One line exercises

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

A collection of one line exercises. In most cases, this is a phrase or single line intended to provoke a story - so go ahead, find one that makes your muse jump, and write!

Comments

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

originally posted: Fri, 25 Sep 1998 08:42:03 -0400

Get on your starting line . . .

and that line is:

You built a bridge on broken dreams.

Get ready.

Let the little gray cells cogitate. What kind of bridge is it? The Brooklyn Bridge, Golden Gate, a rainbow for the Valkyries, perhaps something spun of spider webs and morning dew... and what of the dreams? Are they fine iridescent shards like the remains of soap bubbles? Or are they dank gray fog and mud, dragging footsteps to a halt?

And... write!

[They're out of the starting gate... there's a lot of scribbling over on the heart side... wait a minute, I think I see a paragraph breaking out of the pack on the prose side... one of the poets is throwing line breaks, I'm not sure how long he can keep that up...]

(If you're not sure, the point here is to use that starting line either directly or indirectly, and write something. Be reading you!)

something there is that doesn't love a wall...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Originally posted: Fri, 19 Jun 1998 12:36:32 -0400

on your mark

A quick short start:

In Glenhaven, it's legal once a year. That's when all the trouble started.

start with that, mix well with your own creations, shake bake chill and serve when ready...

write!

a first line in need

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original posting: Mon, 15 Jun 1998 08:57:36 -0400

I'm not quite sure where this will go, but perhaps one of you will recognize the story and fill it in. The first line is:

The corpse lay on the floor, a strawberry clenched in its teeth.

For anyone who is wondering, you're free to start with this line and put whatever story seems right to you after it.

The Baby Blues...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Originally posted: Tue, 13 Jan 1998 10:53:03 EST

The start of the tale:

I had just had a baby.
Strangers would walk by, look at the kid, and say, "My condolences."

Let your neurons wiggle and giggle and tickle inside...and WRITE!

TipToe In the Tidepools With Me?

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original Posting: Tue, 25 Nov 1997 19:53:28 EST

Now, your task, should you feel the breath of the muse whistling up your robe (or down your collar, or maybe in your ear--different muses blow hot and cold ruses, they say:), is to explicate this:

The squish of wet sand between winter toes

First line of a moep? Perhaps the title for your tale of the morgue rue? Or...

Let's see what your muse says!

Can You Read This?

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

original posting: Fri, 22 Nov 1996 12:27:48 EST

Grabbing a moment between meetings (yesterday's ran from 12 to 8, I spent a chunk of my evening writing up notes, and we resumed again today at 10...my apologies, but the list and other conspiracies aren't getting my full attention right this moment while I contemplate the benefits of eugenics in controlling meeting attendees or some such...)

A quicky, in horror of our situation recently:

I asked you an unheard question

Please feel free to forge and follow, rhyme and unscan, or whatever work of witty wordiness meets your desire. I.e., take that line and write, write, write...

later!

(and the buffoon spins another time in the darkness on the stage, little noting that the audience has shut their eyes, and the spotlight has slid sadly akilter...:-(

CHALLENGE? A Quick One...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original Posting: Fri, 15 Nov 1996 08:18:01 EST

Last weekend, while acting as chauffeur for visitors, this line bobbed gently into my mind (we were on Beacon Hill, looking at the houses, if that makes a difference). I stopped the car, took paper and pencil in hand, and wrote it down before it could slip away...but sadly, nothing else has wandered over to join it during the hectic week that followed. So I'll give you the chance to put your words in line after:

You offered me a bowl of dried tears

Could be the first line of a story, might make something spark in the poetic vein, could even be a line for an essay (or maybe a musing? we shall see, we shall see).

oh, yes. you may begin now...

Hmm, Not Bad.

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original posting: Tue, 29 Oct 1996 00:14:06 EST

I CAN'T SEE YOU!

Alright, let's get those writer's muscles flabbing! Here we have the story (a group of hikers encounters a woman dressed in glory...SHOW me, please?) , and the challenge (kick those elderly neighbors' love life in the pantaloonies)

come one, come all, let's write!

Running Start?

The hills were alive with the sounds of fall that day, the thrashing of dried leaves in breezes, the crack of sticks underfoot, and the muted moistness as hiking boots mashed the mat of damp leaves.

Go! Here's your very own baton, hold it with both hands so you don't drop it, and show us what happened out there in the woods that day.

