced joy as human warmth, nature's endurance, inner quiet, or beauty or character—even if you weren't fully aware of those moments at the time. Take one of those moments and write an essay. –Adapted from Tristine Rainer's Your Life As Story.

3. Quirks & Stories . Write down a list of 10 quirks about yourself. Then, are there stories that explain these quirks? What makes you such a fabulous baker? What was the dumbest thing you've been competitive about? Choose one and write about how the quirk manifests in your everyday life, the earliest memory of that facet of your personality, and why you think you're so weird. —Adapted from Margot Leitman's Long Story Short.

14. Odd jobs. Start an essay with "I was a…" and describe the most unusual job you've had, even if it was unpaid or only lasted a day (spoiler: you were fired). Or write about the first day of your last job or the last day of your first job. —Adapted from Margot Leitman's Long Story Short and Monica Wood's The Pocket Muse: Endless Inspiration

15. On Animals. Pets are a popular topic for essays. Take it a little further than, "I love my dog. He's so cool!" What lessons has your dog taught you? Does your cat's experiences parallel your own in some way? Do you remember your first encounter with a wild or pet animal—how old were you, and what did you think? Is there an animal who influenced the direction of your life? When was your first pet loss, and when was the most recent? What did those experiences teach you about the process of loss and grief?

In my family, animals were _____

My least-favorite pet was ____ but ….

My favorite pet was ____, but ….

If I were a (wild) animal, I would be a _____

16. The Moment You Lost It. Think of a time you emotionally snapped. You lost your cool. You freaked out. You worried passersby. Recount the story with details, but find the humor in it now. Was it such a big deal? Why was it such a big deal at the time? Did it trigger an earlier memory or feeling? Do you regret it now? —Adapted from Margot Leitman's Long Story Short.

17. Memory chain . Look at an object in the room. Ask yourself what the thing reminds you of, and wait for a memory to arise. Write down details of that memory, even if bullet points. Write fast. Then wait a moment and ask yourself what that initial memory reminds you of. Write down that memory. And what, then, does that memory remind you of? Continue writing quickly for 6-7 chain links.

Choose one of the memories and write down all details—sensory, thoughts, feelings, dialogue, and what you wish you would've done or said differently.

Next, look over the piece, and think about how a stranger would read it. What do you need to revise to help them understand the importance of this memory? What do you need to rearrange, add, or cut altogether? –Adapted from James Moffett and Writing True by Sondra Perl

18. Use a photo. Look at an older photo of yourself with others from long ago. Write in the present tense about what you were thinking and feeling back then. Describe the setting, who the people are, and the social dynamics using show versus tell, including dialogue. Imagine what others in the photo are thinking and the moment from their point of view. –Adapted from Writing True by Sondra Perl

19. Take the L. Remember a time when you won something you didn't expect to win or a time when you lost something you expected to win. But still took something positive from the experience. This could mean winning the game or getting into college—or not. Think of critical points that would make others root for you. —Adapted from Margot Leitman's Long Story Short.

20 . Unloved. What's your most unloved possession? How did it come into your possession? Do you need it? Why do you keep it? What does it represent? How does it disappoint you? —Adapted from Monica Wood's The Pocket Muse: Endless Inspiration

Personal Essay Prompts 21-30

21. Someone else's story. Think about someone else's essay, account, or situation that's long stayed with you. Now find your spin on it. What was your opinion of the situation? Does it remind you of a similar situation where you made a different choice? How would you have handled the situation differently? How do you justify or make sense of what happened? —Adapted from Margot Leitman's Long Story Short.

22. Write a letter . Write a contradictory letter, such as a thank-you letter you don't mean. An apology you are insincere about. A "sorry you lost" letter for an enemy. Congratulations to someone you're insanely jealous of.

23. Twists. Choose a day that was supposed to be the best day of your life but was one of the worst. Or a worst day that turned out to be the best. Which problems or benefits could you have anticipated, and which were impossible? Is it something many people go through? Do you enjoy life's twists and surprises, or do you dread them? What did you learn, or how did that day or experience change you? —Adapted from Margot Leitman's Long Story Short.

24. Discomfort . Write as sympathetically as you can about someone who gives you the heebie-jeebies. Someone you distrust, you dislike, you fear might be a "nice guy who keeps to himself" or otherwise discomforts you. Why is he like this? Why do you have this reaction? How many are like him or her in the world, and have you known people like this before? Do you ever make others uncomfortable or feel as though you don't fit in, and how? —Adapted from Monica Wood's The Pocket Muse: Endless Inspiration

25. Idols. Who did you look up to but don't anymore? Who took their place? What teacher, pop star, family member, or religious leader has been a guiding light in the darkness? Or was it all smoke and mirrors? Tell us your true story. —The Sun

26. Common Folks' Phrases. Recall a phrase common to one of your communities and use it to begin a piece of flash nonfiction. Allow yourself to speak from the persona of the group. Then find a place to step forward and speak more personally. Turn toward the end of the piece, and consider how the persona you've established fits into or separates from the group persona. Be aware of the tensions between different aspects of yourself and how the short piece invites you to explore your character quickly.

– Lee Martin ("Dumber Than"), Rose Metal Press Book of Flash Nonfiction Plant

27. It's a Trap . Write about a time you baited someone or something in a trap. A lighting bug, a rat, a lover. What steps did you take? What would you recommend or not recommend to others? Why did you want to capture it? Was it causing harm or bringing joy? Did you keep the object of your desire or lose interest? Or fear the next step? Would you do something similar today? If you wish, compare or contrast with a time you felt trapped. When did you realize it had happened, and what happened next?

28. Conflict. Look for tensions, conflict, and irony in your life and how they illuminate larger themes while being very concrete.

A beautiful evening ruined by a joke

A day when everything changed

Someone accidentally destroyed something irreplaceable

Something you don't know (and don't want to)

A painful loyalty

A time you worked hard toward a morally ambiguous goal

—Adapted from Monica Wood's The Pocket Muse: Endless Inspiration Multi-Step Essay Prompts

29. Angles. Write four one-page first-person sketches about yourself from different POVs. Write a portrait of yourself or your character from the POV of:

Someone who loves you

Someone who will never understand you

Someone who despises you

Someone who wishes to understand you

—Adapted from Your Life is a Book by Brenda Peterson and Sarah Jane Freymann

30. Digress. Begin writing a scene that contains some descriptions or actions. Produce 4-10 sentences, then stop. This is your first paragraph. Then digress where the thoughts grow naturally out of what you have, then take on a life of their own. Use one of the following prompts:

That reminds me… (or I am reminded of, along those lines…)

I used to think… (that was before, I realize now…)

But it is also true … (an alternate perspective)

–Judith Kitchen: Rose Metal Press Book of Flash Nonfiction

Digress Part II. Begin writing a scene that contains some descriptions or actions. Produce 4-10 sentences, then stop. This is your first paragraph. Reuse this paragraph but change the topic in some active way. Or even an abrupt change.

Digress Part III. Begin writing a scene that contains some descriptions or actions. Produce 4-10 sentences, then stop. This is your first paragraph. Then write something that refers to one detail in the opening paragraph, a tangential digression. Imagery or detail association links the sections. Repeat it twice more, creating a three-part piece.

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What is a memoir essay.

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Writing Essays ›

Personal Essay Topics

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Writing Essays
Writing Research Papers
English Grammar
M.Ed., Education Administration, University of Georgia
B.A., History, Armstrong State University

A personal essay is an essay about your life, thoughts, or experiences. This type of essay gives readers a glimpse into your most intimate life encounters and lessons. There are many reasons you may need to write a personal essay, from a simple class assignment to a college application requirement . You can use the list below for inspiration. Consider each statement a starting point, and write about a memorable moment that the prompt brings to mind.

Your bravest moment
How you met your best friend
What makes your mom or dad special
How you overcame a fear
Why you will succeed
Why you made a difficult choice
A special place
A place you try to avoid
When a friend let you down
An event that changed your life
A special encounter with an animal
A time when you felt out of place
An odd experience that didn't make sense at the time
Words of wisdom that hit home and changed your way of thinking
A person you don't like
A time when you disappointed someone
Your fondest memory
A time when you saw your parent cry
The moment when you knew you were grown up
Your earliest memory of holiday celebrations in your home
Times when you should have made a better choice
A time when you dodged a dangerous situation
A person you will think about at the end of your life
Your favorite time period
A failure you've experienced
A disappointment you've experienced
A surprising turn of events
What you would do with power
What superpower you would choose
If you could switch lives with someone
How money matters in your life
Your biggest loss
A time when you felt you did the wrong thing
A proud moment when you did the right thing
An experience that you've never shared with another person
A special place that you shared with a childhood friend
A first encounter with a stranger
Your first handshake
Where you go to hide
If you had a do-over
A book that changed your life
Words that stung
When you had the desire to run
When you had the urge to crawl into a hole
Words that prompted hope
When a child taught you a lesson
Your proudest moment
If your dog could talk
Your favorite time with family
If you could live in another country
If you could invent something
The world a hundred years from now
If you had lived a hundred years earlier
The animal you'd like to be
One thing you'd change at your school
The greatest movie moment
The type of teacher you would be
If you could be a building
A statue you'd like to see
If you could live anywhere
The greatest discovery
If you could change one thing about yourself
An animal that could be in charge
Something you can do that robots could never do
Your most unfortunate day
Your secret talent
Your secret love
The most beautiful thing you've ever seen
The ugliest thing you've seen
Something you've witnessed
An accident that changed everything
A wrong choice
A right choice
If you were a food
How you'd spend a million dollars
If you could start a charity
The meaning of color
A close call
Your favorite gift
A chore you'd do away with
A secret place
Something you can't resist
A hard lesson
A visitor you'll never forget
An unexplained event
Your longest minute
An awkward social moment
An experience with death
Why you'll never tell a lie
If your mom knew, she'd kill you
A kiss that meant a lot
When you needed a hug
The hardest news you've had to deliver
A special morning
100 Persuasive Essay Topics
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Complete List of Transition Words
How to Write a Narrative Essay or Speech (With Topic Ideas)
Topical Organization Essay
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Write About Yourself: Tips and Prompts

by Joe Bunting and Sue Weems | 199 comments

When you have to write about yourself, do you hit a roadblock? If so, you're not alone. There are a number of situations when you have to write about yourself for school, work, or publication. Let's break down a few ways to make it easier and then use some prompts to get you started.

Write About Yourself with blue hello name tag

When Do You Have to Write About Yourself?

Several scenarios might require you to write about yourself from personal essays to job applications and biography blurbs.

The key for each is to think about the purpose and the target audience. Then shape your personal history or life experience into a well-crafted piece of writing that meets those needs of purpose and audience.

Let's look at a few of the most common scenarios where you have to write about yourself.

Personal Essays

Personal essays aren't just for high school. A personal essay typically reflects some aspect of your life that you are sharing for a specific purpose. Many college applications or scholarship applications ask for a college essay or personal statement to help them get to know you as a student or applicant.

If it's for a university or school application, you might write about:

academic achievements
personal accomplishments
difficult experiences that helped you grow
personal stories that relate to your desired field of study

Personal essays will have a friendly tone regardless of the essay topic. The personal examples you include or the personal stories you tell will need to be focused tightly on the audience and purpose. If you're trying to get into a university engineering program, you don't want to write about a pet's passing.

Your story of losing a pet is likely moving and will tell committee members about you and your personality traits, but it won't communicate why you might be a good fit for their school or program.

If you're writing a personal essay for a course in narrative or memoir, then of course, your story of your pet's passing would likely be a solid choice.

Personal Essay Prompts

1. Tell about a time you overcame a significant hardship.

2. Describe an interest that makes you lose track of time.

3. Tell the story of an experience or person who changed the way you thought or lived.

4. Describe a time you overcame rejection or fear.

5. How has your community shaped you as a person?

Job Applications

More and more job applications include personal statement sections or questions that ask you to describe your professional experience in more detail. Job seekers are often used to listing out bullet points on a resume, so writing about yourself can feel uncomfortable, even in a letter of introduction.

In professional settings and applications, you want to focus on four elements as you write about yourself:

relevant experience
recent professional accomplishments
personal details that enhance your qualifications
specializations

Again, keep your purpose and audience in mind. If you're having trouble narrowing down your relevant experience, consider looking at the job listing to see what they require of applicants. That way, you tailor your experience to what the position requires.

Some common job application prompts

1. Tell us about yourself. (They aren't asking about your favorite food or vacation last year! Focus on professional experiences.)

2. What are your strengths and weaknesses?

3. How have you managed conflict in former roles?

4. Describe your strongest professional accomplishments.

5. Why do you want to work here?

Remember, each of these questions is designed to help a company get to know you as a professional—share only relevant stories and details that align with that purpose.

Author or Speaker Biographies

As a writer (or speaker!), you need an author biography to include on any publications. These can be short 100 word statements that give the audience a sense of who you are as a person.

Again, the purpose and audience matters. If you are a scholar writing and speaking on a topic in your academic field, it's appropriate to list your relevant degrees and major publications to build a sense of credibility and authority.

If you're a fiction author, your biography will likely reflect a few personal details that are meant to connect with readers in a positive light.

The best way to know what will connect with your intended audience, is to look at the biographies and About the Author pages in books like your own.

A few things you might include in an author or speaker biography:

where you live (generally speaking—not your personal address)
themes you explore
awards, recognition, or other publications
relevant personal background info

You can see our full guide here on writing an author biography here .

Prompts for author or speaker biographies

1. What are the two most important things for your audience to know about you?

2. Find two authors writing in the same genre you are. Write your biography using their bios as models.

3. What themes do you explore in your work and why are they important to you? Write them out, and then condense.

4. What experience or awards are relevant to your work? List them out and pick the top two.

5. Make a list of all the things that you likely have in common with your target audience. Choose two to include in your biography.

How to Write About Yourself

Whenever you're asked to write about yourself, take it as a challenge to share relevant personal experiences with vivid details and your unique point of view. Remember that you're not sharing your entire life story. Stick to short personal anecdotes and pay attention to your purpose and audience.

How do you feel about writing about yourself? What tips have made it easier? Share in the comments.

Choose one of the prompts above. Set the timer for 15 minutes and write about yourself without stopping. If you don't have an essay, job app, or bio to write, then simply try to capture something true about yourself and your experience in the world today.

When time is up, share your practice in the Pro Practice Workshop here and leave feedback to encourage a few other writers too.

Joe Bunting

Joe Bunting is an author and the leader of The Write Practice community. He is also the author of the new book Crowdsourcing Paris , a real life adventure story set in France. It was a #1 New Release on Amazon. Follow him on Instagram (@jhbunting).

Want best-seller coaching? Book Joe here.

Sue Weems is a writer, teacher, and traveler with an advanced degree in (mostly fictional) revenge. When she’s not rationalizing her love for parentheses (and dramatic asides), she follows a sailor around the globe with their four children, two dogs, and an impossibly tall stack of books to read. You can read more of her writing tips on her website .

Work with Joe Bunting?

WSJ Bestselling author, founder of The Write Practice, and book coach with 14+ years experience. Joe Bunting specializes in working with Action, Adventure, Fantasy, Historical Fiction, How To, Literary Fiction, Memoir, Mystery, Nonfiction, Science Fiction, and Self Help books. Sound like a good fit for you?

199 Comments

This is one of my favorite ways to write 🙂 Except I like to use “you”, as if I am talking to myself and telling myself what I am doing or have already done.

He sits in his office chair, staring at the computer screen. In the cube next to him he can hear the sound of a coworker banging on a loud keyboard. The printer spits out paper after paper, other co workers talk and laugh. “I would never want to be a landlord.” “It’s not so bad.” The light of the mid morning day streams in behind him as he works on his assignments, filling in forms, completing spreadsheets, answering emails. Sometimes he thinks the entire job is all about email management. How did he get to this place, to this life? Simple, small choices add up until years later he finds himself bored and unenthusiastic about where he is. His cell buzzes next to him, notifying him of a text message. He checks it, hoping to see a message from his girlfriend but finds instead a message from his ex-wife. He ignores it. Chatter continues around him, papers turning, the mail delivery guy singing to himself pushing a squeaky cart down the aisles. Time passes under the glow of fluorescent lights and the hum of overhead heaters. The fan on his laptop starts spinning and he places his hand next to the computer to feel the warmth blowing out from it. Simple pleasures. He puts headphones on to drown out the noises and looks at his plan once again. The way out. Hope for a future of freedom and joy, real life, not the feeling of entrapment and stagnant death. It all begins with courage. The courage to face up to the difficult choices ahead, courage to face his fears, courage to be honest and real with himself and those all around him. It starts now.

I learned a long time ago that I am not trapped in any place in my life. I think the truest thing you said was to be honest and real with yourself. This certainly touched a chord in me.

I continue to learn that lesson. I’m glad the message touched you.

brilliantly inspiring. I don’t know if you meant for that. Like it!

I’ll take it, thanks!

i’m intrigued as to what the details of “his plan” are; like the mystery with which you end your last paragraph.

i might try deleting certain phrases to slim it down. for example, i might get rid of “notifying him of a text message” after “His cell buzzes next to him” and just end the sentence there, since in the next sentence you talk about anticipating a message from a certain someone.

“email management.” i like how it all reminds me of the movie office space but has more depth. thanks for sharing!

Thanks Sara, great feedback!

Josh, I recognized the office. In fact I think I worked there. Good job. I like your last sentance. “It starts now.” If you were writing about a fictional character would he get up and walk out of that office then?

You got it Vicki!

I love how you wrote your piece this morning. It shows your longing to discover who you want to be..

Here’s my attempt at it:

The morning starts as it always does, with the cold seeping into her bones. Although she is under the covers somewhere there is a gap in the covers because the cold invades her dreams. AS she wakes her thoughts begin to race as she wondered where her writing will take her. Which story will she choose and what will she learn about herself from her Characters today.

Because the cold works to sap her energy as she pulls herself from the covers, she sets her feet on the rug. She feels older then she is. Reaching for her robe she works to keep the dreams fresh in her mind so shemay write them on paper before they are lost forever never to resurface again. Until she is away from writing instruments.

With her eyes barely slits she shuffles to the kitchen to start her day. Knowing where everything is she begins the task of making coffee and waits impatiently as it heats. Finally with her cup filled she carefully moves to her desk by the window and takes a seat. Pushing the button that awakes her ‘baby’, she listens for the hum as it awakes ready to take in what her fingers type.

What will her writing revel to her today as she steps one step closer to discovering who she is, for she can only know these secrets when her fingers what no one else will see.

But we want to see the secrets. 🙂 I’m intrigued.

When I finish writing I will share with you, then we’ll both know. *smiles*

Good timing! This is the morning I am having. And having written this, I know what I am going to do.

My practice…

In a moment of utter frustration, she walked away from the computer. The story in her head wouldn’t form; it came out in bits and pieces.

She knew she needed more research but couldn’t find what she wanted. How do you explain a world when your perspective is that of a child? While the world swirled around her, she didn’t take notice. As a child, she didn’t care about things she couldn’t comprehend.

The story’s important. It’s a tale of innocence that was destroyed by events she didn’t understand. The story’s old. Ruth died 46 years ago. The anger at her death is old too but doesn’t seem to lessen. Sometimes, it seems like it happened yesterday. The images of the last day are clear. The sounds and the smells are as fresh now as they were then.

Again, frustration overtook her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to change her perspective to that as an adult. The child in her would not let go. It was easy enough to check dates and events but those were just the things that happened to other people outside her realm. In their small neighborhood, none of the global events affected them. They had been sheltered from the reality of the adult world.

Years later when she was able to piece the events together, she realized what had happened. She was angry all over again. And the child in her took over, raging at the adults who let it happen, who shattered the innocence forever.

“Screw this,” she thought. She sat back down at the computer and started to write. “I am going to write it from the child’s perspective.”

Yay! That’s what I was hoping for!

Throughout your piece I KNOW what you are writing about. The fact you were able to make me feel your pain and frustration, without actually describing the acts that caused them,

I really like your practice, Joe. Here’s mine:

Alicia should be ashamed of herself, but she isn’t. She should be working on her recent assignment but has yet to make it past 16 words, and she still doesn’t hate herself. Instead of getting paid to write, she’s spent the last hour writing about why she loves writing and reading about writing. Does that bother her? No. Should it? Probably.

