Happy Friday or, according to my Calendar of Days, happy Cheeseburger Day. Yesterday was National Monty Cristo Day–one of my favorite sandwiches. Had I only known, I’d have rustled one up, though my BLT made with applewood smoked bacon and heirloom tomatoes was an excellent substitute.
I often wonder where all of the “National Day of . . .” ideas come from and why some days seem to be overflowing with things to celebrate while others have very little. Friday also appears to be Hug Your Boss Day, which is hardly likely to be popular in the midst of the pandemic. Saturday is the popular Talk Like A Pirate Day. The local doughnut shop normally offers a free doughnut to anyone who orders in pirate-speak that day, but I’m guessing not this year when it has been such a challenge to just stay in business.
My week has been full of meetings–I’ve got to stop giving people my phone number/email address–and virtual conferences. The most recent conference was so tedious I had to keep getting up and jogging in place to avoid dozing off. Fortunately I did not have my camera turned on for that. It’s amazing how many conference sessions and meetings could be much more effectively replaced with a good PowerPoint deck or a brief email. Ah well, at least I only had to attend the conference, not organize it.
It is now evening here and I’m currently typing this post from my living room where I can see a family of raccoons out on my back deck. There is a water bowl out there that had been the cat’s and the raccoons are alternately drinking from it and standing in it; knocking each other out of the way and acting like they are auditioning for a TV wrestling show. They look like happy, fluffy bandits and when I make meowing sounds, they come up to the door and look in quizzically. Very cute. Judging from all of the thumping I hear late at night, they appear to be living under my back deck, as is a family of possums. It’s a regular wild-animal kingdom around here.
I’m looking forward to a Zoom-free weekend with, fingers crossed, clear air and blue skies. I have nothing planned other than kicking things off with today’s writing prompt and random words.
Care to join me?
For those of you working away on a story (whether a first draft or a polished version on its way to publication), if you’re not feeling random, we’d love to hear a bit – whether it’s a scene, a paragraph, or even a phrase that you are especially pleased with and would like to share.
If you don’t have a story in progress, or just want to work on something new, I hope either today’s random words or writing prompt will catch your creative fancy.
Ready?
What if: “Your character is planning a surprise party?
Feel free to interpret the “What” any way you choose (or ignore it completely) and include any (or all) of the following random words:
energy daughter fetish believe
prefab bronze box gargoyle
harmony drunken terrific affordable
rival ocean hat warrior
I look forward to seeing your stories in the comments. If you’re not feeling in the writing mood today, or don’t have time, feel free to post suggestions you might have for future “what-if” prompts. Ideas are always welcome.
Happy writing to all!
Eight Ladies Writing 
Argh! Well, I got a sprint written in twelve minutes—not my record, but pretty close. Of course, it makes no sense and has nothing to do with a surprise party, but I got all the words in and I’m pretty sure there’s at least a couple of nouns and verbs in there.
Have fun in your Zoom-free weekend, Elizabeth!
The Surprise Party
“I believe that your daughter has the energy of a drunken gargoyle,” said my irritating husband, who like always, was wearing his judgmental hat.
“How come she’s my daughter when you’re mad at her?” I asked. “You couldn’t once strive for harmony in the world?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He looked out at the ocean, which was a terrific view, I had to admit. We’d bought our place eons ago when California real estate was a lot more affordable than it is now. Our place, a nice prefab box painted in strong a strong bronze color, wouldn’t rival Tom Cruise’s place just down the street, but it was our little slice of beachfront heaven.
“What’s that asshole doing?” my husband asked. He pointed to a walker who’d tossed some paper onto the sand. My husband, the warrior with a litter fetish.
“Get on it,” I said. “Those whales need you.”
Twelve minutes? I am in awe. It takes me that long just to find a comfortable writing position.
I loved that “How come she’s my daughter when you’re mad at her?” line. That is so true to life, and a “warrior with a litter fetish” is right up my alley.