Write!

A Few Words

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

original posting: Fri, 12 Jan 1996 16:06:23 EST

When the pulsing glow settled to the ground and faded in front ofmy car that night, it was hard to tell who was more surprised, me or it.

Who is it? UFO, angel, fairy, transuniversal impulse of emotional depth...or something really unusual?

And...write, write, write...you can take this beginning and go on to an ending!

a few words...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original posting: December 12, 1995

just a few words to get the keyboards pumping...

"Did you miss me?" she asked and tore open the envelope.

who is she? who is she talking to? why this question?

what lurks in the depths of the envelope?

[newcomers, listcombers, even sandy beaches...take the line above. use it to start--even jumpstart!--your own writing, and let the little tails wiggle where they will...your choice as to whether or not to post the results, based on your hard-headed judgment...]

if you would prefer, here's a slightly different one...

The day's ration of rose oil puddled in a crystal glass.

to words, to words, fly fair thoughts and little wordsmiths
up on gilded dreams of rainbow hues and sparkling sunbeams...

[as back to earth plummet singed wings dripping wax...
I'm late, I'm late, but meetings will have to wait!]

I'm Late, I'm Late...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

whoops! as someone mentioned, it's fieday, and I forgot...well, let us say that the excitement and thrills of work made me lose track of the time...i.e., today has not been the best of all possible days, although I will probably be thankful when it is over...

fieday? fee, fi, foo, fum, I spill words across the fiedom?

okay, try this opener:

When it started, I didn't really think I'd like him.
Afterwards, of course, everything had changed.

and off they go, twisting and turning, meanings spilling across metaphors, images popping off the bulkheads, letters and punctuation gone wild on their screens!

[if you haven't done this before--start your story or other wordy wonder with the opening section given above. Go on until you find an ending. Stop.]

EEK! I've got to go save the world--or at least re-install some systems.

read you later!

and sorry about the delay, thanks for noticing, may the great bird of the universe dedicate an egg to you!

From Here To There...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

He took a wake-up call that day that changed his life.

Since the world seems to like quick and quirky problems, here we go! Just take that sentence, ponder on who he is, where and what might be his "wake-up" call, stir well with your creative buds and other muserly spices, and let the fingers do the writing on the silver screen (papyrus, what have you).

[is there a wrong way to do this? not really. can I write a poem or essay or frictive phantasy or a joke or a...? yes, that's fine. can I...? YES, YOU CAN!]

WRITE!

Whirrrrrrrrrr...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original posting: Oct. 10, 1995

[maybe I can give up sleeping? sure, that would get me at least an hour or two more each day...]

In my magic mirror, I see lots of shiny new faces...and plenty of grimy little repeat offenders, too. Hello to one and all, welcome to the list where words never stop, although they may limp a little. Sometimes.

Shall we see what we can do today, class?

Suppose we started with this little bitty piece of prose:

They looked in the window, choked, and hurried away in shock.

Now, you might have some notions about who "they" are. You might even have an idea what kind of window it is. And I'm sure you have some fiendishly wicked notions of what is inside that makes them choke and run...

So, take a little bit of time and expand the tale. Don't forget to build in all the pits and beaches that make up a grand tale--characterization, conflict, dramatic personification of inanimus, perhaps a flair for the absurd? Anyway, make it a tale full of marvels!

[you say you want to know what's buried in the closet? are you sure you are ready? really? positively? well, you think about it, okay?]

Write!

One More Line!

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

[write it again, sam? well, it could have been any list, but...]

"Teach your children joy," she said, and sealed the envelope.

[what? you think that a frog would stick out its tongue at that bait? a horned toad turn an eye toward that movement? no way will a cat snaffle its claws in the fabric of that rotting plot...]

But, with a little dab of instant inspiration, a generous rub of musing lamps, and similar touches of workmanship--you can write your tale and have it, too!

So, get to the letters, now!

Write, write, write!

Another One Sentence Blunder!

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

[okay, the three day novelists are hot to write, the poets are ready to rhyme and rholl, and the words are just aching to *p*o*p* out of your screen at the touch of the keyboard--or slip across the paper at the touch of your pen, pencil, crayon, quill, or other implement of inscription...so here's a drop of inspiration!]

"Never again," he said, and flipped the switch.

Take that sentence.