Alicia normally has a full cup of self-discipline, but with the end of the semester approaching, she just wants a break, and it can’t get here soon enough. So she finds comfort on her couch, crosses her legs, and types whatever comes to mind through her fingers. She lets the writing consume her, take it where she needs to go, until she can muster up the energy to begin her assignment.

But the day is still young, and it’s quiet in the living room, with just the soft sound of running water in the fish tanks to calm her nerves. And while Alicia’s been stressing all week over her endless to-do list, she’s calm now because she gets to write about what she loves and learn how to improve her talents.

Alicia glances at the clock, and her heart flutters with annoyance. She had planned to finish her assignment before heading back to class, and now she only has an hour to research and write 675 words to meet this goal. She narrows her eyes. Will she be able to do it? Or will part of the article have to wait for later? She exits out of the extra tabs on her browser, even the pages she has yet to read, and prepares to settle down and get to the writing she should actually be doing.

Love that “the writing consumes her” and the “water in the fish tanks calm her nerves”. She “writes about what she loves”….the best reason to write!

Thanks for the feedback. I wasn’t actually sure how I did since I was in a rush.

She had been up for two hours and only after making picky- eating- nutritionally- acceptable breakfasts, appetizing yet balanced lunch boxes with the right sized plastic containers to fit every corner of the bento boxes, looking for toys, crazy loom bracelets, socks, shoes, super hero shirts, underpants and sweatshirts, negotiating every minute of TV watching and making up games to get everyone off to school on time, only then, she was able to finally sit and be herself. It took making sure that the 4th grader had the confidence to ask classmates to come to his birthday, even though they “think I’m weird” and that the 3 year old could look forward to playing with preschool toys instead of swords and handle being away from his mommy for at least four hours straight. It took giving more than what she had, setting aside her needs, her feelings, her frustration, her anger, her timing, her opinions, her natural inclination to wake up slowly into the world, to induce her children into a hostile world that had to contain them while she could become a person again. A person who had to reconstruct herself everyday at 9 am; reviving memories, making sense of goals and lost dreams, making sure she retained the spark in between errands and chimerical schemes.

[whew]. i feel like i got caught in the whirlwind with you.

Love all of it, but especially the lines, “It took giving more than what she had, setting aside her needs, her feelings, her frustration, her anger, her timing, her opinions, her natural inclination to wake up slowly into the world, to induce her children into a hostile world that had to contain them while she could become a person again. A person who had to reconstruct herself everyday at 9 am; reviving memories, making sense of goals and lost dreams” … you have captured many moms’ gut-wrenching feelings, and done us proud!

Been there, done that. I’m right with you on this. It is but a thumbnail sketch of a mother’s morning.

Ditto. My kids are grown, but you took me back. And your last sentence is spot on, with or without kids underfoot.

Her days are filled with projects and a certain urgency to life, a hurry to complete goals before time floats away. Her head is full of stories, imaginary and fully lived. A favorite time of day is retiring to the small office, just off the kitchen, where she writes. One wall of the office features an oil painting by her sister of a mountain scene, another photo depicts the Appalachian mountains with low clouds floating like angels across the peaks. A small window allows a glimpse of sky, a few leaves tumbling out of the roof gutter and the imprint of a dizzy bird which hit the window. Stories spill out of her mind as fast as she can type, with hesitation just long enough to find the right words to transfer an image to paper. The urgency is there: don’t let the memory fade, the precious moment escape before sharing it. Her heart is overwhelmed with gratitude for life itself. Sticky notes surround her desk: a reminder to read a new book, a list of stories to be included in a collection, several titles for her book, a reminder to run a backup disk of all her writing. Every week she reads books to elementary school children, pouring out her love of written words to children dominated by TV and the Xbox. Others her age have passed on to a different life. Time is precious. She considers the title for a blog, “Not Done Yet”.

so. i forgot to describe my surroundings. it’s been awhile since i’ve done a prompt! i think the last time was to help me get started on my personal statement, so maybe this one will rev me up again for the final onslaught/phases of my applications. thanks, joe. now i have to resist the temptation to revise this instead of working on apps. 😛

————————-

Desperate times calls for desperate measures, she thought as she clicked “Deactivate” on the screen. This might’ve been a good weekend to hole up in a cabin, somewhere in the Hudson Valley, maybe. But with what money? She’s trying her best to resist the plastic precious in her wallet.

She’s also trying her best to focus on the many tasks at hand. Revise her resume for one school. Send a Hail Mary email to a professor for a letter of recommendation. Write about how she would add diversity — convincingly, too; debunk the notion that there are enough Asian females in law school, and in law in general.

She also wants to do the right thing. Her heart has entered yet another spin cycle of “Does he like me like me?” She’s not tired of being wrong, she’s tired of the uncertainty. She’d rather know if he’s just not that into her — those late night text messages actually don’t count?! — and be put out of her misery.

But it’ll hurt anyway. Is it wrong that she just so happened to connect with someone else that might actually be into her? She thinks there might be something there…

But she still can’t forget how quickly the two of them connected. How they met twice in the span of one day. Who does that?

She clocked in at the library and went to sit down at the library’s little coffee bar. If she she was lucky she would have time to study in between customers… if she was lucky. Her eyes scanned the little library…. it looked like it would be a slow day. Time to study… but would she use it? It seemed forever ago since she had started the semester and now she was almost done… not really done though… school always just seemed to keep on going. Semester after semester…. year after year. “Study,” she told herself, but her mind would not focus. Too much had happened to not just take a moment to think about. Sometimes she wondered if God liked to see her scrambling so she could remember… remember Him. She’d had so many instances to turn her mind to God that week, too many times it felt like… and probably many more times in the future. She sighed. Study.

I can see myself playing this mental/spiritual game too.

She wakes before the clock radio starts muttering. Realizing that she slept through the night makes her giddy. Yes. All right! A full night’s sleep. The Holy Grail. She wakes rested and ready to take on the day, but not quite yet. Husband breathes deeply next to her in the king-size bed she loves. Day has not dawned, but there is enough ambient glow from night lights and electronics to take in the cloud-like expanse of their white comforter. This is her nest, her safe haven. She would be embarrassed to tell anyone how much she loves this retreat, with its cathedral ceiling, extravagant crown molding, paintings and family photos. It is hidden away in a corner of their townhouse that looks like hundreds of neighboring abodes from the exterior. And yet, even though she shares it, she coverts time alone here to read, to write. to muse.

Love this…can relate (except the husband part) … laughed out loud re: “She would be embarrassed to tell anyone how much she loves this retreat, with its cathedral ceiling, extravagant crown molding, paintings and family photos.” Men are not the only ones who have their caves! Your retreat sounds so cozy and I share your love for having my own comfy hideaway, my respite from a sometimes chaotic outside world!

Tami, I hadn’t thought of my retreat as the equivalent of a man cave. That made me smile and nod.

She might have been embarrassed to share how much she enjoys her retreat, but I’m glad she did. Loved that thought. And knowing people who struggle hoping to get a good night’s sleep, I understand giddy. I liked your piece.

Anne, Thanks for affirming that what I was feeling came across.

I empathize with the feeling of not wanting to move from your space, to actually enjoy what you’ve bought, cleaned, and decorated.

Thank you, Susan. It feels so good to know that my words connected with you.

She would always hide in the corner, and curse quietly in a funny little accent she wouldn’t dare identify if you remembered her name. She’s usually silent, invisible, and overly polite, but once you got her to start talking there was no end to her rapid fire run-on sentences, stretched analogies, and skewed logic, peppered with random facts acquired from a long reading history or else personal experience. Sometimes people gather around her and just listen, if they can follow, and it’s the only time they see her at all–when she’s rambling incessantly. She gets weird looks from everyone around her and it’s one of the only things in the entire world that make her smile. Ah yes! The humans think she’s an oddling! Cue the fanfare.

She’s willing to talk about almost anything, but sometimes certain things come up and she quiets right back down and doesn’t say another word for hours. Did you hear about that celebrity that just got diagnosed with cancer? How about that girl who killed herself? The dude caught dealing drugs and killed a cop? And what about that serial rapist they just caught?

If you looked closer, you might see the way she trembles. You might guess what sinister reminders it brought.

But she’s not talking, and nobody sees her when she isn’t talking.

I’m not sure why this doesn’t have more comments, because you’re certainly not silent in your writing.

Beautiful, beautiful! I can identify with her, silent and invisible, until she speaks, and people listen because her words are rare, precious and unique!

She lays back in the chair, hair still damp, her skin glistening. The smell of coconut oil conjures up tropical beaches and swaying palms; a strong contrast to the snow covered view through the window. As her eyes open, grey as the sky, she thinks of tomorrow. A fresh pot of coffee, followed by a quick pick up, and since the heavy chores are done the day will unfold as she chooses. She anticipates choosing to think about things that have not yet been thought. She anticipates the time to remember things that deserve remembering, and maybe some that do not. Perhaps since she’s been ‘good’ she can start now. After all, she can’t see the clock from where she sits so time is not really passing. It is better, she thinks, to measure time by what gets finished- a thought, a smile, a loaf of bread, a good book.

Very nice mood, here. I can totally picture it.

Thank you, Susan. Maybe now that the mood is down on paper, I can conjure it up on demand 😉

You’re welcome. I love writing that evokes (invokes?) mood.

Evoke vs Invoke- Initially evoke worked for me, the idea that the writing “calls up” a mood. But then your choice had me googling- and I like that invoke suggests an active calling, maybe even with incantations. And I see that I posted more than once in response to your initial comment….time for that second pot of coffee!

I’ll join you for coffee.

Thank you Susan. I liked hearing that you can picture the mood.

“After all, she can’t see the clock from where she sits so time is not really passing.” What a great line! An inner thought that probably all of us have felt, but never quite put into words. Thank you for sharing.

Thank you. This is my first prompt exercise and it is lovely to get feedback. I had recently had a conversation with a friend about the bane of electronics and clocks in our lives so I suppose that this thought has been brewing for a while. When I saw the 15 minute limit for the prompt, I ‘promptly’ turned away from the clock and so…..

What about the numbers that rule our lives?

Well, only if we let them….but truly, people impart a magic to the ‘right number’. Just look at how the media uses numbers: the TEN best, SEVEN most……

I was thinking of our numbers for social securiy, bank accounts, cellphones, passports, vehicle registrations, etc. Must admit they bring a sort of order to everything.

very nice description of your thoughts, feels like a calm mind

Thank you. I think that writing brings me calmness.

Those are wonderful measuring tools. Enjoyed this peaceful peace. Wondered if she was drinking a cup of tea as she sat there. Nice.

Thanks. And no, she was not drinking a cuppa. But the pot was set to boil.

Very simple, but very effective. I love her thoughts on time- just passing thoughts, but important all the same

“It is better, she thinks, to measure time by what gets finished- a thought, a smile, a loaf of bread, a good book.” I really loved this. The true value of time is found in the things that make it special.

13:23 to 13:38 She prefers numbers to words. The numbers maintain their meaning whether she says them or someone else tells them to her. She’s sitting outside this afternoon, warming in the sun, thawed out for the first time today. The sofa faces the garden, downhill and she sifts through the chores in her mind, the only way she knows how to avoid getting up, finding her garden gloves and walking down and through the gate to get dirty. But today she has limited time, a to do list perched on her desk reminding her to stay on task. Lunch has been eaten, dishes cleared away. It was bean soup, the same thing she’ll have for dinner tonight and the same thing she’ll have for lunch again tomorrow. She would be happy as a dog, eating the same food every day. She read and wrote on her lunch break instead of rushing back inside to sit at her desk and finish the lingering items. What was the use? There would never be a day without a long list if to do items. She abandoned her desk every day at lunch. She demanded outdoor sunshine, the smell of dirt and the sounds of birds and bugs, of leaves skittering across the pavement. The same wind that scattered the leaves made the chimes release their music. Planes roared over head at thirty thousand feet. The numbers would call her back soon enough. She’d arrange and rearrange them and send them off in different forms to different departments. She didn’t believe for a minute that anyone read or analyzed her numbers but since she was paid to do it, she worked the spreadsheets and calculator. One day she’d total everything up in a today package and start using words. A backlog was developing and she knew that one day they would have to come spilling out across pages and pages and books and books. The End

Yes, one day the words would have to come out. They can’t be jammed in there forever. I liked the wind that scattered the leaves and made the chimes release their music. I also like how she had to choose between numbers and words. Though I have made similar choices, I still prefer the words. They dance.

Numbers…the universal language…

I felt a bit wistful (on her behalf) reading this.

The Yahoo Mail waiting symbol chugged slowly in a circle as it pulled messages from who knows where. He wasn’t too worried or impatient, though. It had only been a couple days, and he was sure there wouldn’t be a response yet. Even if there were, he was prepared.

99.5 percent of new authors are rejected, he’d told himself a thousand times. And he believed it.

On top of that, he wasn’t crazy about his query letter. And, after reading his manuscript a hundred times over, he’d decided there were parts he positively hated. But this was a crucial step. Unlike all those other times in his life, he was saying, “Fuck you” to fear. It felt nice, and was especially easy this time, because he knew exactly what would happen. In fact, he was downright excited to get that first rejection.

I’m putting myself out there.

Smiling to himself, he clicked the “Check e-mail” button for the hundredth time that week.

This time, a new message appeared, and he gasped after reading the familiar e-mail address.

This was it. And he was ready. More than ready; this wasn’t even one of his favorite agents. He had decided to submit to a couple ‘middle of the pack’ agents, first. That way, he could hone, as needed, for the big dogs.

Not even bothering to take a breath, he clicked the e-mail and its contents flashed on the screen.

Dear author:

Blah blah blah blah blah blah Rejected blah blah blah blah.

Sincerely, Agent

He stared at the screen, wide-eyed. There it was, exactly as he had expected. And, exactly as expected, he tried to grin and nod to himself.

But something different happened.

For some reason, his neck faltered and his head hung like a corpse.

Then, before he could stop himself, he’d lowered himself to the desk. The second his forehead touched the cool metal, his eyes overflowed, and he choked a sob into his keyboard.

This is such a great portrayal! Though I haven’t gotten that brave yet, I can see myself acting and reacting just the way this guy does, even after he’s steeled himself for rejection!

Thanks!! This actually happened *today* :/ It’s a little exaggerated but the wash of emotions was definitely accurate. Oh well, it will get easier! And if I can be that brave (although I wouldn’t call it that, lol), anyone can.

He should just remind himself how many times some bestsellers were rejected. They say you don’t finish a novel, you abandon it. We’re always learning. Right till the moment when we write our last words and curl our toes.

Just a hint of light was showing through the datk navy roman shades. The three cats were already restless, anxious to be fed. Ghost, the smallest of the three, curled up next to her right ear purring loudly. Brother began to paw at her feet, nibbling on her toes. The third cat, pounced onto the bed, and curled himself onto her belly.

Pulling the covers over her head, she moaned. “I’m not ready to get up yet guys. Go away.” Flexing her right shoulder, she dislodged Ghost and rolled onto her left side. The cats, sensing her mood, quickly.vacated the bed.

Like a blow, the large empty space in her bed confronted her. This was where her husband should be. Instead, on the nightstand next to his spot sat a black box. It contained all that was left of the man she had loved for thirty.seven years. Seeing the box always caused her to sob. Crying was better than not having something of him with her. She reached over and touched the box. “I love you sweetheart.”

Slowly she swung her legs out of bed and sat up on the edge. The room around her was cluttered, dirty, and disorganized. She sighed and heaved herself slowly up, holding to the edge of the bed for balance. Already her back ached and hard pain shot down her left leg. As she reached for.her mefication bag her shoulder screamed, “time for.a pain pill.” Hastily.she swallowed a handful of meds. In thirty minutes she would feel better.

The boys were now milling around her feet, begging to be fed. First she bent and scooped the nights gifts from the litter box. Then, she filled thier bowl with dry food topped with a can of tuna. With her furry children content, she finally turned to her laptop.

Now was her time, in the quiet morning hours, to put words on a blank page. This was what kept her getting out of bed each day. This was the gift she gave herself, permission to create.

I like the “nights gifts from the litter box”.

She’s surrounded by her favorite entity – words. A long bookshelf mostly contaning classics, hangs overhead, winding the wall. Small hands with slim fingers type on the laptop placed on her lap. Though the room is dim, christmas lights hang around the window, cast a festive glow. The black coated corgi keeps her company, laying at her feet and occasionally popping up for a pet. The girl, for she is not fully a woman, bites her pink lips and runs her hands along her auburn hair when stuck for ideas. As she writes away in her second book, thoughts of doubt begin to creep in. For a minute, her hands stall and the fire drains from her green eyes when she listens to the lies. Is it worth it? Who would read it anyway? Success has been slim thus far, why would this book bring a different fortune? With a sigh she glances at the books behind her. Some of them are so tattered that the binding is becoming undone, so often has it been read. Very few of them are from this century and as she ponders why, she turns to her work again, mindful of her passion. She MUST write this story for the love of good literature, wholesome stories and beautiful writing. Though in many ways, she knows she lacks necessary experience, that is why she must write all the more. So that perhaps one day, she can contribute to the world that has helped her so, if not just to say thank you.

I love this picture! The Christmas lights around the window, the black corgi for company, shelves of old books for inspiration, small hands on the laptop. I’m a bit confused by listening “to the lies”? Maybe you could expand on that a little? Very touched by “she can contribute to the world that has helped her, if not just to say thank you.” Thanks for sharing.

I really identify with the “lies”, for that’s what many of our self-doubts are. Also the good books on the wall, I share that affinity, and very few of mine are from this century either! And writing as a thank-you to the world is a beautiful idea. Good work!

Thank you! I’m glad I’m not the only one 🙂

Isn’t that how it is for us writers? To be compelled to keep on writing, not knowing how successful we will be. We owe it to the craft itself, to write, not just to be published, but to become better. Good empathy.

As if swimming were not lonely enough, she ventures off to the beach for an open water swim. All by her lonesome. She and her sisters coined this part of the shore, “Lonely Beach.” It was where they went when they didn’t feel like being social or seen.

She waded in on a Sunday afternoon—the sky shrouded in gray humidity. Sharing the sand with an old lady walking a dog and a hippy wielding a metal detector, she sighed. Within the sigh she asked herself a question and then answered it. “Why do I do this? …You’re paddling the extra lap.”

She stood staring at her feet as the water washed over, their prints seeming like primitive clay monster feet. She crossed her arms, hugging each elbow in a palm. Her hair blew across her nose, causing it to itch. She paused to watch the guy deliberate over the metal detector. To her, it was an odd way to spend an afternoon.

Yes, she was stalling. There is a certain amount of psychological readying to taking the plunge. She bolstered herself, silently.

“You’re here.”

“You might as well get started.”

She thought that may be she was a lonely soul, an old soul. She craned her head over a shoulder to look at a vacant lifeguard stand, imagining a chiseled sun bleached body, shading his eye contact in Ray-Bans. The sign read, No Lifeguard—Swim At Own Risk. She was swimming, at her own risk.

I like the lonely feeling of the place, that certain stretch of beach, and the sense of looming risk that she stalls from facing. Her response to the sign — swimming, at her own risk — sounds like it could be a theme in the story. Good practice!

Thanks John. Yes, you nailed it. The theme for a story that is…

Hope this develops into a short story (.meant as one of the highest compliments) … want to hear more…want to know where this goes!

Thank you, Tami. I kind of cheated. This is part of a larger piece I’ve been working on for years. It was not an impromptu writing effort.

I was able to step into the image and the feelings you impart in the paragraph describing her staring at her feet, hugging her elbow,etc. Thank you.

Thanks JC. Again, writing can be so creatively charging!

Loved the primitive clay monster feet. I got to experience those when I went to Michigan with my daughter so you gave me a chance to revisit. And I almost felt like I had to brush the sand off my feet even now. Thanks for your piece. And stalling. I know stalling.

I liked how that came out too, Anne. Isn’t it great fun to create something out of the blue? Wouldn’t know it was there if I hadn’t started typing. And the word, ‘stalling’, I had to use that. It is a strong verb.

