Writing Prompt – Violin
In last week’s writing class, we used The Storymatic to create a writing prompt. Our leader picked four cards, and then we wrote for fifteen minutes.
The fun part of this session was that we all used the same prompt. At the end, we went around the room and read what we wrote.
Some people chose to write in their usual genre, while others tested the waters. The amazing thing was that each story was drastically different. Afterward, I thought about how daunting it is to see other stories with similar titles or premises. It feels like everything has been done. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s ever thought, why bother.
However, as this session shows, we bring our own nuances and history to our writing thereby making it unique. The next time you feel daunted, write your story anyway. Put your heart into it. Don’t be afraid to go deep. Try to twist it or play with alternative plot points. Your story will be special, just like you.
Below is what I wrote from the prompt. (Slacker, person in love, violin, bad directions). Feel free to do the same exercise.
*Please keep in mind this was a free-write piece. It hasn’t been edited. It’s not about perfection. It’s about working your creative muscles. Editing can come later.
Sharon showed up for her violin lesson ten minutes early and sat in the car outside Mrs. Turnbull’s brick ranch listening to music. She closed her eyes and let the sounds of the orchestra take her away. It was like she was floating off to another land. One in which Brian knew her name instead of just person seated in A15.
In this other land, she wasn’t in the audience, instead she was there beside Brian, playing every bit as good. Maybe a little better. Brian would be impressed, ask her out. They’d practice together. Get married. It was fate.
Sharon had it all mapped out. All she had to do now was learn to play violin, and then try out next season. Her perfect life could wait a couple of months.
She practiced playing air violin with the next song. She wanted to make sure she had the look down. Know how to feel the music.
She was so entranced she didn’t notice a lady walk up to the car. The knock on the window startled her. An older woman with an apron on motioned for her to roll down the window.
“Why are you sitting in my driveway?
Sharon looked around confused. “Waiting for my violin practice to start. Are you ready for me?”
“You have the wrong house.”
“You’re not Mrs. Turnbull?”
The lady shook her head.
“Isn’t this 152 Apple Orchard Drive?”
The lady shook her head again. “This is 251 Apple Orchard Lane.”
Sharon said her thanks, then backed out of the driveway. It was now two o’clock. Well, she was already late, so no need to speed. She turned back up the volume. She might have to add a week to her timeline.