Tag Archives: writingprompt

Happy 2025

Posted on by vgemmell

I was lucky enough to extend my festive holiday this year and flew off to sunny skies just as my office was re-opening. A dose of sunshine and relaxation was the perfect way to recharge and have space to reflect on my writing and what I want to achieve in 2025.

I often find when I’m away from everyday life the creative and ‘ideas’ side of my brain really wakes up. I even managed to ‘type’ a short story in my phone while I was sitting out on my balcony in the sun. Having space to think properly also allowed me to reflect on how I could use my blog here in a bit more of a consistent and creative way.

A lot of young people (and adults!) I come into contact with who have an interest in writing are yet to find supportive communities, and don’t know where to start when delving into the world of writing.

Often when I do school or community workshops I’m asked questions around the practical side of writing, as well as my own experiences and how I have approached things.  I realised there is a lot I could write about on here, starting with where my writing journey began, and all of the different experiences and creative projects/competitions/workshops I have found to be helpful along the way.

I am no expert by any means within the industry, or a big success, but what I’ve had are real experiences – mostly good, sometimes deflating- over a large period of my life, a lot of which I was lucky enough to be introduced to thanks to being immersed in a supportive writing community (which started with a supportive writing Mum).

Over the years I’ve submitted short stories to competitions/journals, and then started to pitch books to a range of agents/publishers, met with them face to face, made it to publication then changed course so had to go back out on submission; had zoom pitches, a chat with an editor when I made the final seven in a big competition. I’ve faced numerous rejections, been ghosted, and most recently delved into independent publishing. I’ve attended writing festivals/workshops/talks/retreats, absorbed advice from top authors, agents, publishers and other writers of all levels of experience.

After my first book was released I started to deliver creative writing workshops and talks in schools, libraries, community venues, small book festivals, rooms to an audience of three… Adjudicated competitions for writing groups, bigger conferences (and even adapted my workshop to an online version during an unexpected lockdown!). I’ve organised in-person and online book launches, written press releases, been interviewed for a magazine and over the phone by a journalist.

I’ve kept my creative momentum going by setting myself numerous silly and engaging creative challenges over the years, which is good to remind myself about, as often when writing starts to feel too serious/stressful it’s good to take some time out to remember how to be creative. I know a massive challenge of any creative is staying motivated.

That was a bit of a brain dump list but introduces some themes I hope to focus on.

I remember reading once that writing should be treated like an apprenticeship; that it’s a journey of learning. I started my ‘apprenticeship’ way back in primary school and I am still very much learning. Every new writing project I start, I want to be better.

This year I hope to start a new type of writing project, and plan to go back out on submission again to try to secure an agent, which I am sure will bring a whole lot of new experiences and learning.

You can get all of my posts into your email inbox if you subscribe (on my homepage).

I plan to give honest insights into the behind the scenes of what a writing life for me has looked like so far (and new experiences going forward), with links to any interesting groups or writing related sites/comps I come across.

The first post will be going live next week.

Wishing you lots of success in your own writing this year, and just a reminder it’s okay not to feel dynamic in January. If you are still Wintering, take that time to relax and recharge!

I play the drums

Posted on by vgemmell
Pixabay image by Silent Pilot

When a post arrives late on here that’s an indication it has been a day where I am struggling to fit in time to write, but here I am, after a busy day/evening, turning up to my laptop and getting some words down!

Today’s prompt is ‘Imagine a day living as someone else’ I’ve turned this into a bit of a creative exercise and imagined myself doing a job that appeals to me, and then written a little creative piece around it. The first one is a bit of a cheat in that I stole the lines from one of my flash fiction piece’s in progress. The rest is fresh out of my head this evening!

I play the drums

I am the boom that makes you want to dance, wave your arms and feel the magic that takes you outside of yourself then inside yourself until all of your nerve endings are electric vibrations circling the air that hover long after the applause dulls and long after the hall empties.

I photograph life

I am capturing the first of the light, and the last of the night, and strangers and buildings you rush past every day in the street. I am showing you beauty that you were too pre-occupied to notice on first glance. But now that you see it framed in a suspended moment I make you look, make you see, and now you catch your breath in wonder.