Mister Computer says it’s 34 degrees Fahrenheit. The rain hasn’t started yet; they’re saying it could be worse than at the 2011 Superbowl. If it sleets/snows, the office will be closed and he won’t have to go and repeat yesterday’s terrifying wrestling-match: answering calls, first-day panic, taking questions he didn’t know the answers to yet — he answered phones for the gubm’t for nine years through sheer force of will, Before. Does he have it in him to do it again? He kinda hopes it snows.

He remembers how much fun it was this morning helping with the produce at Seniors, wrestling three dozen frozen turkeys into an upright position so his partner could slip a wal-mart bag over it. He broke a sweat, he’d have you know. It’s good to work for your dinner.

It’s gonna be a tight couple of weeks due to car registration, high heat bill, just too much dang month left at the end of the money. But that sackful of food from this morning is gonna help a whole lot. He’ll make it. He always makes it.

He’s just a little less self-confident at the moment, with the new job, new people to deal with, and the memory of backing into that man’s pickup in the bank parking-lot Monday morning isn’t helping. He keeps worrying at it in his mind. His fault. Insurance likely to go up. Is he losing his edge? Should he give up the car and start riding the bus? Did it for five years in the ‘nineties, and has less problem with the idea than some would.

He’ll never get too old to make a mistake. And he’ll never escape change.

Definitely a man aging back and forth. I like the word picture you use in the first paragraph of the office zone being like a wrestling mat. I also like the line about too much dang month at the end of the money.

Aging back and forth, yeah, exactly, I like that! Age coming on, but the youth hasn’t left the building. Thank you!

Agreed, I loved the line “too much dang month…”. I actually did a double-take when I read it, thinking “huh?” Then it hit me and I smiled (maybe a little jealously 🙂

It’s amazing how self-doubt creeps in with age. That’s when you start taking a hard look at the person you’ve lived with all the years.

Yes, taking a hard look at that person — and still choosing to accept him/her! Self-doubt is a temporary state of affairs.

I can’t explain it, but I love the line (and the feeling that goes along with it), “He’ll never get too old to make a mistake”.

Today the flame went out. It had been slowly dying for quite some time. Flickering, waning… But always still there.

Today it gave up. It no longer had wind, wood nor heat. Today the fire died.

The wind should have come on the wings of laughter,

From whispered words of love, kindness and affirmation. From the sheer joy of knowing they had been SO blessed. But even then, Wind is not enough.

The wood should have been there too. It used to be. It was determination, commitment to their future together. Fuel is necessary, and it must come from

A renewable source, Unconditional and full of promise. They must have stopped gathering wood together.

The heat is gone too. Flames would sometimes rise, showing promise of the Once familiar fire… Sometimes it was all-consuming, Sometimes warm and comfortable. Now, it is neither. There is no wind, no wood, no heat.

He had big dreams, but she doesn’t know what they were. He didn’t share them with her. She’s not even sure he could because maybe He didn’t even know what they were himself.

She had dreams too…everybody does, right? Not lofty dreams, but good dreams still. And her dreams included him. What she thought they had together, Yesterday, today, and all her tomorrows.

She doesn’t know which happened first. Did the flame go out and she awakened from the cold? Or did she just become cold, And watch the flames die? All she knows is, today the flame went out. Today, the fire died.

Tami, This is so poignant. I want to mourn for what they have lost because they stopped trying and didn’t share their dreams and hopes.

Thank you, Marilyn. I realize it didn’t really follow the prompt directions, but sometimes, it’s just what comes out, ya know? Thanks for sharing.

I like the element of fire showing a relational climate. It was pleasant to follow your prose with the way you formed your lines, like a poem.

Thank you, Susan, for sharing your observation. It did, indeed, evolve into more of a poetry format, though not intentionally. I often write long hand — maybe how I process things — and I decided to use the same format when posting.here.

This grabbed me, a very interesting and well done way to describe a relationship and how it flickered away.

Tami, Great piece. Sadly it captures what my brother is going through. His plans included her. Hers did not. He’s hurting because the fire died. Also it reminded me of a song my son’s group just released. His words and yours run parallel. Enjoyed this.

She sits there, staring numbly into the computer screen of a random website. Noises of her father and brother are behind her along with their laughter and christmas music. But she just stares, thinking of her life, how she is beginning to see things differently. She thinks of the morning of school today, waiting for the bell to ring as her childhood friends laugh and just goof off but she just couldn’t bring herself to laugh. She yawned and just looked to her left, passed her closes friend’s face. Should she feel guilty that once she sees another friend she only known from her early years at the school she begins to laugh and enjoy herself? She questions herself in front of the computer screen. She blinks…then her mind travels to another problem:her dream. Her dream of writing short stories. She has good ideas and her mind won’t shut up but of course right when she grab that dreadful pen her mind suddenly zips up and her ideas hitch a train for nowhere. And that train would be reality.

The alarm rings, and she presses the snooze button every ten minutes for the next half hour. It’s early, way too early, but she finally gets up at 5:30 to the sound of classical music. Her chocolate lab watches as she rises, and she could hear his tail thumping against his mat. Adorable. By the time she goes downstairs, the coffee has already perked; its wafting aroma stimulating her senses.

By the time her husband comes down, the breakfast table is set, and they share the first morning brew along with some conversation. Once he’s out the door, things quiet down once again. Her mind wanders as she does the morning dishes., but as usual, it focuses on her afternoon down time because once the chores have been completed, she ensconces herself in her nook and writes. Once her imagination is liberated, it’s the highest kite she can fly…

The highest kite she can fly. Love it. I also loved the tone of your piece. It just quietly unfolded. And how nice to come down to a table set. I felt as if I were peeking in to see it all. Love the tone.

Thanks, Anne. That’s about how it unfolds.

Writing as the antithesis to chore. Love it!

Yes, JC, “antithesis” is an excellent word to describe what writing is to me as compared to other things. Thanks.

He could have taken the car to work. But that meant sitting in traffic, and a hefty slice out of your savings for the parking. After all, his retirement, or call it by its real name, retrenchment, loomed. At his age he’d never find anything. He sits on the upper deck, among all the youngsters. Not for the company, but for the view. From there he can see into people’s houses, how they scramble around to be in time at the office. He tried sitting downstairs once, but it wasn’t the same. He was lower than them; it felt as if they were watching him. So he went back upstairs among those boisterous youngsters, who spoke about which club they’d been to the previous night, and other mindless things. Energy is wasted on the young, he often thought. Rather give it to us adults, who’ve had a lifetime learning to put it to good use. On the way back there’d be those drunkards heading for that rough working class neighbourhood on the route He later found that if he buried his nose in a book they left him alone. And the noise faded into the background as the youngsters excluded him from their sphere of attention. Now that his pension days were around the corner he’d like to turn the clock back and do things he should have done. And undo those things he shouldn’t have. He’d spent his life as a passenger, becoming part of what went on around him by being a spectator.

And now it’s time to pull out all those treasures you’ve been storing up through all those years of spectating, sort them out, categorize them, and share them with the world. No time for retirement! You have work to do! I agree, energy is wasted on the young. Those of us with things to tell need the energy to do it!

Thanks for the advice.

The room is small, cozy. The air is still, having not yet been disturbed by the travels of the people still sleeping in the darkness. Looking out the window he sees the trees reaching up towards the grayish sky waiting for the rain as a young boy would be as he watches a ball falling toward him, anticipating catching it. His back is achy despite a few hours of rest. These 15 minutes of tapping on the keyboard a pleasant new exercise, for his brain if not his body. Despite the quiet of the day, the current task at hand, the single light on in the darkened house illuminating his desk he is struggling to keep his mind on the task at hand. So much work ahead of him in the next 12 or 14 hours. Shortly he will get up from this silent moment and awaken the day. Start the rushing process of making sure she is ready for the bus. A lunch to make, to approve of an outfit, breakfast to prepare, dressed warm enough for the day, the hair!, the hair is always the delay, even at a young age of 11. He marvels at how hair is a concern everyday for him despite him losing his 15 years ago. The anticipation of the craziness that is about to begin has his mind racing already, a warm cup of coffee adding to the adrenaline rush starting to kick in. He glances at the clock, 2 minutes and this quiet day will kick into overdrive very quickly. Off to the races, time to put the silence back to bed for another 24 hours.

I like that your writing cocooned you with silence at the start of the day.

She sits in the quiet. The darkness still surrounds her but she knows in time the darkness will give way to light. It always does. Oh sure, sometimes it takes its sweet time like when the cold embraces us. Days like today.

She pecks away at the keys watching stories slip out of her head. Wondering all the time how they got in there and then she remembers. She used to run to stories when life was hard, when life was scary. She ran to stories a lot.

And now she does what she has to do again. She waits. She waits to see if the test results are good for her brother. She waits to hear that the procedure went well. She waits to breathe again.

She can’t afford to lose any more people she argues. But she knows that she knows nothing compared to the one who holds the keys to life and death. She knows, but still she argues. It’s the one thing she can do. The only thing she can do.

And yet, there is this place inside her. This room that she goes to when she’s afraid. She sits there waiting and knows He will show up. And she won’t be alone. He always comes. He always sits with her when she’s afraid. Always.

He was there when she stood at her mother’s coffin at 16. There as she said goodbye to her father at 24. She was there as she revisited the cemetery again and again. Too many times to count and yet she does.

It’s easier to count the remainder. Two. There are just two left. There were five of us siblings and then Peggy was gone. Domestic violence. Brutal thief. But years in between another huge loss. And those years got her used to living. Well, kind of.

Then she saw cancer rip away one brother. Watched as it took his health day by day. Had to remind him he was dying when he’d say, “Get my coat, let’s go home.” And later he’s say, “Oh yeah, we ARE home.”

And then there was February when she sat in a hospital bed with anxiety. Something new that keeps pestering her life. Something that causes her blood pressure to spike when should flow steadily. Yes anxiety had visited her. Intruded and refused to leave.

Anxious about her one brother getting a heart procedure. Unaware another brother clutched his heart and died.

Two. There are just two of them left. And while she tries not to think about it, that thought bullies its way in her mind and pushes out all the other thoughts. No thoughts like to be bullied.

She sits quietly and as she suspected she senses His presence. And hears His voice remind her she is not alone. He’s right there beside her. Just as He promised He’d be. And He never broke one of His promises. Not one.

Anne, this line caught me: ‘She can’t afford to lose any more people she argues,’ yet not in the way that I think you intended. I guess I put myself in her place. I mentally added the word, ‘with’ at the end of that line. As if the people, or God himself, being the ones we argue, love, and struggle with are the ones who cost us the most. They are the ones that we stand to lose the most of ourselves. Like a part of us dies with each one.

I should have put a comma after the word “people.” She is arguing with God.

I wasn’t correcting you. I got what you were saying, I just liked the twist of arguing with everyone, including God and self. hugs…

Sorry, Susan. I didn’t mean for it to sound abrupt. I was actually angry at myself for not putting in the correct punctuation. I also like the twist of arguing with everyone. Thanks.

Anne, You introduced us to a lifetime of grief and loss so great that it could rip your soul apart.

And except for the fact God was in it, you’re right. And do you know what he brought out of it? Poetry.

Thank goodness that you have experienced Him — so much love !

Joe, Loved your piece. There were so many things about it that made it alive. Loved the continual thankfulness that just had to ooze out of you. Absolutely loved how you ended your piece. The piece just flowed so evenly. Actually inspired me to even sit down and take part.

Thanks Anne. 🙂

So, here he sat again in front of the screen. Open the last page of his book. Words appearing in succession, staining the whiteness with characters burping from the brain.

For some time now he was aphasic to open it, almost scared. He might have turned on, to check emails and to play solitaire, but even that reluctantly. Many, some several months old, particularly those related with writing were loitering in the list of unopened mail. There was no reason for it.

A slap of life had smashed all desires to write.

I have to commence writing again. Now! And in the same sentence: Why write? It will not contribute to be alive. Arg! Too damn trumpery and useless! Thought of impotence heaped his mind. Had a bad mood, even snappy. It took awhile for him to grind down the disappointment and in the end accept he had to live a life whatever the circumstances. The end will come soon enough.

Some days ago, he started again reading the book with an earmarked leaf, which was lying around for a while. That night, he couldn’t sleep, and for him, reading was the best somniferous. Soon, ideas invaded the spirit, and he made notes, searched words, concentrated in modisms. That night and many after, he did not sleep enough.

Bad habits were kicking in again.

But there was a difference. He realised, just today, a big difference. Before, when his wife asked what he was doing, the answer had been: Working! Nowadays he says, Writing!

What a difference a misfortune makes!

Misfortune? Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? He remembered the old Chinese saying.

The energy is back with vigour. Carelessly ignoring the numbness his backside and the urge of nature. Barely walking to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He has to prepare it. It takes too long. Better, some water, he decides and is back to the frantic clicking on the keyboard in one corner of his bedroom. The music plays away. It’s cold. His heart has, though, been warm and palpitating to the rhythm of the script.

Hey! Of that, life is all about!

I love what you wrote….a bit of mischief is getting ready to happen, I think…..

Here is what I wrote for 15 minutes:

She sits at the desk in front of the laptop almost everyday. But nothing comes to her mind. There is too much going on around her – even the dog and cat prevent her concentrating on what she needs to say – what she must say. There is a story inside her somewhere. But she has no time to dwell on its location, to find out where in the body or mind such a story could be. She is a writer. She has always been a writer, even if she rarely puts pen to paper. She has been a writer since she was very young, sitting on the back porch on a hot summer day with nothing but chores to do.

She used to wonder about eternity. The concept of eternity was troubling her when she was only eight or nine years old. Sitting on that back porch in the heat of the summer in Dallas, wondering about eternity. She would imagine the world never, ever ending, like the nuns told her classmates and her, but somehow she could not get a true connection. What would eternity look like, she wondered, forgetting that she was only in the third grade…what could it be like?

Well, it had to be better than just sitting on the back porch, waiting for her mom or dad to come yell at her for not doing anything. They had small patience for little girls, especially for her, since she was the eldest girl in the family and should be helping her mother to care for the younger kids. Man, what a life for a kid! But that is what an adult would have thought, had an adult been sitting on the porch with her, sharing those eternal thoughts. Kids had not much of a past, so they had little to refer to. Still, she knew that whenever there was not much work to do, the little kids were asleep, and she had finished her homework (funny that she could not remember doing homework, for the most part!), she ought to have a bit of time for herself. Time to swing on the swing set before her dad opened the screen door and hollered for her to get her butt inside and do more work.

Little did she know, however, what lay ahead. And that was definitely a good thing. A damned good thing. Because if she had known even a little bit, she might have found the courage in her heart to take a short cut while walking home from school and end up elsewhere.

Funny because I’m listening to Above and Below, which seems to go along with this.

Where would I find “Above and Below”? I am a newbie here. Thank you for your comments.

It’s by The Bravery and there is a moon version and a sun version. Youtube has both.

The murky shape of a fish torpedoes through her peripheral vision and is swallowed by the clouded lake waters. She cranes her neck in its direction, hair following suit in a dull golden cloud and coming to rest in front of her eyes. Her back arches as she kicks deeper where pressure begins to replace sunlight and the sandy bottom full of discarded clam shells beckons as a silent refuge. Her elbows come to rest against the gritty surface as she releases her air from its chambers, watching it flee to the surface in a shimmering cloud of light. She could beat it if she wanted to; kick up from the bottom and satisfy the dull ache in her chest, but she doesn’t want to. Not yet anyways. She closes her eyes and the water seems to disappear, swaying around her with the same heat which runs in her veins, melting itself against her skin until the two are indistinguishable. She could lie here forever, in her secret, dim world. But it isn’t hers. Her lungs tighten to remind her that hers is up there, into the sun which shines so far away from this place. She jumps off the her throne of sand, rising into the surface.

You must know something about diving. I would not have been able to create this scenario without having been underwater myself. Good job !

Thank you, It’s one of my favorite pastimes and I bought my first monofin last summer.

She wakes reluctantly, feeling him stir by her side. The familiar feeling of heaviness returns as the reality of their life now seeps into her consciousness through the last wisps of sleep. Further rest will elude her now. Should she get up and try to use the time when he is asleep to do some writing? She is bone tired, but she knows there will be little chance for time alone later in the day. She turns to watch him sleeping and thinks of other Saturdays when he would be first to wake, always active, vital. Perhaps after some leisurely lovemaking he would return to her with a cup of tea and her favourite – hot buttered toast with marmalade. Then off to get the paper, maybe stop for coffee on the way. Now he can’t get out of bed by himself anymore or pee alone. This horrible disease is taking its time to kill him. She watches his dear face, at peace in merciful sleep for a while. She is sad but angry too. Maybe she will get up and write, despite her weariness.

While I have no really experience of what this is like your writing doesn’t use such fancy words that make it seem like a show. Yours seems real, but still showing how you feel underneath the words. I like it.

She stood at her computer, wishing she could feel comfortable in her own body. The room is lit with natural light and her husband is listening to the book Wise Blood on AudioBooks. She needs to jump start her energy, needs to get her blood moving. The calendar tells her it really isn’t good day to do anything, unless it is to work on her own set of personal challenges – releasing her bad habits, for god’s sake.

How does one work on one’s bad habits, she wonders. They are there, the patterns of behaviors. She circles around them and then gives in to nap. It is like earlier this week when her calendar asked her to retrieve her soul. Retrieve her soul? That is a long process, but she tried. She went through every memory she had – sitting on the front porch when scarcely older than a toddler, wondering what is infinity. Come here, little girl, she entreated. She remembered the last time she wet her pants after they stopped letting her wear diapers; squatting under a shrub, being amazed there was no diaper to catch it. Come back to me, she asked. Playing in her sandbox, riding her bike for the first time, climbing a skinny tree to get away from either a small snake or a big worm. Come back to this big empty spot in me, she asked. The memories of her life flooded her and with each memory, she invited herself home. Some of the memories weren’t so good and she hadn’t behaved admirably. She invited that girl back too. Get them all here, retrieve them, she told herself. Before long, all the retrieved people she could ever remember being gathered in her solar plexus and built a bonfire. They raked the coals around. This made her nervous. She wanted to fill that hole, not burn a bigger one. Oh well, all those soul pieces were in charge of this, not her. Just let it happen and she did.

Is she more whole now? More of one cloth? Who knows. There is an ache in her left back side. She feels full, lethargic. What are her bad habits? Is procrastination really that bad or is it her creative process? Certainly eating potato chips, her new vice since quitting gluten, could be something she skipped today.

Her husband stops listening to his story and comes over to the computer and wants to talk about the parade Saturday and had she told her youngest granddaughter they were staying in town, so now they could all go to it. Leave me alone, she finally explodes. Just 15 minutes, that is all I want. 15 minutes to write this exercise. And it is done. He goes away and the 15 minutes are gone.

Sorry for posting so late on this. I loved the exercise! I did it a day late and then my internet was down for an entire day. Finally this morning, I have internet!

She sits, reclined on the couch, trying to escape reality for the umpteenth time that week. Not that it’s been a hard week, or that she doesn’t love her life or anything, she’s actually enjoying life; she just likes to pretend it’s different sometimes. She picks up the book on the table and shimmies down into a position that says, “leave me alone. I’m reading.” A frown crosses her face as she struggles to drown out the sounds of her five younger siblings and piano-playing dad by immersing herself into a different world.

Later she will probably try to drain her emotions through writing, allowing the paper of her beloved notebook to carry some of the burdens weighing on her heart. Typical teenager burdens: love, hate, wonder, and longing. Regret too. And Nostalgia. All of these mixed up feelings trapped inside her will flow out onto the blank pages in inky words that will somehow sooth everything. She’d like to think she was unique, but she has the same problems as every other teenage girl. And then some.

Left to her own mind is much too dangerous these days. It’s a trap that ensnares her at her weakest times when she’s alone. Which is most of the time. There are certain people who help her though, and she’s seen them all this week. The greenish grey eyes of her best friend. The grey ones of her beloved music teacher. These are the people who put a little bit of light into her dark mind and draw her back into reality: the good reality. They keep her safe from the trap her mind has set for itself and remind her that love is a very big part of life. Not being loved necessarily, but loving. Being the one TO love is what matters most and it makes all the difference.

