Writing Prompts I Have Known (And Neglected)

Back before we moved I saved the A.L.M. Writes August Prompts, and I haven’t done jack about them yet. But here they are, anyway:

LAUREL LOVE CLIPARTS

Today is “dreamlike.” It’s time for literal me to come out and play! Perhaps if I did more writing prompts, I’d get a little less literal? Eh, doubtful.

I love dream sequences.  I realize that they’re the bane of editors’ (and probably agents’?) existence, but I just love them. I think a lot of writers do, otherwise there wouldn’t be an excess or a bane. I do agree they can be done poorly, or over the top, or as an easy fix in lieu of another, more difficult storytelling device. But I think readers must like them, too. Our dreams are the ultimate sharing and navel-gazing experience combined, I guess we of the oversharing age would naturally love that. And although the irritant of someone relating their boring dreams to unwilling yet captive listeners is an old and well-worn one, easily traced through books, articles, essays, and other written history, we still do it. And irritated or bored or not, we still listen.

And because I have to relate every damn thing I do back to pregnancy these days, holy shit, I was not expecting these types of dreams. They are wild! They are drenched with colors and scents and tastes and blazing whipcracks of emotions I haven’t felt in years, great ones, awful ones, whatever, pregnancy means that my brain apparently has sent out a wide-reception invite to all layers and substances of the universes, and they are all coming in to sift through my thoughts and memories like it’s a cosmic Play-Doh party.

I haven’t been writing them down afterwards, because they’re just too many. Better that I don’t. In my addled state I might start detecting some sort of pattern, something that would lead me to believe my unborn child was really a messenger from another universe–no, a messiah, prophet–sent to warn us about an impending, off-the-radar comet, and that if I didn’t start a new religion in its name we’d all die.  Hmmm. Lot of pressure, there. Better not to delve, pregnancy is stressful enough. Anyway, I’m sure the miracles with mobiles and floating cribs would manifest in a timely manner after birth.

Unrelatedly, I’m so pleased to live again in a state that recognizes Labor Day as an employer holiday.

 

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