I am a successful artist in New York

As you wander around my warehouse apartment you comment on the brick effect walls and admire one of my paintings that is hanging beside the bookcase and you ask if it’s for sale and I tell you that you can’t afford me and you laugh, thinking I’m joking but I’m not. You pour me a prosecco and I take a sip, turning back to my easel to put the finishing touches to my latest piece and you ask if you can get a sneak preview and I wonder if you remember the first time I showed you my work and you told me it was charming, but not  to give up the day job, as to really make it here you have to have real talent.

Now this is my day job and every time you drop by and ask me how I’m doing I wonder if you are secretly waiting for me to unravel.

I am a top real estate agent

As I show you around the ten bedroom mansion you walk out onto the terrace and marvel at the view over the city. You tell me about a new film you’re about to work on and how you want somewhere beautiful to come home to and how you could picture yourself sitting out here in the morning eating breakfast, and late at night sipping a beer. There is no mention of moving here with someone, anyone, and I know you are currently going through your fifth divorce. You ask for one last wander around, and you linger again on the terrace, staring out at the city below and I think maybe you’re just as lonely and sad as the girl I passed on the way here, shaking her cup, asking for someone to fill it.

6 word poetry

Posted on by vgemmell
Pixabay image by Venrike

I’m resorting to another 6 word prompt this evening as I’m quite tired and don’t have the brain power for a thought provoking essay type post today.

I’ve already done the 6 word story and memoir, so this evening it’s the 6 word poem.

When my husband, Chris, asked me what prompt I was going to choose this evening I said he should get involved too and so when we went out a wee stroll after dinner, (in the dark, as you do), he came up with a couple of 6 word poems also, and I told him they’d be going in my post to make up for my feeble attempts.

So here’s Chris’s 6 word poems which I have called Ode to Winter:

Cold winter mornings, warm bed, sleepyhead

Melancholy before holly, then feeling jolly

And here are mine:

Ode to my bath

Soak my bones, soothe my soul

Ode to Chocolate

Stop tempting me with your swirl

Ode to Winter

Eternal darkness. Look up! Stars wink

Ode to Fame

After the encore you’re home alone

The Opposite of Cake

Posted on by vgemmell
Pixabay image by Rotten77

Skipping ahead to prompt 13 on the list, ‘What is the opposite of cake’ as I thought this is probably one of the most random ones and I need to be creative here. (Also, it’s Bake Off night, which I will now be watching on catch-up!). I delivered an enjoyable flash fiction workshop this afternoon at Erskine Writers and the fact this post has turned into a flash fiction piece shows how much I enjoy the form.

When I was thinking about the opposite of cake, my immediate thought was salad. I decided to ask the internet what it thought, and it took me to Thesarus.plus which gave me this list of ‘Cake Atonyms’ (Atonym is defined as: a word opposite in meaning to another)

 bear · beast · chore · headache · horror show · killer · labour · murder. pain.

All quite dramatic, and I guess thesarus is thinking of cake in terms of phrases such as ‘piece of cake’ and ‘have your cake and eat it’. Anyway, here’s what these words sparked off in my brain:

The Opposite of Cake

I was promised cake at this party. I half-starved myself on salad and crackers earlier today and all I can see are canapes the size of my pinkie getting distributed around the room. One of the waiters who is serving reminds me of a bear – he’s about six foot tall, massive shoulders, fuzzy beard. He catches me staring and thrusts a tray of mini pastry-somethings under my nose and I take three and stuff them in my mouth all at once, just as Jeremy turns his head and catches my eye, and nudges his new fiancé to turn around too. So now they’re both smiling and walking towards me and I’m trying to desperately deflate my hamster cheeks so I can smile back and look like I’m having a GREAT TIME.

“Frances, so lovely to see you.” Saffron shakes my hand, but it’s more of a grab my fingers and cling kind of gesture and I find myself squeezing her thumb awkwardly and I’m already eyeing the free bar fantasising about the headache it’s going to give me. Saffron runs a manicured hand down my jacket sleeve, eyeing the pattern curiously. “Gosh, this feels divine. Is it a Westwood?” Jeremy is adjusting his bow tie beside her, his smile straining and I know he wants me to lie.