She lays with her knees up, covered in three army surplus wool blankets and an old, yellow stained feather blanket she’d known for years, though it wasn’t hers. Her bed, which takes up most of the room, is on the floor, the bare dirty white walls sometimes remind her of one of those old, padded asylum rooms. The kind that don’t exist anymore. And while that might have once really bothered her, even scared her, it amuses her now.

The room sits in the back half of the “house,” which is actually an old trailer, half of one, where they used to hang the plants to dry. The front half of the house is wooden, with wooden walls and floor and a high ceiling. Behind her, cold air comes up through the cracks between the wall and the chipping lanoleum floor. Last night, she had made a feeble attempt to remedy this with another rolled up wool blanket, but then figured out that a sheepskin did the trick.

It’s her idea of luxury. She’d been sleeping on the floor for years, with intermittent mattresses here and there, but she preferrs the floor. Maybe it’s just that it reminds her of the last place she called home, where they slept on the floor, and ate meals together in a circle around a fire or a woodstove. Where things made sense.

The house is finally quiet. It’s her favorite time, when she doesn’t feel the pull of anyone. Somewhere inside of her, the tug of an impending decision making time. She has no idea where to go from here. This little room, which for some reason she can remember seeing for the first time three years ago, when it was filled with April’s willow baskets and craft making materials, is starting to feel like hers. Even the weather seems to be comforting her here all of a sudden.

Fall in Northern California is strange for her, someone who has never missed a real winter. It’s sunny and warm, and her body kept expecting the change. Something, anything to signal that it was this time of year, and not another. But it never came here, and it felt like she was somehow stuck in time. The wintery slant of the sun was strange in the heat. Finally it changed.

This morning she sat outside on the porch, the sun just barely coming over the horizon but nowhere near her, those huge, intimidating redwoods stood in the east and shaded everything. Her afternoon cigarettes were the time where she could find a tiny patch of sun. this morning the wind howled, and she put on a wool hat and wool shirts and felt the crispness, and imagined brown leaves falling. She had never been so happy for a brisk morning chill. And wind, actual wind, blowing a fall hello. Her body swayed with it as she smoked her cigarette and the smoke didn’t matter. She didn’t want to smoke with all this weather calling .

She needs to get back to that piece, due tomorrow morning. She hears Susan sneeze in the other room, and Chris beside her shifts. They whisper to each other, and then go silent. She hears the hot water heater, and feels at home.

I like the phrase about her room – “where things made sense”.

Her childhood was a happy one, filled with pine forests and pussy willows, shading trees and deep shadows, bright sunlight and fairies. Her mind was a blessed country where music filled the air and magical creatures were waiting with secret smiles around every corner, offering new adventures. A little sister was a ready and willing companion in her exciting fairy world.

As she grew, reality pressed in with dawning dismay. Too late, she discovered that her childhood world had been one of the imagination, and in the business of growing up the door grew narrower until it closed altogether. The only way she could alleviate the anguish was to write – anything and everything.

Her one delight in the agonizing world of puberty became a pure white sheet of paper before her, and a pen poised in readiness. It was only then that her soul could be at ease.

With her teenage years came the realization that she must find an identity for herself, or perish, and that involved searching with every bit of strength she possessed.

The search lasted for many years, tumultuous, exhausting and filled with some bitter sorrows and some unspeakable joys, but the search bore fruit. She discovered who she was at last!

Outside her office window the sun is blazing. The temperature is frigid, below freezing. Her garden appears shocked, the plants struggling to breathe outside of their designated zone. Whoever decides what will thrive through winters in the Pacific Northwest probably didn’t have a day like today in mind.

The sun is a mixed blessing for her. In her chest she wants to run outside, through her arms open wide and hug those rays for the weather forecast indicates the usual gray clouds will return in just a few days. Yet, she looks at her desk. A half-done presentation awaits, due on Monday. Follow-up with a creative team on her new website is tugging at her “let’s play inside” persona. And then there’s the prospect of a trip to Costco to get the wreath, the garland … the overdue beginnings of the whole holiday decoration process. In the next room her husband lingers over the New York Times. They only subscribe to the Sunday edition so she looks forward to that leisurely read every week (and, she just learned, having something to look forward to can increase your personal baseline for happiness).

Happiness, she decides, shows up physically today. Sun rays streaming through the window. A second cup of coffee resting on her desk. The prospect of unpacking the Christmas decorations makes her smile inside. Finding a place for the crystal snowman, the mantletop garland, the collection of German smokers – a yearly ritual that signals the holidays have arrived, along with that endless of to-do’s that never quite get done.

WOW ! I love especially the image of the sun streaming through the windows. And yes, we have the have just the perfect place for each Christmas item, don’t we? I wish I could read more !!

First job on a dark winter morning: tending fire. The fires of evening languish after midnight and leave the big house chilled in this snow country. She is the designated early riser.

She stirs hot ash to wake red coals, then adds wood scraps that in a moment will blossom into flame. Coffee goes on while she waits. Once the fires start up again she adds firewood, small and then larger pieces. When they catch she damps the flow of oxygen back down for a slow burn. The fireplace in the family area is first, followed by the wood stove in the entry way. Family first.

A glance outside the window answers the pivotal question: is it falling, blowing snow today, or are bright snow fields already dimly visible down the hill? Her favorite is dry snow that glitters under the sun. It’s like a field of cool white velvet thickly strew with tiny opal chips.

Maybe this will be that kind of day. Warmly dressed now, she does a few minutes of yoga while the others stir and wake. An hour before dawn, with the sounds of day rising and the first cup of coffee in hand, she sees a small herd of deer cross the field below. They are graceful dark silhouettes in the dusky blue. As a small child she once cried for wild things outside in the snow, at the unfairness of it all, and sometimes she still wonders how they manage. Often, she knows, they don’t. Perhaps that germinal sense of fairness has wandered over time. Perhaps it’s merely been polished by emery grains of experience.

These deer, though, seem lively and inquisitive, at ease in their travels today, unperturbed by human habitation near by. Her kitchen is warm, bright, and yellow, and there’s a day of writing ahead.

Jealous of that morning routine! Maybe I wouldn’t be over time, but it sounds like such a perfect way to ease into the day: a little work to get a fire going. Some exercise. Then recollection.

Thanks, Brett. I’m a little conflicted about it, though. Having read some of the stunning entries here (plus almost all of Glimmer Train Issue #89, which to my mind has kind of a bleak feel) this little practice piece seems “fluffy” in comparison. I’ve taken it aside to give it more than 15 minutes. Notwithstanding my encultured training to convert lemons to lemonade, the hand of a darker angel rests on this character’s shoulder. It deserves observation. These prompts are great practice, but I think practice only works for us to the depth we actually dive.

It’s 5:49am and about 39 minutes behind schedule. My coffee never seems to be as warm as I want it to be. By the time I top it off and sit back down, it feels like it needs to be nuked.

The Bible and journal next to me, open to Isaiah. It’s mostly confusing to me right now, but slowly meaning pops out. My car journal is to my right. It’s a little spiral bound notebook that I keep in the car while I listen to podcasts. Texting and driving is unsafe, but I hope note taking on the center console isn’t. The laptop is open between them.

The lights are off and I’m typing in the dark. This space between 5:30am and 6:00am is tricky in our house. One of my children, were I asleep, would wake and crawl into the big king bed between my wife and me. But since I’m up, he might hear me and come downstairs for some attention.

I’m selfish. At least, I try to be selfish prior to 6:00am, or 6:15 if I play my cards right.

Across the dining room table is a my belt, my t-shirt, a children’s Bible, and a couple spiral notebooks that the kids like to write in. Plush green and white candy canes barely visible, are hanging in the dark underneath the light fixture.

I know the condensation is puddling around my water glass. This is my second day trying to write first. 500 words daily before I do anything else. I should probably get an earlier start and take a walk or do some stretching. It always seems I’m much more inspired after some early exercise. My brain seems to function. I’m using this prompt from deep in my Gmail because the cupboard was bare. And writing as a discipline, apparently, is tough the first couple mornings especially since I don’t have a clear end game. The last thing I want to do is write for work. And I’m not excited to write for my personal blog that centers around living a simpler life. And the blog on the url for my name has been in technical difficulty for over a year.

Consequently, I’m on Evernote practicing.

It’s 5:49am and about 39 minutes behind schedule. His coffee never seems to be as warm as he wants it to be. By the time he tops it off and sits back down, it feels like it needs to be nuked.

To his left is the journal open stacked inside the Bible, also open, opened to Isaiah. That ancient book is mostly confusing to him right now, but slowly meaning pops out. His car journal is to his right. It’s a little spiral bound notebook that he keeps in the car while he listens to podcasts. Texting and driving is unsafe, but he hopes note taking on the center console isn’t. The laptop is open between the two books of records.

The lights are off and he’s typing in the dark. This space between 5:30am and 6:00am is tricky in their house. One of his children, were he asleep, would wake and crawl into the big king bed between his wife and him. But since he’s up, his young son might hear him and come downstairs for some attention.

He’s selfish. At least, he tries to be selfish prior to 6:00am, or 6:15 if he plays his cards right.

Across the dining room table is a his belt, my t-shirt, a children’s Bible, and a couple spiral notebooks that the kids like to write in. Plush green and white candy canes barely visible, are hanging in the dark underneath the light fixture.

He knows the condensation is puddling around his water glass. This is his second day trying to write first. 500 words daily before he does anything else. He should probably get an earlier start and take a walk or do some stretching. He always feels much more inspired after some early exercise. His brain seems to function better. He’s using this prompt from deep in his Gmail because his idea cupboard was bare. And writing as a discipline, apparently, is tough the first couple mornings especially since he doesn’t have a clear endgame. The last thing he wants to do is write for work and his insurance blog. And he’s not excited to write for his blog that centers around living a simpler life. And the blog on the url for his name has been in confounding technical difficulty for over a year, so that’s not an option.

Consequently, he’s on Evernote practicing.

The coffee part was funny. Towards the end you wrote me instead of he. Also I did not like the last paragraph as much of the rest of the story. Maybe there are too many details in it. I’m not sure. The writing overall is good and I can feel the balance between being dutiful to the family and also having a special time to do one’s own work. And the grappling with is it selfish to hope the boy stays asleep a little longer.

He knows the condensation is puddling around his water glass. I think it would be better to say: Condensation is puddling around his glasses. He knows feels like it slows it down to me.

He wants to be a writer. He knows wanting to be a writer is not the same as being a writer. He sits in front of the laptop every morning before the birds have begun singing, before the sense of duty comes alive to distract him. But he always ends up posting, commenting, arguing.. on the facebook, anything to avoid actually writing. His other hobby is reading. He reads everything, with no discrimination. His childhood heroes were not cricket players or action heroes, but writers. While his friends admired Amithabh Bachan and Kapil Dev, he worshipped R K Narayan and Arthur Conan Doyle. In his dreams, he saw himself publishing Sherlock Holmes stories. But he could never convert these dreams to reality.

The moment he cherished most from his childhood was when he won a writing competition inschool. More than the prize itself, what he remembered was the praise he got from a famous writer, a judge for the competition. Yet he could not write.

Recently, he suffered a mental break down. It dawned on him that he wa 40, he had passed the prime of life, perhaps crossed the half way mark. He realized with surprise that he could not recapture time, recreate the past, that he was locked in a day time job that he loathed, that he was also shackled by the sense of duty from which thete may not be any escape.

very moving, and throughout I could sense the struggle and the longing to be formed and changed (thinking of a caterpillar/butterfly) seeing what you know you need to be, but also feeling not there yet. And then the sad realization of not being able to go back in time was a good ending paragraph.

All around her, the air was still. Not just still, but paused, muffled. All the world seemed to be put on mute. It was probably because of the snow outside, padding the roads and the sidewalks with white fluff. She didn’t mind- the quiet was a nice break from the noise and the cluttered mess. She sits beside the window this morning, curled up into a tight ball underneath a patchwork quilt, in a too-large chair. The heater is blowing out warm air besides her, and she can’t help but be a little reassured at the gentle hum of it running. Not that she needed it- her dachshund was curled up in the crook of her legs, acting like the miniature space heater she was. She couldn’t sit there forever, she knew. As she typed, the list of things she needed to do pressed on the front of her mind with continuing urgency, barrating her with a buzz of reminders and loose ends. But a little time for herself couldn’t hurt, could it? A thin strand dangled in front of her eye, and she blew it aside in mock irritation. Maybe this wasn’t the best time for this. Maybe this was just her way of procrastinating while she had real work to be done. That was very probable, and very like her. She knew there were real things to do, things that had to do with nasty words like ‘school’ and ‘chores’, but for the moment she was fine with brushing them off with a flick of her wrist and delving deep into her writing.

good job using the five senses so someone can really feel your environment. That makes it cozy. And even though there is a lot of stuff that the writer knows will have to get done, you could feel how she was still very immersed in her writing, and not getting overly stressed by it.

She sits at a funny little place – too small for a window seat, too large for a windowsill. Her cheeks press against the cool dampness of the glass, her fingers curled into the nails which she had been painting a few hours ago. It was the holidays – she should be relaxing, why was she agitated anyway? There wasn’t any homework assigned anyway. Her family ignore her and her own little ramblings, they only treat her ponderings and opinions as ‘teenagerdom’ and something ‘bound to change when she grows up’. They’re too busy in front of the television, intent on ‘The Wizard of Oz’, unaware of the clock ticking on the wall, that the children they have in their arms will eventually be doing the same. Perhaps it is only her who can glimpse into such thoughts. Perhaps it’s due to how she is in that time in adolescence when you know that you’re going to grow up, and that you’re nervous about what it will bring. Perhaps… She slides off the seat, and plops onto the sofa. Her younger sibling comes to her lap, bringing the scent of warm milk and love, something which will outlast all time. She smiles. Love, which can outlast all time.

yes. I like this. The writing is good, it doesn’t have unnecessary words. And also I like how you go into the feeling of fear of growing up and leaving what is known and people loved.

He, sits. He thinks. He ruminates. What is he doing with his life? Come Jan 24, 2014 and he would be completing 23 years of existence on planet Earth. But what has been accomplished so far? A bachelors degree, a film school diploma and now on his way to gain his Masters in Marketing and still he doesn’t feel very accomplished with himself. Still leaving at home, feeding of Dad’s income with absolutely no work experience as such, was he worth anything?

The fact that the girl he really had a thing for not only rejected his romantic advances but went on to say that “I will never like you” didn’t help his cause. He needed to find his ‘eureka’ moment where he finds the true purpose of his life. Maybe it lies in the world of words. Maybe that’s why his heart always kept tugging at this direction but he was too lazy to sit and let the words flow. Maybe it’s time for him to realise that there is no point in trying to rush and see what his future is going to turn out like. Live life and Just let it be.

I could really relate to this and the feeling of not yet being there, at that place where one wants to end up.

The blue chair was her throne, her childhood home her castle. Right now, just for right now, there were no doors opening and closing. No pounding on the stairs as parents and/or a brother made their way to the second floor. Not even the hum of the dishwasher or the thump of the washing machine intruded into her time.

All she heard was silence. That blissful, marvelous silence that came from just being. Not doing or crying or wondering or worrying. Just being.

For these few minutes, she could pretend. Pretend that it hadn’t been almost a year since she had to move back home. Pretend and remember what it was like to live in her own space, among her own things, free to think her own thoughts or even to dance in the kitchen with no one watching. If she wanted to, she could even watch an entire episode of “Glee” without any eye rolls or scoffs thrown her way. Or questions. She was so relieved, really, to have this time without questions about how had her day been, and who did she eat lunch with, and why did she like this show or that so much, and had she heard from so-and-so lately?

Not even the temptation of having the family TV all to herself was enough to pull her away from her words. The words were there, always waiting. She just had to sit still long enough to see them. To feel them, run her hands over them, testing their strengths, their weaknesses.

She wasn’t always sure of what she was writing, or why she was. “Writers write to be read,” she remembers telling a friend, many moons ago. But somewhere along the way, she stopped. The writing fizzled, save for a sporadic blog post here and there. She didn’t remember when, exactly, but she had lost herself, and was always, always in search of the She she used to be.

The blue chair didn’t have any answers. Neither did the blue walls, or the red mantle. My mother is a colorful woman, she thought. The fake greenery arranged artfully around the room also offered no secrets, no clue to the person she was looking for.

So she ignored them all — the reds, the greens, the blues — and leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The searching could wait another moment. For now, there was just being.

This was really intriguing and interesting to me.

Love the opening line

Life is complicated for her, if not physically, then on the inside. Between work stress, school priorities, and guys, she doesn’t always make time just to talk to God, and often suffers for it. She struggles with finding her identity. Her family is always supportive and loving, and that gives her strength and hope.

She is inside now. She wishes she were drinking coffee but she thinks it a waste of time to make some for just a few spare minutes of writing. She loves the outdoors though. She also loves people. Everyone coming from different places with different ideas, many she had never thought of. She loves how life changes. But she is starting to realize somedays things don’t seem to change. At least not for her, not always. Someone told her once life doesn’t hand us a new lesson until we first master the one given. Perhaps she was stuck on something. But perhaps she just expected too much from the universe.

Her garden is being eaten away by bugs, and she has been working to get ahead of it. And even though she had gotten the bugs under control, the plants look damaged and many have died. Can the plants catch up and be in time for the harvest time, she wonders.

This one is actually quite, quite mad, but I’m literally just writing the first things that come to me on these prompts!

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22, single, Bristol! Straight up social construct looking for love. Seeking the sort of love that can be conceived of as a ‘lagoon’ or ‘oasis’. Enjoys music and gambling, always up for a PARTYYY! Young displaced whisper floating among suburban streets. Massive Kanye fan, second biggest hero probably Messi!! Youthful fun-lover carried invisibly by a discourse I can’t remember. Travelling, traveller forever <3 .

he was lying in bed. another day is over.every night it occurs to him that he hadn’t been giving much attention to the the passing of days, to opportunities he missed. but then he admits that counting them wouldn’t really make a difference. you’d think it will end there and he’d go to sleep now, but it never does, because he always needs to do something about it or at least think about doing something about it. why is it that he never feels satisfied at the end of the day? may be because he’s not doing something he likes, may be because he is not doing anything, or may be because it doesn’t matter what he does as long as it is HE who’s doing it. he’s not dissatisfied with life, he’s dissatisfied with being.

three body in the small dim room- two sleeping. one sits cross-legged, her fingers tucked in around the cover of her small neon notebook. her eyes constantly gaze around the object that surrounds her and for a second she wondered why she loves to write in the dark so much when there’s plenty damn lights in the daytime. her heavy eyes darts to her brother’s sleeping figure, his snore low and she always find it funny in some way; maybe because she could tease him about it later and she always wonders about her sister’s eyes when she sleep; they’re never fully closed and she still think about it at some point. suddenly, her hand pauses and she took a short breathe, reciting what she had just wrote in a careful whisper. it’s almost three in the morning. she felt a familiar feeling of wishing she could just drift away to her beauty sleep haunts her every night, though she could never come close to stop thinking about so much things.

Sunlight gently streams into her room, caressing her face. Her eyes flutter open; another day has begun. She carefully selects the outfit she will wear; the dress must match her shoes while the earrings must offset the color of her hair. Everything must look perfect because in reality nothing really is.As she carefully applies her make-up she notices tears glistening in her eyes. She smiles weakly and although her eyes shine with life, the lace of death within them is unmissable. Try as she might she cannot hide the pain that is always with her.

She tries to remember a time when laughter was her life’s song, and hope was her constant companion. A time when she had a spring in her step, a trunk full of dreams and a heart bursting with love. Reality intrudes on her wistful musings and she remembers she must get to work. She carefully tucks away the pain and meticulously hides her bleeding heart, and once the burden of loss is tightly secured on her back, makes her way to work.

‘laughter was her life’s song’- beautiful

He sits on his computer all day his mum says, wondering out his window, what is actually out there? look, whats that and whats that? it looks like a rock falling from the sky in the distance burning with fumes of smoke, the rock is the same size as Africa I heard on the news, it was cooling but they say it could cause collateral damage on a major scale, like one we’ve never seen before, this is the end call it judgement day, the end of days, the second coming. I didn’t care for that one moment I knew what to do with my life…

“Wake up, you lazy mongrel! Time for school!”

