Prompt: Write about something that is or becomes invisible.

Prompt: Write about something that is fragile.

Fragile is the heart. Easily chipped by hurtful words, fractured by loss, and broken open by vulnerability. Eventually put back together, beating, as a delicate mosaic of life.

Prompt: Write a song (yes, a song) dedicated to your haters, literal or figurative, complete with a chorus, bridge, and verses.

CORNERING THE PEN MARKET IN 1966
(in response to "Paperback Writer" by the Beatles)

Everyone needs a hobby
A hobby
A hobby
Everyone needs a hobby
You should get one too.

For years I've been prolific 
Prolific 
Prolific
For years I've been prolific
My books they sell so well.

And then the problems came
What to do with all that cash
You writers ask about the cash  
As if it is no problem.
What would you do but invest the cash 
To make more cash 
To make more cash 
Invest it in tools of our trade 
Bic, Pentel, Cross, Sheaffer, Montblanc.
It's my hobby 
My hobby 
Collecting is a hobby.

So fewer writers means more for me
More cash for me
More cash for me
In spite of nasty poets 
And essayists who moan
Solution's simple - 
Use pencils
Use pencils
Solution's simple -
Use pencils 
Use pencils
Solutions's simple-
Use pencils 
Use pencils

Prompt: What is one of your core beliefs? Write a piece about how you came to have it.

When my siblings and I were little, my mom always reminded us of our responsibility to people in need. Really, before we could even tie our shoes, we knew that if someone was in trouble and we could help, it was our job to do so. With hindsight being 20-20, I'd imagine this value of responsibility to the community was birthed out of circumstance. We lived in a neighborhood where everyone lived close to the poverty line, and so many struggled with different kinds of addiction issues. If only accessibility to mental health resources was more common. The older I get, the more tired I grow of saying, "If only."

One day during the third grade, my eighth year of life, an opportunity arose in which I knew my obligation to the community was being called. There was a new student, a girl named Jenny, who had a social disorder that caused her to have emotional outbursts. At the start of the day, we were all encouraged to help her through the day with kindness. But by recess, my friends were having a hard time exercising patience. All we wanted to do was jump rope while taking turns. Jenny, however, didn't have these social skills. As my little 8-year-old brain began to witness her emotionally crumble, I immediately became the mediator. My friends were not down. They retreated. Later in the day, the teacher called everyone out in class, and I was rewarded for being kind. It was an act of appreciation that I resented. In an effort to honor my value to the community, I had been separated from the community I enjoyed, my impatient friends. 

Although the core value of community and subsequent responsibility to those in need is still very much baked into me, I battle with boundaries. To honor a core value while still respecting oneself is a mastership that perhaps will take me a lifetime.

Prompt: Write a piece in which someone demonstrates one of their love languages to another.

love language

i grocery shop
my love cooks dinner

i wash the dog bowls
my love wrestles the pill 
into the dog

my love does the laundry
i fold the fitted sheet

i gift love poems and paintings
my love bakes me cookies

i grieve my dad dying
my love picks up the ashes
at the funeral home

5 love languages 
we use 4

the love language that i parcel out is words of affirmation
i appreciate you so much. you are amazing. i am so happy when i'm with you.

the love language i appreciate from others most is physical touch 
let’s hold hands. rub my back. let’s use lotion. touch me there. 

my partner’s love language of choice is quality time 
let's go for a walk. let's cook dinner together. you pick the tv show.

my partner's love language natural gift to me is acts of service
hunting down the beeping smoke alarm. having a fresh battery.

we talk about love languages more often than is normal 
particularly at gift giving times

we both like giving gifts and don’t care much about getting them
you could just give me a back rub. i don’t need another pair of earrings.

Prompt: Write a poem, a scene, a flash piece, freewrite that includes a plot twist. Try to incorporate the last item that you bought into the twist.

“You have a huge crush on Serena, don’t you?”
“Yeah, she’s my dream girl. AKA doesn’t have to be the brightest but at least femme and sporty.” 
“Well her backpack’s here. I dare you to leave her a note asking her out.”

Charly was never one to turn down a dare and this one would be no exception. Ten minutes to four. Serena and the rest of the cross country team would be on their last mile, making their way through the arboretum back to school. Charly and Nina were milling about on the the bleachers, as was their custom after photography club let out. Nina, loyal to her core, would always linger for as long as Charly wanted to. Charly, always with her head in the clouds, never had a clue that Nina hung around on the hope of getting invited to sleep over. After all, Charly was Nina’s dream girl. But the whole school knew them as best friends, so best friends they were. 

Charly patted her pockets. “Fuck. Do you have a pen on you?” 
“No, my backpack’s in my car,” Nina said.
“Mine too. Hope Serena won’t mind me digging in her backpack for one.” Charly grimaced before plunging her hand into Serena’s backpack.
“Well, the end justifies the means. She’ll probably love it.” Nina forced a smile. 
Charly extracted a quilted pencil pouch. “Jackpot.” 
She unzipped the pouch. Inside was nothing but tubes of lip glosses. Not a single writing utensil to be seen. 

You can make anything by writing.