“No, it’s a Tumu,” I reply, enjoying the confusion on both of their faces.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of them,” she says.

“Really, they’re quite awful. Fans of child labour, and often pilfer your credit card details. But I’m a sucker for pretty patterns, what can I say.”

Jeremy looks like he wants to murder me and Saffron pauses, considering if I’m being serious, then decides I can’t possibly be and hee- haw laughs me over to meet her friends, who are all wearing badges with the new company logo. I realise with a startle that must have been what the boy at the door was trying to give me, and he wasn’t actually slipping me a tip to take his coat.

I try to join in with the small talk but I prefer big talk so I wander off to the bar and then peruse the tables of tiny sandwiches and sushi. Still no cake.

Jeremy clambers up to the make-shift stage with Saffron by his side and they give me a name-check, to thank me for my initial involvement in the ideas stage of the app, when I was Jeremy’s fiancé and Saffron was the face of the health and well-being marketing strategy, after investing a heavy amount of her family money into the start-up.

The start-up has now taken off. Jeremy also took off. And really it was for the best because he looks at home here, whereas I’d rather actually be at home, doing the chores even, anything to take me away from this pompous horror show of well-groomed ‘rising stars’ I don’t want to talk to.

Five drinks down I corner Jeremy and he looks scared, like I’m some crazed killer.

“Relax,” I hold up a hand, realising he thinks I’m upset about them and the company when he should know their pay-off was enough to sweeten any lingering pain. “I was just wondering where is the cake? You promised me cake.”

Jeremy lets out a shrill laugh, his body deflating with relief. “Did I? Oh, sorry. Saffron is gluten and sugar-free so we decided to spend the cake money on the badges instead. Aren’t they cute?” He’s pinned his in the middle of his bow tie and now I feel like grabbing the badge and murdering him with it.

He pats me on the shoulder then walks off and that’s it, the party is over. I look up to see the waiter from earlier beckoning me towards the kitchen.

I flash him a confused smile, curiosity making me follow. He is standing by an open fridge, and inside is the most magnificent chocolate cake, with a mutilated couple dancing on top.

“It’s supposed to be Beauty and the Beast, but that part didn’t quite work out.” He makes a face. “I run a cake decorating class here on Tuesday nights. I heard you talking about the lack of cake…”

And then we’re sitting sampling the sweetness and he makes me laugh, and I think how Jeremy and Saffron and this whole night has been the opposite of cake, right up until this moment. The waiter cuts me another slice and I bask in the sugar high.

Sometimes we’re friends (a love letter to my body)

Posted on by vgemmell

The clue is in the title for today’s writing prompt. A personal post I wasn’t sure how to write, or how personal to get with it! But here’s the attempt below. The above image is by Adina Voicu (free for use on Pixabay)

We’ve had good times when we danced all night, walked for miles across cities that made me feel alive and connected. Dressed up, grew up, threw up, got tired, felt alive, felt self-conscious, felt betrayed, felt loved, understood what we wanted, asked for what we wanted, dressed up for them… then for us, only for us, to feel good.

You taught me that the millions of ‘miracle’ cosmetics trying to sell magic are garbage. With me and you, it’s hormones and genetics, and some decades I’m lucky and we’re balanced and in harmony, and sometimes things go off kilter and I don’t like you, because it feels like you’re fighting against me.

These days sometimes we’re definitely not friends – you seem to enjoy showing me any indulgent meal or snacks I’ve eaten, like you’re lecturing me, even although I’ve just given you salad and other healthy stuff for breakfast and lunch. You used to accept that pay- off but now you like to add on every chocolate bar to another wobble in my ass, and I take you on longer walks to try and placate you. Don’t get me started on the mornings when I look in the mirror and see the work you’ve done on my face overnight, spots erupting from nowhere. Seriously, what are we, seventeen again? At least now, I’m more in tune with what’s going on and I know this week you’re going to mess with me, but by next week we should be on track again. Maybe.