Those blaring words, coupled with a rigorous jolt made against her shoulder, ends her long sleep nestled with a dream. It seems to her that her mind stiffens as still as a frozen figure before it adjusts to reality. In other words, the brain waves take a long while to recognize what is happening now.

Slowly, eyes half-closed and struggling with her depleted energy, she reaches out for the alarm clock which is situated on her bedside table. It is now six o’clock in the morning, when she realizes it is fifteen minutes too late to get up. A thought dawns on her: must she go back to sleep or head for school? With a quick burst of energy, she dashes off for a good bath and after ten minutes, emerges from the bathroom all wet, with a wrapped towel on her wet hair and another covering her naked body. Without further hesitation, she dresses into her school uniform and stamps out of her room with her bag in tow.

While having a breakfast with her family, her thoughts are on her assignments, which are almost complete at that moment. She leaves very little time to ponder on her dreams as doing this would waste precious time. Having finished with all the usual preparations, she skips off outside.

He shows up to job that moved him across country, that he was unsure of. He graduated from school July 2011, and didn’t get a call from a company until January 2014. He wasn’t sure if it was the right decision. He believes the move part was right but the job, the job is boring and doesn’t challenge him like his last. Their is a lot more down time and sitting around. He often jokes with is coworkers he has watched more tv the past year and a half than he has in the previous five combined. He doesn’t know what to do. He went to school to work on planes, but he doesn’t like it. It is not what he expected. Coming on to the age of 30 what does he do? Does he stay in this career path or find another? He doesn’t have any special skills or hobbies to make a career out of. He kind of misses his old way of life. Doing electrical wasn’t so bad always busy at work, did not have to work second shift and sit around until 2-230 am while his supervisor fucks around on the internet, just because.

His old boss knew how to take care of his men. He would buy a few thirty racks for the guys every week, sometimes twice depending on how thirsty we were that week. Occasionally he would takes us out to dinner. It was a fun environment to work at. Its funny how things work he tries to better himself and make himself happier but all he has done is made him more frustrated. He is a city 850 miles away from his friends and family. He has a smaller social group. He loves the city of Chicago and is glad he made the move. Because it’s a fun city and always something to do. And if he didn’t take this risk, he could look back at his life 10 years from now regretting he never took this risk.

On the sofa laptop in place cats at his feet yearning for touch

Warm summer night air invited in through fully opened windows cars speed past passersby talk in swift whispered tones

He finds words to add to a new poem some fall from his fingertips with ease others drop haltingly fishing for the right word in this first draft

like he usually does uncertain where he’s going fear to share to much, not enough thinking, thinking of the point

of why his writing this poem words battle in his mind for recognition to be chosen

to show the feeling he’s trying to capture with words on a laptop in place cats at his feet yearning for touch

He stops and strokes them they need him now

She’s sitting on a bed with a mac on her laps. Her toes are freezing even though she’s on a tropical island with the ocean in a safe distance hiding in the dark, frogs quietly perfecting their tunes, and the wind coming in and out of a little house without using the door.

Solitude. Silence. Nature. Time. She has almost everything a writer could be dreaming of.

Has she written much since she came here about a year ago? A few Facebook posts. Three probably. No. Four.

In her defense, she’s just recently discovered that ‘morning pages’ or the stream of consciousness that helps get rid of what’s obstructing the writing and is intended to be kept private just like a diary does not count as actual writing. Who knew?!

Plus she was busy with work. The work she loves. And can conveniently hide behind.

And often times it just felt pointless. Someone else surely wrote about the things she wanted to write already. Or will write about it very soon. And better than her.

And doesn’t she need to learn more, understand more, become more, better, enough to write the book she wants?

She also had to finish reading yet another book about creativity, sincerely wishing it was longer. Or endless. And read more about writing. And how all the above and below should be solved by a simple motion of typing word after word, sentence after sentence, otherwise known as writing.

This evening all she wanted to do was write. But then she had to find the log-in details (that haven’t been used for two years) to the unfinished online course on how to create a blog that makes a difference. And think about a perfect topic. And a WordPress theme. Just to kill that urge to write. Something. NOW. Nobody would read that blog anyway with the plentitude of brilliant ones out there to choose from.

Maybe she’s not that passionate about writing after all. She could definitely survive without it. She could keep updating the list of things she wants to write about and share, and keep exploding about not doing that on those private pages that will never be shared.

She would survive. But would she thrive? Another year might be given for her to find out.

She puts her headphones in as she types away on her laptop. The music drowns out her problems and the writing washes away her pain. A cold cup of coffee sits beside her, but it’s been long forgotten as she absorbs herself in the lyrics that were made to speak to her hurting ears. She imagines the life of her characters and fantasizes about slipping into her precious books and never coming back to reality.

The messy kitchen that surrounds her is suffocating and she thinks of just walking out of the house and starting a new life somewhere else. Her mind is in a million and three places all at once. Right now, all her mind is filled with is the fantasies of her dreams and the music that calms her soul.

Her frizzy, curly, brown hair is in a messy bun and her brown eyes sparkle with inspiration. Her mind has doubts about society finding her pretty and talented, but the writer in her has a different personality and she has a confidence in her that only comes through in her writing.

As she sits in school, her headphones have been banned and the only writing she does is equations and the answers to problems that are not her own. She watches the other people and envies their happiness. Everyday’s a struggle not to snap under the pressure of having straight A’s and expectations that her shoes are too small to fill. Day to day this is the same feeling, the same agony.

Someone changes her though. When she’s around this person, the pain fades and not a keyboard in sight, her problems are forgotten and the headphones she so often turns to are abandoned as she embraces this person. True happiness can be seen in her eyes, but of course this is just another fantasy that will fade as quickly as the door is shut and she once again is left in the messy kitchen with her writing and headphones.

She always has a smile on her face. Sometimes it’s real and sometimes it’s not. The truth is that, deep inside, she’s a warrior. Her head is a battelfield. One might think she’s always optimistic, like her life is a musical where a happy tune is playing in the background. But no. She’s constantly at war with her mind, struggling with keeping her innocence intact. She likes to think of the world as an ocean. But she’s not fooled by it’s beauty. She knows very well that the ocean isn’t such a scary place if one’s solely observing it from the shore. She knows she’s not brave enough, not strong enough. She knows she can’t dive in, even in her wildest dreams. So she lays there, on the burning sand, watching the sunset, thinking about love, as if she were in a fairytale. Thinking about reality terrifies her. Thinking that there’s a world out there where only few know happiness makes her want to stay forever in her little happy place where people desperately get out of the ocean looking for someone to make them see the good in the world again. And the fact that she hopes to be that someone, for any stranger who’s struggling with life, makes her who she is. And that’s why she makes it a point to put a smile on her face and laugh, no matter what war she’s in.

A very real scenario a lot of us will identify with

She always has a smile on her face. Sometimes it’s real and sometimes it’s not. The truth is that, deep inside, she’s a warrior. Her mind is a battlefield. One might think she’s always optimistic, like her life is a musical where a happy tune is playing in the background. But no. She’s constantly at war with herself, struggling with keeping her innocence intact. She likes to think of the world as an ocean. But she’s not fooled by its beauty. She knows very well that the ocean isn’t such a scary place if one’s solely observing it from the shore. She knows she’s not brave enough, not strong enough. She knows she can’t dive in, even in her wildest dreams. So she lays there, on the burning sand, watching the sunset, thinking about love, as if she were in a fairytale. Thinking about reality terrifies her. Thinking that there’s a world out there where only few know happiness makes her want to stay forever in her little happy place where people desperately get out of the ocean looking for someone to make them see the good in the world again. And the fact that she hopes to be that someone, for any stranger who’s struggling with life, makes her who she is. And that’s why she makes it a point to put a smile on her face and laugh, no matter what war she’s in.

He sat staring in to the laptop screen. It’s dull light painting his face a subtle shade of cyan. Was it dull though? Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the afternoon sun streaming its heat in through the three wide windows behind him, in his bedroom, was just too bright. Everything was relative. None of it constant. He realized as his fingers, now slightly oily with sweat, drew circles on the touchpad and traced the edges of the black ‘accutype’ keys. Sweat was trickling down his forehead too, forming droplets on his thick eyebrows, dampening them and blurring his vision. He didn’t wipe them off with the handy towel he kept nearby, as was his custom. Let the heat burn this sickly feeling inside of me, he thought.

He couldn’t think of any other way to get rid of the feeling. What had he done? He had said his good byes to her. That’s what he had done. That’s what he had accomplished with his morning. Ended something that had kept him human and alive for a year. He had destroyed something he might have on this very day, in the previous year, sworn to keep true forever. Why had he done it? The flurry of strong, sharp, pointed reasons that had left his quiver of logic and pierced the bond that tied them together, seemed flaccid now. Strangely impotent. Was he happy now? He could tell that if only he could feel his heart. It had gone silent, and numb.

The blinking cursor on the white screen gave him no comfort. Write! His head screamed at him breaking the silence. Write something! Let it out!

What would he write about? Every word seemed to form around her, framing themselves around her face and her smile.

Find something else to write about.

Look it up. Find a prompt. He finally moves and the fingers that were caressing the plastic keys before him, began to press them with vague intent taking shape in him. Find a prompt, he thought, wiping the droplets of sweat hanging from his brow, and trickling down his face. Let it out…

She keeps biting her nails. And she doesn’t know why she just cant quit this disgusting habit. Disgusting. Do you really write it like that? She doesn’t remember. Its already 5oclock in the afternoon and she still is in her pjamas, too lazy to even get off the couch and get a glass of water, she is much too comfortable. She feels ok, but the rainy day outside makes it hard for her not to think about negative things, like her break up and the fact that she hasn’t written for such a long time. She even forgot how to use the keyboard properly. Why did she quit? Was it because of him? Maybe he wasn’t encouraging enough? Too full of himself as a writer? That he made her feel like she isn’t good enough? No. He did a lot of things wrong, but not this. It all comes to herself and her lack of self confidence. What happened now? What changed? She did. She is herself again, because it all depends on her. How she feels, how she behaves, how she speaks. Its kind of like karma. What goes around comes around. She hates cliches, but its true. If you don’t love yourself, who will love you truely in the end of the day? If you don’t believe in the story you are telling, how can you expect others to fully believe it?

She is too lazy for everything, or maybe not lazy but too scared. Scared of trying, scared of losing, of disappointment. Maybe thats why she keeps biting her nails, doesn’t even try to quit it, because she knows that she will not be strong enough and start it again anyway. But you know what they say, if you don’t try you will always wonder why. Another cliche. But thats why right now she is writing, because she doesn’t want to be the one to not even try. Who knows, maybe putting her fingers on top of the keyboard instead of in her mouth, might even help her to overcome that disgusting habit. She still doesn’t remember how you write that word, and she is still too lazy to look it up.

He sits in a dimly lit room, typing on a dimly lit laptop. He is lost in himself and lost in the world. He finds himself lost in a maze he doesn’t understand the dimension of. Up is darkness and left is melancholy. But he still types.

He has always been numb. He has always been detached. He was ok with how it was before. He is a thinker. Once a problem presents itself he decides right then whether to pursue it or to wipe it from his consciousness. But he knows he can’t wipe The Question away.

The Question is why he has always read. He hopes to find a glimpse of an answer. He doesn’t have any other choice. Someone else must have had The Question before. Therefore, there must be instructions or directions or a fucking path to follow to lead to an answer. But he has come up short. 21 years of searching and he has only just grasped the simplicity of The Question.

“Who am I?”

It haunts him. It lies behind every word, underneath every step, and right at the edge of his vision. He sees the world as nothing but a mirror by which he can maybe hold fully catch a true glimpse of the answer. Before high school, books were the mirror. Then it was that hurricane of a woman. Now it is in friends and maybe just maybe he won’t need a mirror for much longer.

But it is hard work. To drown but to hold off on getting help. To suffer but to refuse to ask the pain to stop. He knows the answer to The Question is in these experiences. He writes for the same reason he once read.

Hopefully the answer arrives soon. Treading water isn’t easy.

Really well written. I find this so easy to follow a see the growing emotions and battles.

He;s sitting quite content in a sense. Throughout turmoil being anything but rare state of mind. As he sits here computer in lap writing, he feels home again. Trying to chase various paths of life throughout the past couple years, yet always knowing in the back of his head that he will end up home. Writing. Doing what he has always truly loved since he first discovered it in elementary school. Funny thing is; he discovers this in the most humorous way, at his best friends house, regardless of the fact that he is 2000 miles away at school. His best friends name is Andrew, and he goes to school in Colorado. Andrews house was always the 2nd home in his life. Single mom, raising 3 kids Andrew being the oldest. The boy on the bed, yeah over here *waving*[trying to use imagery], he on the other hand is home from school taking part time classes after being a full time student for the past 2 and a half years. You see, he was in a dark place for a while. Lots of things going on in his life, battling unhealthy relationship with long-time girlfriend, various family medical situations, trying to catch up on sleep from being a student-athlete with a rigorous schedule constantly. On top of all that he is being told these will be the best times of my life, yet all he feels is a cloud of depression over his head glooming larger and larger as the day goes on. Throughout all this, he decided it was best to come home for the semester. He has had a lot of time on his hands; a lot of support from his one and only woman he will ever need in his life, his mother. The true best friend. He has come to realize a lot of things about life. Life is what you make it, there’s only so much opportunity out there that you have to be willing to put the work to achieve your true goals. The right people relationship wise will come to him. All he needs is his family of five sisters and one brother with two loving parents behind his back. He can achieve anything he wants. Throughout the past couple days, he had a chance to think very deeply. He decided he’s going to attend college to play lacrosse, while majoring in business with a minor in some sort of english or writing. He feels like this is the right thing for him to do. He is very personable, and feels he can excel in the business world by day and by night take care of his body, be athletic, and destress and by night doing what he loves most, writing. And heck, if he ends up being good at it and maybe pursue a career in that path, then screw it. Life is what you make of it, you have to do what feels right, and what truly at the end of the day put a smile on your face and make you happy.

Her Bed is made. That’s a change. It isn’t always. For once she made it. She dared to tame unruly blankets that had twisted and tangled themselves throughout the night. Confined to her room, quarantine self imposed, she lay on her neatly made bed. Propping her head up on pillows she angled her laptop to just the right angle for bearable squinting. Her glasses were annoyingly smudged, but un-cleanable on the black Batman t-shirt she wore. She gave them a once over. Better than they were before, good enough, she pushed them onto her face. There. Comfortable.

She sighs. What is she doing anyway? Music plays over the internet radio. There is so much passing through her mind that the firewall is up to keep the virus from corrupting essential programming. So far high functioning. So far so good. Processing power is diverted to essential tasks, managing the menial necessities. Depression is a daily deviant she fights.

Around 15 minutes long:

She sits on a soft and cushioned couch, legs close together, eyes staring at an electronic screen of white and light. A glass of water rests close by. In her mind, words gush forth like a national gyser, and her hands shake with excitement on top of the black keyboard keys. She could already imagine the clickity-clack sounds they make after each of her fingers’ caress.

She clicks her tongue, and carefully navigates the keyboard, placing each fingure on a well travelled path. Usually, she does so with confidence, joyfully skimming the web and dreaming of a future of transformation and delight.

Today, she tilts her head and clucks her teeth, straightens her back, and glares. She glares at the notepad from left to right, tilting her head to and fro. Her toes start fidgeting, and she moves her knees up and down, as she searches her house for inspiration.

She sighs, and blinks. The cursor blinks back. She cradles the mouse carefully in her hands, preparing to place a few words to look at.

“Come on,” she thinks. “I can do this!”

She types one word, “She”, then another. And it seems as if she has finally broken through the dam holding her vocabulary hostage. Then she stops, and takes a look at her work.

After what has felt like weeks of travel from one country to another she sits looking out of a huge floor to ceiling window at the undulating tropical ocean. Despite the air con, the room feels warm and the air close. After a fortnight on European shores yearning for the heat on her back the unerringly grey and stormy weather has put a dampener on her mood. Whenever she feels like this, she reminds herself of how many people would give their right arm to be living in a tropical island paradise, but on days like today its hard not to remember the laughter, ease and shared history of familiar faces back home.

Man’s best friend commands her attention by snuggling his face on the seat in front of her. He misses his Daddy and with only one human in the house today to look after him he’s insistent on commanding her full attention. His eyes wonder to his ball. The intention is clear, “Play with me then?”. A game ensues of ‘throw and fetch’. She’s amused that he hasn’t quite mastered bringing the ball back; he takes it back to his bed each time then pushes it slightly with his foot and draws her eye as if willing her to take action through his glance.

Her thoughts wonder to the feelings this furry friend stirs inside her: maternal instinct. Is it a desire that will ever be fulfilled? Does she even want to disturb the calm freedom with which they lead their lives? Maybe nature should decide. Is that selfish or human nature she wonders?

As her mind fogs with the racing of thoughts inside her head, she hears a gentle snoring from the furry mound on the floor. Life is so simple for him she thinks, maybe they should both take a leaf out of their pet’s book and stop thinking too far ahead. “ Enjoy the moment”, she thinks and smiles to herself as she remembers how many times an online article has advised her to do just that.

I’m so alone. I thought death would bring me peace but instead it is a constant torment. I thought finally after all my pain and suffering I could have an endless sleep, an infinity of nothingness. But no. I’m stuck, forever here to watch drones get married, start families, fall in love… Why am I here? What did I do to endure this suffering? I’ve been here for centuries. Watched the decimation of my family line, the rape of my sister, murder of my father, things I probably would have been able to prevent if I was there.

It’s so lonely here on the other side, I haven’t spoken a word out loud for almost 80 years. Because what’s the point? The worst thing about it is being able to see everyone progress and not being able to interact with them, or maybe the inability to have someone touch love and care for you. It’s just nothingness.

Live your life to the fullest as this is what is in store for you, an eternity of torture and torment, oh well.

She is restless. Sitting in front of a computer monitor trying to contain a lifetime in 15 minutes. Trying to squeeze in a few words a life that was lived and a life that wasn’t. Her heart can’t contain it, her mind can’t, her room can’t contain it either. How could then a few words do it?

She is writing about the hope that is renewed as the dawn is re-birthed every day. The faith that hasn’t yet seen it all. About her real self that is yet to be manifested in a whole new way as she is becoming more and more who she was born to be.

The pictures on the wall remind her of the special moments she has lived. The sleeping man next to her reminds her of all that is yet to be lived. The silent hot night is just one of the many that she has lived; yet it is special. She can hear it whisper to her : “you are blessed”.

He woke up in the morning, and looked up at the damp patch in the corner of the room. He then wondered who was going to show up on this day, would it be white lightning, or the green eyed monster. White lightning was the mad wild white stallion that he was trying to break in, he is attempting to get a saddle and reins on this wild horse, but white lightning is a feisty beast, and doesn’t like to be controlled. But given time, he hopes that they can learn to respect one another, and white lightning won’t give him to much of a bumpy ride.

He knows that there will be times when he will loose control of the wild horse, and loose grip of the reins, and fall off. But he hopes that with help from his family, he can stand back up, and dust himself off, with only a few minor cuts and bruises. He hasn’t named the green eyed monster, as he doesn’t want to be familiar with him. This beast turns up unannounced, and at anytime, night or day. He was doing so well riding white lightning, and he was approaching the finish line, when the monster showed up, and ripped the reins from his hands. This is how he describes what it’s like living with bipolar disorder.

This mental state of hers is deteriorating, falling apart as she types. Another pretty face taken for granted, and lost in a wonderland of words. Only sure about one thing, she is alone. Alone because she pushes them away, the human race. She picks up a book and is lost again. She reads to escape this world, and writes to turn it into something else. Looking close, while she grips this pencil in her hand, a familiar feeling, it shakes. If you trace her fingers to her arm you see the cuts that bury deep into her wrist and forearm. Three months have passed and they have only faded a little. If only you could see into her body, you would notice the crack in her rip cage, and the collapsed lung that threatened to take her life two years ago. But the only visible scars from that night lie among her face, busted cheeks and scarred temple. Bruises long gone. Her shoulders start to cave with the weight of her mothers relapse, her dads disappearance and reappearance, death following her in every step along the way. She made her peace with him, why can’t he make his peace with her. People threaten to take her life and he said no. She tried to take her own and he said no. Begging to put her out of her misery. Wondering if she is here for a reason. Only time will tell.