Let your "little grey cells" ponder--who is he talking to? What does the switch control? Did he flip it on--or off? What happened then?

And...write about it! Fill in the scenery; retort, repartee, repine, and otherwise reply to the oration; plot a wicked conflict of emotions, relationships, and goals fit for an afternoon soap; and make those characters bent, bold, and mutated!

You may use the sentence at the beginning, the end, or anywhere else. You need not even use it!

Just write.

And if you come up with something you would like to share with the rest of us--post it!

"Never again," he said, and flipped the switch.

After that, it's up to you.

*look at those words rolling!*

Three Words?

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

[ho, boy, am I running late, busy, and hectic! so...]

Silently, they waited.

There's the sentence.

Let it roll around in your mind a while.

Let the shivering psyche reflect on who they may be--and what they may be waiting for.

And...

Write! Two, three, four.
Write! one line more.
Write! more and more.
Write!

YEAH!!!!

Now revise it, polish it, and post in the list, that three words gave birth to this!

A story!

A poetry!

A essayry!

(oops!)

Whatever, make those words work!

And all it took...
softly...gently...was three little words.

Silently, they waited.

GO!

Ancient, It Waits...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

[WARNING! MAY IRRITATE NIGHTMARES AND OTHER TERRORS OF THE NIGHT!
if we're lucky...]

[ohoh! shiver, shake, and don't blink, here it comes...]

Start with this sentence:

What waited there was powerful and hungry and alive, alive, wild and fierce and old and strange--

[taken from p. 32 of Wild Blood by Anne Logston. For some reason, this sentence jumped out at me and said WRITE!...]

Go on from there.

Let that fear in your fingers out. Let the sweat stand cold on the back of your neck. Let the heart rate jump...and slowly stop.

Yes, fiends and scabblers, let us wiggle, let us waggle, let us feel those hooks sinking deeper and deeper into racial pits of unsleeping dread...

deeper...

deeper...

scraping and straining into the depths...

until...

SCREAMS erupt as a paw slaps down on our shoulder...

breath stops as the dark rises over our heads...

and ears strain to hear as blood bubbles out of throats trying to give their final warning a half-second after the claws ripped across them...

[eeeh! I'm going to hide under the covers.]

Ah, yes, let's see...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

[whoops! today was Friday! and I forgot to lead the world of writers in a rousing little exercise...obsessive-compulsive rituals challenging the chaos outside...]

Write this way, please, your keyboard is waiting...

"I don't want to remember," she said, and closed the door.

That's the sentence for today!

Grunt, splinter, and mutate at your pleasure, we await the words you measure.

Go!

[It was a shard of fractal fiction, tossed on the beach by better writers, waiting for the low ebb of spirits to dash it aground in the sand...but it was words to me!]

keep those letters pounding!

"One, seven, three..."

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original posting: Fri, 4 Aug 1995 09:38:18 EDT

Okay--I'm behind again, short on time, and rushing, so...

Take this sentence:

"One, seven, three..." he said, and died.

Write about it. Who is he? Why and how did he die? What does this cryptic message mean (if anything)?

You probably want at least two characters (besides the corpus delecti). What is their relationship to the deceased? To each other? To whatever is behind those cryptic numbers?

And the keys are flying, the notions trying, the synapses popping!

It's writers at work!

*groan--later!*

Fragrant Incense

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

original posting: Fri, 7 Jul 1995 11:26:35 EDT

[I'm a bit shy of time today, so this will be short...]

"I'll have to kill you to protect the honor of my house."

Step right up, sit down at your keyboard, and let fly. There's the sentence, just finish the tale.

Use it as a starting gun, setting off the race to the end.

Or, if you prefer, use it as the final marker, where the reader trips and goes flying wildly out into life...as it never was and never should have been.

You may bend, staple, or mutilate as needed.

Just sit right down and write a tale,
a tale of a mighty hero (or heroine),
who ventured into murder
all for the honor of a house...

EXERCISE: A line in time?

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original posting 6 September 2007

'saright, let's see. This one has been poking at me, so . . .

I burnt my lips gently, sipping moonight last night,

There you are. Feel free to use it as the starting line of something, as a crystal that gets discarded later, or whatever. Even put quotes around it and stretch it out a bit, or perhaps split it up and see where that goes.

And the world will be better for this,
That those writers scribbled and wrote :-)

tinking about you