This year you really did a number on me, on the run-up to a day where the whole world (or so it felt) was waiting to see how beautiful we might be. Giving me skin allergies where my eyes puffed up so bad I didn’t recognise myself in the mirror. When a doctor told me, not once, but twice (during a standard appointment) that I was overweight. And I looked at you objectively, critically, and the curves I’d accepted as something new, no longer looked so pretty.

But here’s what you’ve taught me – to be sure of myself, even when I’m really not. Sometimes it feels like I’m back being seventeen, but at least now, me and you, we’ve been through so much, and you’ve taught me my worth. It really is deeper than skin.

You take me where I need to go. We can still dance all night, and walk for miles across cities that make me feel alive.

And when I look at you I see all of the imperfections but I also see the power and the beauty of being me.

Resignation

Posted on by vgemmell

Today’s writing prompt is to take a negative comment and flip it into an essay or post. This was a tough one as I debated for a while about what to focus on here. My post below is about an experience I had nearly twenty years ago (eek), and the only people who would know who I’m talking about will be those who also worked with this guy, or who are in my life and know my work history! (googling his name I discovered he featured in a Bad Bosses Tv investigation a few years ago, so I’m sure this post will be very light-hearted in comparison!)

Dear Boss I thought only existed in 80s films,

That day you called me into your office when I was twenty-four for my ‘exit interview’ was a positive turning point in my life.

There you were…the boss who banned all holidays during a ‘launch’ period, paid us a pittance, boasted about your gold lined jackets, sent me on wild goose chases to costume shops, made chauvinistic comments to female employees, loved to sit in our airless/windowless office chain smoking when the smoking ban was already in place, had a gun sitting on your desk facing me and two other employees when we visited you at head office, greeting us with the comment; ‘It might be a toy, but it might not be. Hahaha…’

You were reading over my resignation letter, then reading through my CV (which you must have trolled through the HR files for), just so you could scan down it and smirk and say, ‘Well, what exactly are you going to do with your life? You’ve not exactly got a stellar career behind you. What kind of job do you think you’re going to walk in to after this?’

‘I have it all planned out thanks.’ I knew your style by now and I knew you were trying to intimidate and belittle me, and I was ready for you. What I really wanted to say was I am leaving because you are a bully, you treat your staff with no respect, your wages are laughable and that big idea you are trying to launch is about to fall flat on its face (and it did, three months later, and our local office shut).

Then you flashed me a bigger smirk (and this fleeting hobby was not on my CV so I can only wonder what kinds of conversations you were having with some of the male staff), ‘I mean what are you going to do, become a professional belly dancer?’

It was at this point I stood up and told you that our conversation was over and that you had my letter of resignation and I was working my notice and then I walked out.

You showed me something that day – that I had a choice. I had the power to walk away from men like you and walk out of the room as a way of silencing you.

And your comment, ‘you don’t exactly have a stellar career behind you.’ No I didn’t, because when I graduated from University at twenty-one I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do but during the worst days in your weird company it drove me to self-reflect and actually figure out what direction to take.

And I never looked back. That same year I enrolled on a postgraduate course, became a qualified careers adviser, secured a job before graduation, and went on to have a wee bit of writing success too.

Today when I hear stories from clients about horrible bosses and insufferable workplaces I nod in sympathy because I always think about you, and when I listen to my clients talk about their experience I think to myself, they’ve brought you here, and it’s making you want change and that’s a good thing  because hopefully then it will lead on to so many better and bigger things.

Recipe for life

Posted on by vgemmell

Stayed curious about life, loved greatly

A short post tonight, as the writing prompt for today is to write a 6 word memoir. My words above I think are the perfect recipe for life. Staying curious encourages me to seek out interesting things – interesting people, conversations, books, films, places, theories. Staying curious keeps ideas spinning in my head, and keeps me motivated to form them into stories in an attempt to make sense of them. And I don’t think I need to explain the importance of love (and I mean in the wider sense, not just romantic love). What would any experience be, without having people you love be part of them.

I’ve used the image of a pendant I was gifted as it fits into the short memoir theme, though of course is 7 words, not 6, but good words to also live life by: she believed she could, so she did

A big chunk of self belief can take you places…