Every form of creating is an escape, from what she still doesn’t know. She’ happy, mostly, even though she knows she shouldn’t be. There is a weird sadness and yet poetic justice about her situation. Moved from one entrapment to another, never sure which is worse. Yet here she is, still smiling and laughing because that’s all that she can do. To say she find’s this world disturbing is pushing it a bit far. There is a lot in this world she finds beautiful and there is so much to be happy about. Overly emotional and a weirdo in her own right, that’s what she is growing to accept. People come and go in her life, she watches her own life progress as if she is an on looker for things her body says and does without her permission. There have been so many late nights where she sits up cringing over thing’s she’s said and done anywhere from 2 minutes ago to 18 years ago. That in itself making her cringe. There are those around her, her friends and peers that she sees changing, being so different from who they used to be. So many of them posting their lives on social media, filling up folder after folder of selfie and fun yet hers lay bare, the latest upload 3 months ago of raspberries on her fingers because they looked like people. The childish curiosity and amusement still there. She sees all the statuses, while she sits on the sidelines of everyone else’s life, as pathetic as that is, and watches as they post how dweeb-y they USED to be and here she is, unable to say those words because the truth be told, she still is. Her weird, erratic behavior covering the scars and loathing. A volatile concoction of bitterness, love and naivety. The happy mess she’s made her life.

The same wind that scattered the leaves outside accompanied by the sounds of a passing train fills the room accented by the crisp fall air. The vibrant aroma of a fresh cup of coffee seemed to have extricated itself from the thick, cream coating over the surface, penetrating deep into his nose, watering his mouth. He craved the subtle undertone of caramel, and his cup showed a festive color. He wraps his fingers around it, enjoying the heat spreading through his hands. But without a conscious thought, it is in his hand, and the first milky sip creeps over his taste buds and down his throat. After only a few minutes he is bathed in the kick of the caffeine.

With cookies and candy nearby, he begins typing on his computer. At first his thoughts flow free and smooth like a quiet stream. But after twenty minutes or so his creative thought process hits a road block. He turns to his outline he made only minutes before hoping for more creative words. Checking the online timer he still has about ten minutes before the planned time runs out.

He has a to do list perched on his desk to serve as a reminder to stay on task. He loads some of his favorite mood music on his computer into his headset. The creative center of his brain stimulated by the music provides him with the visual and emotional thoughts he now types onto the page. Words begin to flow more freely and faster. Soon paragraphs, even chapters are written. Lost in his own world he can feel, taste, and experience every nuance his characters are experiencing.

As he types, the deep emotional thoughts translate onto the page bringing his characters to life. The timer runs out indicating a red flashing message on his screen. He stops typing. While taking a break, he reads the words his mind had provided him.

His eyes tear up as he reads what he created realizing the beauty of the words. Reading them aloud almost brings them to life.

If only he could enter that world.

She was the type of girl who was loud and outgoing. Her curly smokey brown hair and dark chocolate brown eyes that everyone though was always happy. when someone would look at her she would always be smiling , as if she had no worries in the world. At least thats what people thought. She was the happiest yet the saddest person. She never knew what she felt. she once mentioned she was seeing a psychologist to help with whatever she had,that didn’t help, it just confused her more than she already was. She was alice in wonderland but in her own world. she didn’t know whether she was mad sad or happy so she just smiled the pain away. No one ever seemed to ask how she felt because they didn’t care, but when it came to them she was the one who was always there. she was an excellent student, she played sports, and was loved by her family, yet she hated herself. Why? who knows. all she knows is that she doesn’t lover herself. she wishes that she could be the perfect picture of a teenage girl that society looks for. Those curves,flat stomach, colored eyes, etc. she had extremely nice features yet she wasn’t satisfied, she didn’t like what she saw when she would look into the mirror. all she saw was a hideous girl starring back at her. she’d would wake up knowing that she would be the same girl in the mirror. she worked out everyday and ate so little to meet societies expectations, but no matter what it wasn’t good enough for her or society. Her only escape was writing and music, she couldn’t describe her feelings or thoughts, she was emotionally and mentally muted. she would talk about anything and everything except herself. she doesn’t feel loved , she feels as if shell never be good enough for anyone or that no one will ever see her for who she truly is. On the outside she’s beautiful, smart, funny, outgoing etc. yet on the inside there is the ugly part of her that consumes her more and more everyday, she was sinking into a dark hole that no one knew about. she would take pills that would make her feel good, she would smoke pot and eat edibles, it didn’t complete her. she’s missing something that completes her but what could it be? Love? Attention? she doesn’t even know the answer to that, all she wants is to be left alone but at the same time she wants to be happy, she doesn’t want to portray to be something she’s not. She’s tired of it! She wants to be set free and be that little girl that everyone knew she was, she doesn’t want to be this rotten 16 year old girl. Her mother always tried to figure her out but she never got anywhere because she would never try to talk to anyone. Instead of talking to someone she goes to sleep or goes to work out. Her body says one thing yet her mind and soul say another. She is searching for ways to communicate through her actions yet no one understands her complexity, but thats what makes her who she is. Her complexity of emotions and mentality make her beautiful.

She sits on her couch. Goes for the remote to watch news. News is not her kind of thing but today she needs to watch. She feels the urge to see what’s happening to the world. How can she be so interested today in news? She asks herself. Deep down, she is scared. Not sure of what to do with her life. She has just finished campus and does not know what life ahead has in store for her. All she is sure of is that she wants the best life. She doesn’t want to look back and regret one day. As she sits there, she sees this cockroach just fumbling around her living room. It hits her that she has dirty utensils. Utensils from the previous day. Nothing nags her than doing the utensils but does she have an option? She let’s go the thought and picks her phone to call her little brother to see how he is doing. As she goes through her contacts, her phone vibrates..she looks, it is her boyfriend calling to ask her to meet up tomorrow they need to talk. What is it that he wants to talk about? What had she done? This freaked her out. The nervous feeling inside her does not allow her to watch the television in peace. She walks to her bedroom, lies down and lets the night slip away..

She always remembered herself listening to music. By now she pinned it down to the fact that she dreaded being alone. It wasn’t fear of the dark or any other shady thing that might be luring in dark corners, she had her own personal demons to keep her entertained. Those vengeful entities with such free will but no sense of boundaries that kept reaching out to gradually more sacred and untouched parts of herself. No music in the world could stop them today. The turntable was whistling jazz tunes and coffee was bubbling on the stove-top. She looked outside the window and the sharp stillness felt like failure. She felt the failures she’d experienced and all the failures yet to come weighing down on her. All those opportunities she’d missed and all of those she’d never gotten. Why? What was she afraid of? For one, she was afraid of answering that question.

He sits in his newly-furnished living room. Alone, as always. Of course, this is a burden that he has always bestowed upon himself. He could not be lonely, people like him enough. But nevertheless he is alone. Perhaps subconsciously, for his consciousness constantly dreads it, this is the way that he wants it to be. He silently types out his “creative” piece, only listening to the conversation within his mind and the only-occasional clicking of keys. You see, he wants to be a writer; ever since he was a small child he has dreamed of touching people’s hearts in the way that his heart has never been touched. A weird sentence? Yes, but truthful nonetheless. He has always had a sort of appreciation for the art of creative writing and reading, an appreciation that grew into a desire, not a desire to entertain but more of a desire to awe people, to make them think. Unfortunately, his laziness is the only thing that has ever stopped him from achieving his own potential. He certainly will never be the person who bows down to society and proceeds to lick it’s sweaty, fungus-ridden puss-covered toes but the least he can do, he thinks to himself, is work so that he eventually will not have to. There has always been this game he has played in his head. One where he writes something that is truly phenomenal, a piece that nobody in their right minds would ever dare to pass up, and then he shows it to a teacher or professor, somebody with power. Of course, they would be so impressed by it that they rush out of their office or classroom, wherever they are reading it at the time, and drive straight to their friend Steve-The-Editor’s house and he is so impressed by it that he immediately bestows a book deal upon the boy and he makes it big. Within two years time, he is talking movie-deals, daily interviews, widespread acclaim and above all else, a more than ideal living situation. But instead, the boy just sits alone in his newly-furnished living room, thinking of his glory-days and all they are meant to be.

An Exorcism

He listened to the audio tape, wandering idly in this crypt, that extended under the Parisian bedrock-the ossuary giving the city a foundation of bones. “This historic place was originally a quarry, a place where stone was dug…” He ignored it, too focused on exploring. He was not usually like this, but there was a difference lurking in his actions, something strong, something elemental, something overpowering. Fear-He was scared, not of the grinning skulls that littered this labyrinth, nor of the musky scent of the already decomposed skulls and bones, not even of the long narrow corridors, and leaking pipes.

He feared what the skulls implied; they were identical, forgotten, alone, and He prayed for them. For everything has a past, an origin, and with any beginning comes an end. With that realization He prayed. This time for himself. For his beginning was known, but his end, that was uncertain. Would He end forgotten, alone, indistinguishable, an enigma, from the rest, in the eternal conformity of death?

With these thoughts relentlessly agonizing him, He slowed, his extensional crisis not yet resolved, instead looming over him, in an insidious invasion. He felt meaningless, after all, without humanity the sun would still shine, space would still expand, and the mantle would still convect. What was the worth? Why were they here? What was life if not an exercise in futility? These Toxic thoughts pained his soul, and He could find no answer-no reason for his self-importance in the face of these fears and questions. It seems fitting that in a place of death, these questions haunted him.

He felt alone, until He looked at his family, and thought of his friends, and in a flash of realization, his blindness to the beauty of humanity lifted, and He remembered. He remembered the beauty of our endurance, dauntless in the face of a hostile world, a species that rose from the bottom of the food chain to the ones that create it. A race that when faced with nature’s wrath, they rebuild, and repopulate in the exact same places. Using the god-given tool of innovation, to create a society that links the world together. Rising above all that burdened them until they were smart and resilient enough to ask these questions.

With that, He realized that the answer to his crisis was in the company of his fellow man. He wouldn’t die as a nobody, because the people He loved would remember him. His life had barely begun, He had an opportunity-no a gift-to make an impact, and to change the world. With that his demons had been exorcised, that in an odd juxtaposition, his restoration of hope, occurred in a place of sadness, mouring, and death. But He supposed, that is the nature of humanity, finding inspiration in the oddest places.

He was lying in his bed, listening to the voice of newspaper flickering through the wind of ceiling fan. He was tired and having a sever headache. But was determined to learn how to write since he is very close to giving an entrance for a college. When I talk about his frame of mind, he is very scared, someone who has a confidence with a sense of doubt – “Will I be able to achieve this?”. He thinks and longs for sleeping, but there is a burning sensation, a desire, a goal that keeps him awake during the nights, gives him a typical of 4 hours of sleep every night. After all, what keeps him alive is the what kills him the most – desire to achieve success.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where else to go, who to tell or who even to trust. So he panicked. Without a second to think, he quickly grabbed the phone out of Uncle Jack’s coat pocket and dialed 9-1-1. The phone hardly rang before a operator answered. ” 9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” “Yes! can you please send medical help to 123 Main Street, my uncle has been shot and he’s not responding! There’s blood, a shit load of blood, everywhere.” he cried. After, he ended the call, quickly wiped the phone clean of any fingerprints and placed the phone in a wooden drawer near the closet.

She sits alone at a desk, a dual-monitor computer flickering lazily in front of her as she scrolls through websites online. Her eyes are tired, for such a young soul. She has had enough. The dark circles under her eyes made her seem like an infant panda, or possibly a raccoon, and no matter how much makeup she used she could never quite rid herself of them.

Often, she finds herself wandering aimlessly in her own mind; the mind itself seemingly a vast expanse of intrigue and wonder. Thoughts can linger for hours, or disappear as quickly as they come into being. After a while, she often forgets herself in her thoughts and lets time pass her by.

The stress of exams lingers over her, a hovering overlord dooming her to fail. She, however, ignores it. With a wave of her pen, she writes facts and figures to remember for the next day. A flicker of her weary eyes across a page gives her a sense of reassurement as she realises she knows more than she once thought.

The clock ticks seven. Her revision session is over. She is content and prepared, even if she looks physically exhausted.

She wakes up every morning at six o’clock sharp. Not a little bit more nor less. She likes doing that,even if its not a school morning or a day necessary for her to wake up so early. She thinks by doing that, she can catch up with time and run alongside it, not behind. She’ll sleep very late at night and wake up with the sun, a constant routine she’s careful not to break. Afraid that if she did, one precious hour will passed without her enjoying her favorite youtube channels, usually talking about different psychology topics or the meaning of her birth chart explained by amateur astrologers. She likes the silence that comes with the early morning, when everyone in her family is still asleep. For a moment, she knows that she’s safe, with only the sun and sounds of someone speaking through her iphone screen or sometimes, just her own thoughts ringing in her ears like small bells reminding her that she’s alive and all the reasons why she should be glad of that. Breathing in and out, opening and closing her eyes, a small smile tugged at her lips, and birds singing, vaguely signaling that a new day is approaching.

He is sitting in the separate room as a study room .He looks joyful remembering his family, his child and of course his parents too. Even he tries to ignore the some cuts he received in his fresh battle with his spouse. As he is somehow determine to overcome by this. Now again the question which makes him vociferous is what to do.. It is very long time ago now as he remembers his old work job. Because there is nothing credibility left in that concern or by that job. As it is morning time,he has to do some rituals but completing some more sentences. Of course he is now determined man. who has seen all gritty petty of life. He tries to answer his questions then why he is sitting ideal.

She sits back in the same seat she always sits in at 1:10pm. She scans the room around her. “What am I doing here?” she questions herself. “I belong somewhere bigger, better, faster.. most importantly more creative.” She begins to think of everything she’s ever been through and then moves onto thinking about everything she deserves. This girl had been through hell and back and never really seems to get a break. In her 7th grade year she was told that she needed to move to a house almost 20 miles away from her whole life, not extremely far.. But it was a lot for a 12 year old. There was something revealed about her parents. They were addicts. They were addicted to the effects that heroin gave them. The way it made them feel, but they realized they needed help and there was only one place their child could go and still have some sort of way to go back and forth to her school that she couldn’t just drop. Her heart dropped to her stomach every time she ever started to think about the place she was sent. She felt sick of everything she’d been through because she fears every day she’ll have to go back. The girl was sent to her aunt’s house. Sounds all great and family oriented until you realize the way she was treated and what she had to go through. When she first stepped foot into the home that she would live in for the next 6 months, she felt ery. She cried herself to sleep for a majority of the nights spent in the basement of their home. She contemplating ending her life more than once but she continued to hold on, “For mom,” she would remind herself, “Stay Strong for mom” She paced around the basement trying to figure out how to get out of her hell on earth. She was treated as a red headed step child… some would even call it a life like cinderella. She was told to make a meal once a day for the people she was staying with. She had family counselors that would come to the house and speak with her, they would find any way to possibly help her. She was in the deepest depression… nothing seemed to pull her out from the dark depths she had entered. Now the day she was taken out of the home was the most traumatic experience she had encountered. “TWO WORDS. THANK. YOU.” These words rang through her head to this day. Her aunt screamed these words at her whilst in a family counseling session. She now struggles keeping herself together everytime someone raises their voice even in the slightest bit directed towards her. Her body trembles occasionally throughout the course of her life due to these events. She doesn’t remember breathing this day. She just remembers crying and balling herself up for self protection. She was rushed into the basement to collect what she could grab. “You are the most ungrateful, disrespectful, selfish kid I’ve ever met!” The young girl still thinks about herself like this. She takes one look in the mirror. Disrespectful. Selfish. Not good enough.. This is what she sees. New things have been added to the ways she sees herself because her self esteem was destroyed. Ugly. Untalented. Rude. Broken. That word… Broken. There was no way to unsee this word written across her forehead. She never thought she would be able to be loved again. After she left her aunt’s house she moved from one house to the other of her family. She was moved to another aunt’s house, this time her mom was with her. Her mom had to leave the recovery house she was staying in because the broken hearted girl wasn’t able to keep herself together anymore after the horrifying memories that blocked her state of mind. After a few months they were asked to leave there as well, due to having a relationship with her father. He was also a recovering addict and wasn’t the best with keeping his old ways under keeps. He had stolen about 200 dollars in change from the woman who allowed his girlfriend and daughter to stay. They moved forward from this and the young girls grandmother allowed them to enter her home. At this time in her life she was about 13 now. Her mother was diagnosed with an unknown disease that caused her brain to swell. Her mom fell back into a deep depression and the only way she knew how to cope with this was to begin using again. She was constantly in and out of the hospital and her young daughter struggled with the idea that she had no clue what could happen to her mom. Eventually she was released and all was well, except that fact that they were sooner than later kicked out of this home they were staying in as well. Her heart broke. She wasn’t good enough, her mind flew to the conclusion that her family didn’t love her. Hate grew in her heart. She began to come off as hard and unloving. Her heart looked black. She didn’t feel anything anymore. She definitely believed no one would love her anymore. Here comes the part where we fast forward 2 years. She falls in love with a boy she never thought she would even have noticed. She fell in love with not only this boy but his family, his heart, his looks, and his interests. He put on the cover of loving her more than anything. She opened her heart to the boy, she gave him everything. Near the end of the relationship she gave him her body, her heart, her soul and her mind. He was the first boy she’s ever gave these things to. She valued herself more than expected and took these things very seriously. But not long after she did this he decided it was time for things to come to an end. She never saw this coming… she had planned so far in advance for them. She started planning for next year, next summer, their one year. She truly believed that he was the one to help her through everything. He lightened up her life in ways that hadn’t been lit up in years. She found herself in a dark space again. She didn’t really understand why it hurt her so bad to have her heart broke over and over again. Her mind told her this would become a normal thing. The broken girl never really stops being broken right?

At the moment, she was worried. It felt like everything was all too much and not enough at the same time, and it was overwhelming in a way that was seemingly impossible to explain. She was sitting in a chair with ugly red flowers sewed onto a grey fabric, and she was contemplating her life. It felt like so much had already happened, but there was still more to come. It was an exciting thought, but it was also what was frighting her. She had everything planned. A college acceptance letter was tacked onto her wall above her bed; her future was ready to begin. She would attend an unreasonably expensive school, live in mediocre dorms with a room mate she feared she would hate, but she would survive. The college wasn’t far from home, so any time she felt her sanity slip she knew her mother was only a twenty minute drive away. Her mother could always help her clear her mind, and she knew within the next couple of years, she was bound to need plenty of clearing. College wouldn’t be easy. She would be working on her writing, investing herself into the one thing she truly loved, even though she knew it was a bad idea. That this tacit rarely worked, and it rarely worked for people like her. People with so much doubt in themselves that the feel that maybe everything would just be easier if they gave up and did something smarter. Maybe she could do something easier with her life. Major in math, like she always thought she would, maybe become the veterinarian she had dreamed herself to be for so many years before she got it in her head that she wanted to be a writer. Still, as she considers quitting on her dream and doing something that would be more successful in the future, she can’t ignore that fact that she wouldn’t be happy in any other life. She’s passionate about writing, more passionate about creating her own words than reading others, and this is saying something because she can often be found hiding somewhere with a book in her hands, ignoring f all of the responsibilities of high school and life. She wishes that it would be easy to get where she wants to go, but she knows it won’t be, and all she can do is hope that she can keep her doubt at bay for long enough to do something amazing, because she knows she can. But she doesn’t know if shes strong enough for that. Strong enough to ignore the world and all the judgmental people in it who are trying to hold her back. Doesn’t know if she can ignore herself for that long. This is what scares her. Herself. So she sits in her ugly chair and prays that she doesn’t get in her own way of changing the world with her own words.

