Elizabeth: Friday Story Time and Sprints

Welcome to the 2018 and a year full of possible stories – some planned, some unexpected, but all sure to be interesting.

We’ve seen some great stories come out of our weekly Friday Writing Sprint random word lists since we started posting them a few years ago, but it seems like now might be a good time to change things up a bit and inspire a fresh batch of creativity.

For those working away on a manuscript, whether a first draft of a polished version on its way to publication, we invite you to share a bit with us on Fridays – whether it’s a scene, a paragraph, or even a phrase that you are especially pleased with.

For those without a story in progress, or those who just want to work on something new, we’ll be posting a writing prompt, loosely based on Jamie Cat Callan’s Writer’s Toolbox (why yes, I did receive this as a Christmas gift)

Sound like a plan?

Here is today’s writing prompt:

Write a story that begins:

“The racoon was bad enough, but the ferret was the last straw.”

And includes:

Marsha, the blind librarian

Whether you’re sharing a bit of your current work or writing something fresh based on the writing prompt, we hope you’ll join us for Story Time.

Happy writing to all!

3 thoughts on “Elizabeth: Friday Story Time and Sprints

  1. The raccoon was bad enough, but the ferret was the last straw. Every year — every goddam year — I got one of the Pweshus Minutes figurines for Christmas from my ex-sister-in-law. Adorable little beasties with great big eyes, begging for forgiveness for animal mishaps like spilling the milk or widdling on the floor. The ferret was sucking his thumb as he clung to a crayon next to a faux wall covered in faux-crayon hearts. Blech.

    I divorced her brother on the last day of December, and then I divorced her by phone on January first. I packed up twelve years worth of ceramic cringe-beasts, and donated the box to Marsha, the blind librarian, who thanked me and promised they’d go out on the library sale table on February 14th. And that was that. I was done.

    Then Ralph called on January third. “Hey, babe, I know you threw all my stuff out on the lawn . . . .”


    “But that cow Aggie gave you. You know, the one that had its horn caught in bicycle spokes? I need that cow.”

    “Don’t have it. Don’t call again.”

    “What? You stupid bitch!” I hung up the phone; I divorced being verbally abused, as well, but I didn’t hang up fast enough. At the tail end, I heard despair in Ralph’s voice as he moaned, “They’re going to kill me if I don’t give them . . . .”

    Give them what? Ralph had his faults, but being a drama queen was not one of them. Reluctantly, I called him back, but the phone rang until it went to voice mail. Ralph was probably on his way over. Did I owe it to him to be here, or did I owe it to myself to let Ralph run his own circus now?

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