NaNoWriMo is quickly approaching (learn more about this awesome month-long event!) and I am going through old writing prompts.
NaNoWriMo and writing groups are great reminders that writing is not a solitary experience (well, it doesn’t have to be).
So, I figured throughout the month of November while I am working on my 50,000 words, I would post some previous writing prompts I’ve done in the past — I will also try to post some new ones too — and if you’d like, you can use this in your own writing group OR share your story in the comments below. Or not.
- One person shares their prompt idea
- Write for 15 minutes
- Share your unedited story
- Others give their feedback
- Repeat process
In a world where people only see black and white up until they fall in love and then everything becomes color. Your story begins when your character goes from seeing color to only black or white. Is that too sad? Fine, from black and white to color? Whatever inspires you!
The Possibility of Color
My mom told me that when she met my dad that everything turned to color for her, but then he died soon after I was born and now she only sees in black and white. She doesn’t like to talk about it – when she could see colors. And I don’t mind either. They way she described purple always seemed sad to me. Maybe because most things she describes are sad. And I don’t want to hear about the things I can’t see either. It’s not fair that almost everyone I know can see something that I can’t.
Colors are a strange thing. Everyone has their own description of it. Like my teacher Ms. Daisy, she says orange is like a falling sun but Tommy told me that orange is a cheese sandwich. I don’t know which one to believe. The shade of them is so very different from each other and Ms. Daisy has never been in love before, so she has never actually seen the color orange – she just knows from what books tell her. So why should I believe her?
My mom told me that one day I will see color but she hopes it won’t be anytime soon. I think she wants to protect me from the pain of color. I heard it can give you headaches, and I’ve never had one of those and it doesn’t sound all that great.
Tommy who is in love with Seran said that it doesn’t give you a headache. It’s like everything you see has a story to tell. “Things aren’t made to fade in and out of our lives. They’re meant to say something! Like this banana,” he said holding the grey fruit, “This is a happy fruit! It’s saying, ‘Hey, monkeys like me! People like to slip on me. I am hilarious. You should really eat me.’ But you don’t get that Mave, do you? All you see is a sad fruit that doesn’t want to be noticed.”
He handed me the fruit and left to walk with Seran to their next class. I stared at the fruit hoping it would tell me a story.
“Mom, I don’t think I know what love is,” I confessed. She was crocheting a new blanket. The pattern was a chevron, one of my favorites. She smiled, “Oh, is that so? Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense to me. How do you know if you’re truly in love?”
“When you see color.”
“But, what if I love someone and I still see black and white?”
She put her needle down and looked at her work in progress. I realized that she had loved once and now she only sees in black and white. But this was different. I loved Tommy, or at least I think I did, but I didn’t see color.
“I am going to make some oatmeal. Do you want any?”
The conversation was done. I knew that was my cue. “Sure, can you add the sugar? The coarser sugar?”