Behind a desk loaded with papers, she sits in an office chair looking anywhere but at those files waited to be sorted through. She wonders, ‘How much paper would it take to completely barricade me into this office I despise? Could I stop my boss from popping in periodically if I flooded this room with papers, making it impossible to open the door without risking a paper cut frenzy?’ She wouldn’t mind the paper cuts if it meant more autonomy and less need for these useless details depicted on every form. She sips her coffee, which the receptionist brewed too strong (again) and will surely cause a queasy stomach as she taps fingers and feet, hoping to make 5 o’clock come more quickly. Coffee is no time machine though – merely a morning ritual which always seems like a comfort until she’s at the bottom of the cup, realizing it actually brought her almost no comfort at all. ‘Oh well’. she thinks. ‘Maybe tomorrow’s cup will help the time pass faster.’ And yet time passes at the same rate it always has, ticking away her life, file by file, cup by cup.

Eleven Years Ago They make it seem like a past can just be forgotten. They don’t truly realize what it really was like. Smoke. Silence. Constant pain and fear. Hungers of a child compel her out of the safety of the closet. Creeping past the slumbering Bringer of Agony and Rare Love, she trips over imagined escapes. Scouring the kitchen, she looked for something – or anything to eat. But a roar of the mother’s wrath interrupted her anxious search. A fist met her stormy blue eye. Cries of confusion and agony echo in the sparse and bare apartment. She falls face first into the cruddy, grey shag carpet, fresh cigarette butts singing her cheekbones. She whimpers like a kicked puppy, trying her hardest to not let The Woman see her tears carving canyons down her pale freckled face. She knows this to be her life, and that it will never change. At the tender age of five, she already knew that her mother couldn’t and wouldn’t love her, and each day will follow like the one before it. Abuse would’ve been her eternity. But she also did not know of hope. She didn’t realize that the unexpected can occur in the deepest, darkest of midnights. When the silver moon was just a glowing crust, the storm in her eyes brewed. A thought rose like the tide, and an idea crashed down in waves. Before her mind could rationalize the idiocy, she crawled out of the sleeping bag in the closet. The Woman had left the child alone that night, again. Grabbing her coat, shoes, and a cereal bar, she climbed out onto the steel ladder going down the five story apartment complex. Her footfalls made little to no noise as she clambered clumsily. A tomcat yowled and hid when she stepped out onto the pavement. She looked both ways. The stars winked mischievously as she disappeared down the unknown alleyway, escaping from the frying pan and into the great and terrible fire itself.

Now She sat in her creative writing class. Creative non – fiction, huh? Sounded interesting. She recalled the stolen file hidden under her mattress. She knew she was adopted. Her parents knew that at seven years old, she was bound to remember something and thus didn’t keep it a secret. But they also never gave her any details. They say they really never knew the background of the little blonde child they opened up their arms for. It wasn’t until she was older that she recalled memories of eating rotten apples and discarded, half eaten sandwiches in the darkness. She remembered grey shag carpets, and a ripped sleeping bag in a tiny closet. Images that she couldn’t have imagined on her own began sprouting up from nowhere. She didn’t dare tell her parents. They always assumed her overactive imagination tended to skew her version of reality. They thought they knew better than to trust her words. So just the other day, when her parents were gone, she poked around in her dad’s office looking for the keys to the intimidating file cabinet prowling in the corner. She didn’t believe that her parents were as ignorant as they portrayed themselves to be. Besides, when you go through a huge financial and legal change like adopting a child, don’t you usually keep records of everything? They had to be in that filing cabinet. She had shuffled around through the desk drawers and the bookshelf beside her computer. She saw a ring of little keys beside a small wicker basket filled with other random brick-a-brack. Excitedly, she tried the first key. It didn’t even insert. She heard her mom open the garage door. The second slid in easily, but refused to turn. The dogs were sitting at the laundry room door expectantly. Her heart racing, she almost dropped the keys before using the last one. Slippery like butter, it turned. The drawer popped open. Her eyes glanced at all the different files, and saw the one titled Annalia. The file was heavy, and she thrust it into her shirt. The papers felt cold and sharp against her sweaty back as her mother walked into the house, laden with groceries. “What are you doing in dad’s office?” Her mom was definitely suspicious. “I was getting printer paper for a drawing. It looks nicer than the lined notebook stuff.” She nodded. “Ok. Help unload the car please, then get started on your homework. And remember, it’s trash to the curb night, and you have to be at choir practice at 6:30…” After school that day, she plopped herself on to her bed and pulled the thick file out from under her mattress. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but this – this was something else entirely. It was a record, from the day she was introduced to the family on their doorstep in the August air, to just few days ago while she was working out at the Dojo. She read her mother’s handwriting, of every single conceivable mistake and error she made, and was picked apart and analyzed. There were even notes from some parental class she was taking, something about child development and discipline. She read every single day entry. Then behind the notebook there were medical reports dating 2001 – 08. It was a little hard reading the messy handwriting of a doctor, especially with the older technology of photocopying fading the paper. The day that she put into state custody, apparently there was a very thorough physical examination. She had purple and black bruises all along her arms and legs and stomach and back, and even rings around her neck from a chokehold. The were long red streaks, presumed by the writer as proof of a constant whipping from a belt. There was also damage to her lungs from secondhand smoking. She had three deep puncture wounds on the bottom of her left foot that were infected. She vaguely remembered crying on brick steps, holding a bloody foot and smoke curling around her tear stricken face. She was horrified. She always dreamed of finding her parents, and meeting them again. She imagined herself to be like Annie, where her parents would come back for her someday. She knew that she couldn’t just go back to live with them again, but she liked the idea of both sets of parents all sitting down at the dinner table, laughing and eating delicious food together. She could see her adoptive dad taking out the monopoly game board, and both of them having conversations about boyfriends, and moms sharing their own mother’s chocolate chip cookie recipes. Her fantasy was destroyed. That could never be. Her own mother was only thirteen years older, young enough to be an older sister. Her father went unmentioned throughout the file, as if he only existed to bring her into the world, then ceased to exist. There were also gaps. 2006 and 2007 weren’t recorded. She knew she was going to have to learn more. This file – this wasn’t enough. Her hunger for the truth to be dragged out only increased when she snuck the file back to the cabinet after making more copies of every single page. She stored her copies between the layers of spare sheets on the top shelf in her closet. They couldn’t know. Not yet. She needed to know more. This couldn’t be the end.

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Meaningful Personal Essay Topics

DESCRIPTION Woman journaling at the beach
SOURCE Westend61 / Getty Images

Writing a personal essay is a wonderful way to express yourself. It’s also great narrative writing practice – if you’ve got the right topic. Check out these ideas for writing about your own experiences in a meaningful, personal way.

Personal Essay Topics About Your Experiences

Talking about things that have happened to you can help you process them. Additionally, experience essays can show the reader insights about you that they may not have known before. See if these topics inspire you to write about your own personal experiences.

Write about a time you learned something from someone unexpected.
How did you learn to ride a bike?
What was the most difficult part of the 2020 quarantine for you?
Is your current life how you imagined it would be?
What was the first news event you remember hearing about?
Where was your favorite place to go when you were young? Why was it special?
Write about a time you were sure you were right – but it turned out that you were wrong.
Describe your favorite thing to do when you were a child.
Write about a food that makes you think of another time.
What was a stressful situation that you’ve dealt with recently?

Personal Essay Topics About You

Help your reader learn more about you with topics about your values, concerns, and priorities. Each of these topics can be adapted into formal writing prompts or inspiration for journal entries. You can also build off of what they’re asking for a more thorough writing experience.

What makes you a good coworker or friend?
Where would you like to spend a thunderstorm?
Could you live without technology for a week? A year? What would it look like?
If you could trade personality traits with someone, what would you trade?
How would you spend one million dollars if you had to spend half of it on yourself?
What is the most important item in your home? Why?
What could you teach someone about in a TED Talk or podcast?
Write about a place you always try to avoid?

Personal Essay Topics About Relationships

Everyone has people who have influenced them in their lives. What are your most important relationships? What kinds of people do you surround yourself with? Keep these questions in mind when writing your next personal essay.

Describe someone who taught you how to NOT do something by doing it incorrectly.
Write about the first friend you ever made. Have your values for choosing friends changed?
Who would you bring with you on a dream vacation?
Think about someone in your life whom you see often but don’t work or live with. What can you learn from them?
Who in your life started as a stranger but became a close friend?
Write about a time when you had a houseguest but didn’t enjoy their company.
Talk about someone in your life whom you have lost. How has your life changed since they’ve been gone?
How have you learned to get along with a difficult person in your life?

Personal Essay Topics About Dreams

Writing about what you’d love to do can make your dreams feel like reality. Personal essays about dreams for the future or fantasy situations can help readers get to know who you are. If these topics inspire you, feel free to incorporate them into your next personal essay.

If you could have any job in the world, what would it be?
Where do you hope to be in three months? Six months? One year?
How would you spend a weekend if money were no object?
Describe your dream house. What would be your favorite room?
What celebrity would you most like to meet? What advice would you seek from them?
What is something you wanted as a child but never received?
What would be your dream pet?
If you could live the life of any movie or book character, who would you choose?

Narrative Writing and Journaling

Finding inspiration for a personal essay can be as meaningful as writing the essay itself. Use these tips for crafting your personal essay in a well-structured format. You can also get kids involved in the writing process with these journal-writing exercises for kids.

Inner Explorations: Top Personal Writing Prompts to Discover Yourself

By: Author Valerie Forgeard

Posted on August 17, 2023

Categories Writing

The journey of self-discovery is both intricate and deeply personal, weaving through the tapestry of our experiences, hopes, fears, and dreams.

Yet, often, the most profound revelations lie just beneath the surface, waiting for the right nudge to emerge.

These prompts are more than just questions; they are doorways into your innermost corridors, inviting you to traverse the landscapes of your mind and heart.

Whether you’re an avid journaler or a curious soul seeking clarity, this article aims to guide you deeper into the realm of self-awareness and personal growth. Embrace the adventure, for within these pages lies the map to your own hidden treasures.

Key Takeaways

Personal writing prompts serve as catalysts for self-discovery and reflection.
They unlock hidden parts of oneself and allow thoughts and feelings to pour onto the paper.
Personal writing prompts stimulate creativity and help overcome writer’s block.
They lead to self-understanding, transformation, and a deeper understanding of one’s persona.

Personal Writing Prompts

The journey of self-discovery often starts with a single question, a moment of introspection, or a spark of curiosity. Personal writing prompts act as mirrors, reflecting aspects of ourselves that might remain hidden or unexplored in our daily lives.

Whether you’re seeking clarity, hoping to unearth forgotten memories, or simply looking to add depth to your journaling practice, these prompts are your companions. Embark on this intimate exploration and let the stories of your soul come to the fore.

January – New Beginnings:

Reflect on the most impactful lesson you learned last year.
What is a new hobby or skill you want to pick up this year?
Write about a place you want to visit.
Your favorite winter memory.
A habit you want to break.

February – Love & Relationships:

Describe a tradition you have with a loved one.
What does unconditional love mean to you?
A time when love challenged you.

March – Growth & Renewal:

A mistake you learned from.
Describe something you outgrew.
Your biggest achievement in the last year.

April – Dreams & Aspirations:

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
A goal you’re working towards.
What’s on your bucket list?

May – Memories & Reflections:

A family tradition you cherish.
Write about a time you felt truly free.
Describe a turning point in your life.

June – Adventures & Travels:

A local spot you love to visit.
The most exotic place you’ve been.
A travel mishap story.

July – Freedom & Independence:

A time when you felt completely independent.
Reflect on a major decision you made.
How do you celebrate your personal victories?

August – Creativity & Inspiration:

An artwork that speaks to you.
A book or movie that changed your perspective.
Write about someone who inspires you.

September – Changes & Transformations:

Reflect on a moment that reshaped your beliefs.
Describe a time you faced your fears.
The person you were 10 years ago vs. now.

October – Mysteries & The Unknown:

Describe a time when something inexplicable happened to you.
Your favorite Halloween memory.
What scares you the most?

November – Gratitude & Giving:

Write about a time someone showed you unexpected kindness.
Your favorite Thanksgiving memory.
Describe a tradition of giving in your family.

December – Reflection & Celebration:

The best gift you’ve ever received.
A tradition you want to start.
Reflect on the year as a whole.

Understanding Personal Writing Prompts

Diary With A Feather Quill Resting On Blank Pages, Surrounded By Scattered, Colorful Sticky Notes In Various Shapes, Each With A Unique Symbol Representing Different Personal Writing Prompts

Let’s dive into understanding personal writing prompts and how they can boost our creativity.

Imagine an invisible spark, a prompt inspiration that ignites your thoughts, guiding them onto the blank canvas of a page. They’re not just questions or statements; they’re catalysts for emotional articulation, unique to your experiences.

As you respond to these prompts, you’ll find yourself exploring uncharted territories of your mind. You’ll unearth memories long-forgotten, insights never before considered, emotions yet to be articulated. Your pen dances on the paper as words pour out like liquid gold from within you.

In essence, personal writing prompts are more than mere tools; they’re keys that unlock your creative potential and open doors to self-discovery. So pick up your pen and let it guide you through this journey of storytelling.

The Importance of Personal Writing Prompts

-Up Of A Hand Holding A Golden Pen, Poised Above An Open Leather-Bound Journal, With A Soft Glow Emanating From The Blank Pages

They’re essential for sparking creativity and overcoming writer’s block. Personal writing prompts, they’re like a compass guiding you through the labyrinth of your mind. They stimulate prompt personalization serving as a catalyst to ignite your imagination.

You know, it’s like having a conversation with yourself; you ask questions, dig deeper, and unveil layers of thoughts that were hitherto unexplored.

But there’s more – it’s not just about stoking the fires of creativity. It also involves emotional exploration, peeling back layers of your experiences to reveal raw emotions. Don’t be afraid to dive into those depths!

Let these prompts open floodgates of sentiments that can color your writing with authenticity and depth. So grab those prompts and let them steer you towards undiscovered territories within yourself!

How to Use Personal Writing Prompts Effectively

Of Colorful, Hand-Drawn Notecards With Varied Prompts, A Vibrant Ink Pen, A Lit Lightbulb Above The Cards Symbolizing Inspiration, And A Serene, Clutter-Free Writing Desk

It’s crucial to understand how to effectively utilize these creative cues in your literary journey. Prompt personalization is key, tailoring each one to your unique experiences and perspective. This approach evokes emotion not just for you but also for your readers.

Consider the following tips:

Use specific memories or moments that stir strong feelings.
Delve into personal challenges; they often yield compelling narratives.
Explore varied emotional states—joy, sadness, fear—for a rich tapestry of human experience.
Draw from real-life personalities who’ve impacted you deeply.
Blend reality with imagination to expand the bounds of possible stories.

Emotion evocation breathes life into your words, captivating audiences with shared empathy and connection. Harness this power diligently for a transformative writing experience.

Unleashing Creativity Through Personal Writing Prompts

Exploding With Vibrant Colors, A Hand Clutching A Quill Pen, And Scattered Blank Papers Transforming Into Butterflies, All On A Backdrop Of An Antique, Wooden Writing Desk

Unleashing one’s creativity can be achieved effectively through tailored cues that evoke memories, emotions, and experiences. Think of personal writing prompts as your secret gateway to self-expression. They’re not just questions or statements; they’re catalysts for stimulating imagination.

Imagine this: you pick a prompt, it’s something simple yet intriguing. As you start to write, the words begin to flow like never before. It’s as if you’ve unlocked a hidden part of yourself – thoughts and feelings pour onto the paper. You find connections where you didn’t think any existed – between your past and present, dreams and realities.

Prompts for self-expression don’t just stimulate your mind; they awaken your soul. So go ahead, let these prompts guide you into uncharted territories of your creativity.

The Role of Personal Writing Prompts in Self-Reflection

E Of A Person Gazing At Their Reflection In A Still Pond, Surrounded By Floating Inkwells And Quills, Under A Tree With Parchment Paper Leaves

In self-reflection, these tailored cues play a pivotal role by aiding us in delving deeper into our thoughts and emotions. They are the whispered prompts that guide you down uncharted paths of your psyche, igniting sparks of inspiration and ensuring consistency in your introspective journey.

Feel how personalized writing prompts stir up dormant emotions.
Experience the joy of uncovering forgotten memories.
Marvel at the rich tapestry of your inner world.
Rejoice in the newfound depths of self-understanding.
Relish the transformative power that comes with it.

These are not just words on a page; they’re keys to unlock the deepest chambers of your heart. Embrace this prompt inspiration, maintain prompt consistency, and watch as you become both author and protagonist in your unique narrative.

Exploring Different Types of Personal Writing Prompts

Ge Of Diverse Individuals Deep In Thought, Surrounded By Symbolic Icons: A Diary, A Pen, A Typewriter, A Laptop, A Scroll, And A Quill

Imagine diving into the depths of your memories, surfacing with gems previously overlooked or forgotten. That’s the exciting journey personal narrative prompts, reflective journal prompts, and memoir writing prompts can take you on.

These tools are your key to unlock a treasure trove of introspection and self-discovery, each one meticulously designed to guide you through past experiences and onto the path of deeper understanding.

Personal Narrative Prompts

Personal narrative prompts aren’t just about recounting events; they’re about sharing personal feelings and experiences. They’re the catalyst for your emotional expression and narrative construction, the foundation of a story that’s uniquely yours.

Consider these potential prompts:

Think of a time when you faced an unexpected challenge. How did it change you?
Recall a joyful moment from childhood. Can you still taste the sweetness?
Describe an encounter that left you speechless.
Imagine having a conversation with your younger self. What advice would you give?
Revisit a heartbreak that shaped your perspective on love.

These are not mere topics; they’re gateways to introspection, designed to unearth hidden layers of your persona. So grab your pen, let emotions flow, construct narratives – it’s time to share stories only you can tell.

Reflective Journal Prompts

Reflective journal prompts aren’t just about recording daily events; they’re tools for deep self-reflection and personal growth. You dive into the sea of your thoughts, navigating through waves of emotions and currents of ideas. It’s a journey that’ll lead you to unexplored shores of self-awareness.

Through these reflective practices, you can confront your fears or celebrate victories. They help you pause, ponder, and appreciate life’s intricacies. Journaling benefits are vast – it sharpens your focus, cultivates gratitude, fosters creativity, and bolsters emotional health.

Imagine yourself as an archaeologist unearthing ancient artifacts – those forgotten memories or hidden feelings. Each prompt is like a brush that gently removes the dust from your past experiences, revealing beautiful patterns underneath. So grab that pen! Your expedition awaits!

Memoir Writing Prompts

Memoir-related exercises offer a gateway into your past. They allow you to relive moments and experiences that’ve shaped who you are today. Unearthing these hidden gems is like stitching together the patchwork of your life’s chapters. Each piece contributes to the overall memoir structure.

Consider these prompts:

Recall a cherished memory from your childhood. How does it shape who you are now?
Describe a time when you faced an insurmountable challenge. What did it teach you?
Picture a special person in your life. Why do they matter so much?
Think about an event that changed your perspective. What was the turning point?
Remember one of the happiest days of your life. Can you still feel its warmth?

Personal Writing Prompts for Journaling

Journal With An Antique Quill Pen, Ink Bottle, And A Softly Glowing Hourglass, All Placed On A Rustic Wooden Table With A Serene Sunrise View In The Background

It’s essential to choose interesting prompts for journaling that’ll inspire you to write daily. Imagine this, every word you pen down is a step towards emotional catharsis, shedding the weight of unexpressed feelings.

Delve into your mind’s deepest corners, exploring your fears, hopes or the most mundane details of life.

Your journal becomes a canvas of introspection where soul-baring honesty meets therapeutic benefits. You’ll discover tranquility in expressing yourself without judgment and find healing in raw authenticity.

The act transcends mere writing; it evolves into a ritual that nurtures self-awareness and growth.

Personal Writing Prompts for Personal Essays

Ize A Serene Desk Space With An Open, Vintage Leather-Bound Journal, A Brass Quill Pen Poised Above, Surrounded By Various Personal Mementos And A Softly Glowing Candle

Imagine standing on the precipice of a world rich with emotion and experience, your heart pulsing as you prepare to dive into the art of crafting personal essays.

You’re not alone in this journey; we’ll navigate together through different prompt selection techniques, unmasking secrets that will help make your writing process more intuitive and less daunting.

Don’t let writing blocks intimidate you; they’re merely bumps on this creative road we’re embarking upon – obstacles that can be overcome with a few clever strategies up our sleeves.

Prompt Selection Techniques

Choosing the right prompt isn’t always easy, but there’re techniques that can help guide your decision.

When it comes to Prompt Personalization and Selecting Inspiration, remember:

Explore your passions – What sets your heart aflame?
Use personal experiences – What stories are only yours to tell?
Consider challenges you’ve overcome – How have they shaped you?
Think about people who inspire you – Why do they move you?
Ponder on dreams or goals – How can they drive your narrative?

Now, don’t just stare at the blank page! Let these sparks ignite a firestorm of creativity within.

Remember, it’s not simply penning words; it’s capturing fragments of your soul set alight by inspiration.

Crafting Personal Essays

So, you’ve selected your perfect prompt. Now, it’s time to dive into crafting personal essays.

You must learn how to structure them effectively. Think of personal essay structures like a house – each section has its own purpose but still connects seamlessly with the others.

Begin with an engaging introduction that invites readers in, then build up with body paragraphs filled with compelling details and insights about your experiences or thoughts, and finally tie everything together in a succinct conclusion that leaves an impact.

But your work doesn’t stop there! Essay revision techniques are the spices that enrich your story’s flavor. Scrutinize every word choice, refine your tone, clarify vague ideas – revise until it feels right.

Overcoming Writing Blocks

Overcoming writer’s block can often feel like an uphill battle, but it’s not impossible! You’re capable of creating stunning narratives and memorable characters. All you need are the right motivational strategies and procrastination solutions to get those creative juices flowing again.

Consider these tips:

Create a writing schedule: Consistency is key. The more you write, the easier it becomes.
Use prompts: They’re excellent for sparking ideas.
Take breaks: After all, even your brain needs rest.
Embrace imperfections: Not every sentence has to be a masterpiece.
Find inspiration outside of writing: Read books, watch movies or simply take a walk.

Overcoming Writer’s Block With Personal Writing Prompts

Ize A Frustrated Writer'S Hand Gripping A Pen, Paper Strewn Around, A Broken Chain Symbolizing Block, And A Lightbulb Illuminating A Bunch Of Unique, Personalized Prompts

If you’re struggling with writer’s block, personal writing prompts can be a useful tool to spark your creativity. Imagine an artistic locksmith unlocking your mind’s door, releasing a river of pent-up words and ideas. That’s the power of Block Busting Strategies.

With a simple yet effective prompt, like ‘describe your childhood home’, or ‘write about a time when you felt truly alive’, you’ll find yourself diving into memories and experiences that fuel inspiration.

A single thought may ignite an explosion of imagination; this is Prompt Inspired Productivity. The pen becomes lighter in your hand as words flow freely onto the page. You’ve overcome the obstacle before you even realized it was there!

Give yourself permission to explore through personal prompts and watch as your creativity soars.

Incorporating Personal Writing Prompts in Daily Writing Practice

E Of A Desk With A Lit Lamp, An Open Diary, A Fountain Pen, A Coffee Mug, And A Scattered Deck Of Illustrated Cards Each Symbolizing Unique Writing Prompts

Incorporating these cues into your daily writing practice can provide a constant source of inspiration and keep the creative juices flowing. Prompt personalization is your secret weapon against writer’s block, transforming blank pages into canvases brimming with potential.

It’s all about daily discipline, making it a habit to dig deep within yourself for unique prompts.

Imagine this:

Waking up each morning with an eagerness to explore your inner world.
Turning everyday observations into riveting stories.
Discovering new dimensions of your creativity you didn’t know existed.
Feeling the satisfaction as you conquer one page after another.
Ending each day with a sense of accomplishment, knowing you’ve broken new ground in your craft.

Empower yourself. Unleash the writer within through personalized prompts and daily commitment.

Personal Writing Prompts for Self-Discovery

N Vintage Diary With An Ink Pen On A Rustic Wooden Table, Illuminated By A Soft, Warm Sunrise Light, Overlaid With Transparent Symbols Of A Compass, Magnifying Glass, And A Human Silhouette

Dive headfirst into the thrilling journey of exploring self-discovery prompts. You’ll unearth hidden parts of your personality and get to know yourself on a deeper level.

You’re about to embark on an intriguing adventure within your own psyche, using personal writing as your guide.

The benefits are manifold. Not only does this practice enhance your writing skills, but it also opens up avenues for introspection and self-improvement in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Exploring Self-Discovery Prompts

You’re about to embark on a journey of self-discovery with these new writing prompts. Each prompt is a stepping-stone towards understanding deeper layers of your persona, encouraging emotional catharsis. Your task is not just mere response but an interpretation that helps in your personal growth.

Imagine you’ve lost everything. What would you miss the most?
Describe your happiest childhood memory.
Write about a fear that holds you back.
How has a failure shaped who you are today?
If life was a book, what would this chapter be named?

As you grapple with these questions, remember it’s more than penning down words – it’s peeling back layers of yourself, uncovering truths hidden beneath daily routines.

This exercise isn’t just prompt interpretation; it’s finding empathy and understanding within yourself.

Benefits of Personal Writing

Through your own narratives, you’ll discover the immense benefits of expressing yourself on paper. Your pen will become more than just an instrument; it’ll transform into a powerful catalyst for emotional catharsis. Each stroke will unfurl feelings you’ve tucked away, releasing them in a raw, poignant dance across the page.

Dive deeper and you’ll unearth therapeutic benefits hidden within this personal odyssey. Writing becomes your confidante, absorbing your deepest fears and highest hopes without judgment. It’s here where healing begins to bloom, nestled within each letter inked onto the parchment.

As clarity emerges from chaos, you’ll feel lighter; freer. So get lost in the labyrinth of words – it’s not about finding an exit but understanding yourself better along the way.

Tips for Generating Your Own Personal Writing Prompts

Ize A Light Bulb Radiating Creative Energy Over An Open Blank Journal, With A Quill Pen Poised Above It, Surrounded By Various Objects Like A Coffee Cup, Potted Plant, And Personal Trinkets

In creating your own personal writing prompts, it’s crucial to consider topics that you’re passionate about. This is the first step towards prompt customization and fueling your prompt inspiration. Your passion ignites a unique perspective, sparking creativity in every word you pen.

To evoke emotion in the audience, consider these tips:

Write about what makes you tick
Explore anecdotes from your life
Discuss lessons learned or wisdom gained
Delve into your dreams and aspirations
Share stories of triumph or loss

Your voice is unique, let it shine through your words. Remember, there’s no right or wrong way to create prompts—it’s all part of the creative journey. Allow curiosity to lead and watch as profound ideas unfold onto paper.

So, you’ve discovered the power of personal writing prompts. They aren’t just tools for overcoming writer’s block, but windows into self-discovery and reflection.

Make them a part of your daily writing routine to unleash creativity like never before.

Remember, it’s always an exciting journey to generate your own prompts!

Happy writing!

17+ Great Ideas for an Essay About Yourself

Chris Drew (PhD)

Dr. Chris Drew is the founder of the Helpful Professor. He holds a PhD in education and has published over 20 articles in scholarly journals. He is the former editor of the Journal of Learning Development in Higher Education. [Image Descriptor: Photo of Chris]

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An essay about yourself should present you in a positive light, but also leave your reader with a greater understanding of what it is that makes you tick. What’s your inspiration and motivation?

In this article, I’ll give you a range of ideas to include in your essay about yourself. These ideas will show you how to tell a compelling story about who you are.

Pick one or more of these ideas and use it in your essay to improve its quality.

1. Come up with One Word about Yourself and Put it in your Title

Your essay heading sets the tone for the rest of the essay.

One way to get yourself started on the right track for your essay describing yourself is to ensure you have the one key word that describes you in the title.

How would you describe yourself in one word?

Here’s a few ways I’d describe myself:

Introverted

Now, if you need to write your essay in a way that presents you in the best way possible, then of course you’d select the one that does that!

So for me, that’d be ‘optimistic’.

I could then set my title to something like: “An Essay About Chris, the Eternal Optimist.”

Here, your reader has been introduced to the central trait I want to reinforce in the essay right away. You’ve set the tone now.

Now that you’ve used that key term at the start, make sure you follow-up by using that same term a few more times throughout the piece so that you keep it as a clear motif throughout. I’d recommend at least using it in the introduction, body and conclusion.

2. Make it Personal using Anecdotes

The difference between a good and great essay about yourself is the use of personal anecdotes.

You want your essay to stand out because it’s thoughtful and unique.

Anyone can tell a story of who they are. Anyone can say: “Here’s who I am and here’s what’s good about me.”

Not everyone can tell a detailed, thoughtful and personal story that’ll show (and not tell) people who you are.

Personal anecdotes might include:

A discussion about your ancestry;
A story about how your ancestors came to your country;
A story about how your parents came up with your childhood nickname;
An important story from your childhood;
A personal challenge that you currently face;
A personal challenge from the past that you’ve overcome

Or anything else that shows your personality! So, let’s zoom in and take a look at how you could write about each of the points from above.

3. Describe your Ancestry

Dig deep – way back. Who are your ancestors?

Two of the best questions you can ask to tell a really good story about yourself are these:

Who are your ancestors?

How did your ancestors shape who you are.

What is your connection to them?

Let’s take them one at a time.

Your ancestors might be Greek, or Scottish, or Irish, or Italian. Maybe you have some Native American ancestors or maybe they were Pioneers heading to America?

You can start this essay by explaining your ancestry to really start shaping a quality story about yourself. One example is to tell a story about how your ancestors came to your country.

For me, I’d talk about how my Ancestors were a loose collection of quirky characters who came to Australia for a better life. Some were “10 Pound Poms” – British people seeking a better life. The paid 10 pounds to get on a boat and head to a new world. And others were convicts, sent out for stealing sheep.

Is there an interesting hook about your ancestry to start your essay?

Your ancestors should mean a lot to you. They should show you the path to a better life. What sacrifices did they make for you to be who you are today?

I could talk about how they had a tough life to come from working-class backgrounds. They worked the land and battled hardship to give me what I’ve got.

Now, I’m a happy, free, relatively wealthy person because of their hard world.

Who you are is because of your ancestors.

For me, they are the reason I value hard work. I also know my grandfather fought hard for a good wage for people on the railways. So, I have a sense of solidarity with hard-working working-class people because of him.

I also believe strongly in the importance of living a free and happy life because my ancestors are Australians. We’re Aussies! We work hard and have fun. That’s something my ancestors gave me, and I’ll carry all those values forward for my children one day, too.

Can you see that telling a story of your ancestors can really reveal a lot about what’s deep inside you? They show you your values and they’re your guiding star.

4. Tell the story of how you got your Childhood Nickname

Here’s another interesting story idea that can get your essay started on the right track.

How about telling the story of how you got your childhood nickname?

Here’s an example: My sister’s nickname was Boo Boo.

(She’d be made at me if she knew I told you that!)

She was called Boo Boo because she was always hurting herself! She was always having “boo boos”, which was our slang for “mistakes”.

Here, her nickname tells a story about herself. It tells a story about how she can sometimes be a little bit clumsy. This could be a good personal story to use to introduce herself to the reader.

Do you have a unique nickname story?

5. Tell an Important Story from your Childhood

Do you have any childhood stories that really reflect who you are?

This story might be:

Tell the story of a childhood family holiday: Your story of your family holiday might highlight how important family is to your sense of who you are. Did the family holiday show you how much family is important to you?
Tell the story of a time you realized something: I remember seeing a kid at school being bullied once and feeling really uncomfortable about it. I ended up sitting with him during the lunch period because he was upset. That was the day I really realized that something deep inside me is a sense that kindness is one of the most important things in the world.

Have a think. Are there any stories from your childhood that you can tell that reveal something about who you are and what your values are?

6. Start with “When I’m old I will look back and reflect on…”

Here’s a strategy that works really well.

When you start from the perspective of someone looking back, you often reflect on the things that are most important.

Have you ever seen an older person telling a story? It’s often a story told from the perspective of wisdom . We might call this 20/20 hindsight.

So, start your story by discussing what you’ll look back on about your life: what will you be proud of? What parts of your personality would you want to reflect on with pride?

It might be:

“When I’m old I will look back and reflect on the things I did to help other people. For example, one time I … [did this]”
“When I’m old I will look back and reflect on the quality time I spent with my family. My family is the most important thing in my life. One of these quality times is when …”
Any other ideas you have?

7. Or, Start with “In ten years I will be…”

We can flip Step 6 on its head, and talk about where you want to be in 10 years. This will force you to reflect upon what’s most important to your future.

When talking about your goals and how those goals are linked to your values.

Here’s some examples:

“In ten years time I will be just returning from an amazing trip around the world. I have a strong sense of adventure and I want to spend the next 10 years fulfilling my dream of adventure.”
“In ten years time I want to be busy working in a not-for-profit doing something for people less fortunate than me. This vision drives my decisions that I make today. It drives my desire to … [study a course?]”
What will you say if you start with “In ten years time…”?

8. Describe your Interests

No matter how you start your essay, you need to make sure that your story shows what you are interested in.

Your interests are what you do in your spare time

You might, for example, be interested in a particular topic. This will show how you’re set apart from others. We all have different interests.

Here’s a few examples of people’s interests:

Dinosaurs: Ross Gellar from the TV show Friends would write in his story that one of his biggest interests is dinosaurs!
Sports: Many people put sports at the center of their interests and motivations. Are you passionate about a sport that you watch or play? This could be included in your essay about yourself.
Reading: Many young people love to read. You can talk about this as something you love, and then discuss how reading helps you think more deeply about issues in this world.

What are your interests? Could you use these as the basis of your essay about yourself?

9. Describe what Motivates You

Right at the core of your essay about yourself should be a message about your motivations. What is it that you dream about? What is it that gets you out of bed in the morning?

A motivation is different to an interest. Your interest is what you do in your part-time. Your motivations are your long-term goals that will give you fulfillmen t.

People want to see what makes you tick.

Your motivations don’t have to be for money or a career. A lot of people are deeply motivated by their passions like:

Getting fit, or pursuing fitness goals;
Being a part of a community;
Helping others out, especially the less fortunate;
Making their family proud;
Seeing amazing, remarkable things;
Inventing or discovering something that improves the world

For me, my biggest motivation is my blog. I take pride in it and how it helps people out. So maybe I’d tell the story of my blog, and how it reflects my intrinsic desire to help people learn new things.

So, what motivates you?

10. Identify your Current Personal Challenges

Teachers like to see that you are taking a proactive role to address or overcome personal challenges. So, you can base your essay about yourself on a current personal challenge.

The important thing for an essay on a current personal challenge is this:

Identify what your challenge is; and
Explain how you are working hard to address it.

Your challenge might be a personal disability, a setback you’ve recently had, or a goal that you’re working towards achieving.

Wanting to join the military: You could talk about your major challenge being a career goal like getting accepted into the military. Then, you’d need to show something about how you are addressing this by, for example, following a rigorous exercise regime.
Living with a disability: Maybe you have a disability or medical problem that you need to address. You could talk about how it hasn’t stopped you from believing in your ability to achieve. While it might make life harder, show how you’re a determined person who won’t let adversity get in your way.

By revealing how you are overcoming your challenges, you’re revealing something about yourself. You are showing your marker that you’re a hard, diligent worker. That you have resilience and drive. And that you’re someone who strives to achieve.

11. Identify the Biggest Challenge you’ve Overcome

If there’s challenges in your rear-view mirror that you have already overcome, you can also talk about that.

Pause for a moment and think about the biggest achievement of your life. Was it getting that score you wanted in a science test? Was it making it into the football team after a lot of training and practice?

By telling the story of a personal challenge that you have already overcome, you’re showing how you’re a competent, capable and resilient person.

Here’s some examples of overcoming challenges:

Winning a team sport: Talk about all the work you did as a team in the lead-up to the win. Did you take advice from the coach and use it to become better? Did you learn that you had to work as a group to succeed?
Getting an award: Were you awarded once for your skills? What did you need to do to win the award? Was it hard work that paid off?

12. Be Humble

It’s important to strike the appropriate tone for your essay about yourself.

One of the biggest mistakes people make is that they too hard to sell themselves. This usually makes you sound arrogant and self-absorbed.

One of the best ways to sound humble is to express gratitude. When discussing who you are, what you achieved and what your strengths are, remember to mention who it was who helped you get there.

People you might be grateful for include: parents, teachers, siblings, friends, your country and mentors. Talk about how they were instrumental in your success. Maybe they were patient with you, presented opportunities for you, or forgave your mistakes.

It’s also good to make sure you don’t compare yourself to others. It’s not a good idea to say “I achieved better than anyone else.” Focussing on how you worked hard for your achievements is enough: there’s no need to talk about how you’re better or the best. Focus on the effort you put in, not the fact that you’re better than anyone.

To learn more about tricks on being humble, I recommend this good summary of ways to be humble from Forbes.

13. Describe your Personality Type

Here’s another interesting way of approaching the essay.

If you’re struggling to explain yourself, you can take a quiz that tells you what your personality type is. Something really nice about these quizzes is they not only give you words to explain what your personality type is, but they also give you some ideas to talk about.

Here’s a few good personality type quizzes:

16 Personalities : This quiz decides which personality you are from 16 types, such as debater, entrepreneur, adventurer and entertainer. I got the ‘Advocate’ meaning I am driven by “idealism and morality” and am mainly an introvert. What are you? Share in the comments below!
Learning Styles : This quiz finds out how you learn. Are you the sort of person who learns in solitude or with others? Are you an introvert or extrovert? Another alternative is the VARK quiz which sees which sort of category of learner you are: Visual, Auditory (sound), Read/Write, or Kinesthetic (using your body).
Career Quiz : This quiz asks you a range of personality questions to give you ideas about what you want to talk about. Then, it’ll suggest the ideal career for you based on your personality!

14. Include Details you’d put on a CV

You want your essay to tell a story about yourself.

But you also need to include hard, solid details.

So once you’ve told your story of yourself, go through your CV (or ‘resume’) and see what else you can include. Can you include details about your strengths that you have listed on your CV?

Maybe you can also include points about your previous jobs or education achievements that you have listed on your CV.

This will help back up your story with hard evidence.

You might also find out that there are a lot of details on your CV that will give you story ideas. You might not think you’ve achieved remarkable things until you look at your CV and reflect on the hard work you put into each of the jobs or achievements you have listed there.

15. Describe your Physical Attributes

Another thing you can weave into your story is an outline of what you look like!

It’s one of the first things you read about someone in any story.

Here’s how Mr. and Mrs. Dursley in Harry Potter is introduced:

“Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours.”

How would you describe your physical attributes? Remember not to be negative about yourself, but you could describe yourself as tall, short, stocky, or lanky. How about your hair? Is it frizzy or straight, long or short?

16. Explain who is your Biggest influence and Why

The person who is your biggest influence would reveal a lot about who you are. Are you influenced by someone because of their power and strength, or wisdom and insight? Are you influenced by people for their nobility and patriotism, or their sense of adventure?

This will show your reader what makes you tick.

One of my big influences is Alex Honnold. He is a famous rock climber. What does that reveal about me? Well, it shows that I admire adventurous people and people who follow unconventional careers.

Who is your biggest influence? What does this reveal about you? Can you weave this into your essay about yourself?

17. Conclude by Returning to your Opening Hook

In this article I’ve shared with you a ton of ideas that you can use for your essay about yourself.

No matter which idea you select, I recommend including this last tip.

You should start your essay with an interesting ‘hook’ or anecdote about yourself.

I recommend concluding your essay by returning to this opening hook. We call this the ‘closing the loop’ method. You can start it something like this:

“I began this essay by telling the story of how I’m inspired by my father. I want to return to this point, as it’s the most important point in this essay. All of the points in this essay about myself have highlighted how I’m driven and motivated to live up to his amazing example. I have discussed…”

…And then you’d sum up what you discussed!

I outline the exact process of how to conclude an essay using this ‘closing the loop’ method in this post on how to write great conclusions .

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