Vitora’s Great, Long,
and All-Powerful Alphabetical List of Writing Activities for Authors Great and
Small
By Vitora
Never mind the grand title.
It’s just for show. Trust me, the
piece is not as special as the verbose heading would suggest.
All right, here we go.
Blah blah blah, this article will show you lots of ways to—what the
heck; let’s get down to the point. I’ve
compiled a rather extensive—but in no way exhaustive—list of ways to come up
with story ideas and to get you into the writing mood. Some will involve lots of ‘user interaction’,
others require a minimal amount of thinking, but all should get your creative
juices flowing. Ready?
A is for acting out
your characters. It’s quite
self-explanatory, actually—all you need are a pencil, paper, music, and an
empty room and you’re ready to play the part of your hero or heroine (or
perhaps your villain!). Props, such as
select pieces of jewelry or the odd weapon, are nice too, but they’re not
essential; besides, you shouldn’t know ahead of time what you’re going to do…if
you do, you shouldn’t need to do this.
At any rate, start up your instrumental music and close your eyes. Remember, you
are your character. Take a few deep
breaths, maybe hum along with the music if you know the song—and begin.
From here you have a couple of ways to go: you can either
act out a ‘typical’ day in your character’s life or you can act out the next
scene they’re involved in. If you decide
the former, then do what seems natural.
What does your character eat for breakfast? How about their work situation or their love
life? Don’t throw anything special if
you can help it (unless, of course, your inner muse is driving you to do so);
this is an average day. If, on the other
hand, you go for the latter, then you’re rather on your own—I can’t predict all
situations that your individual may have gotten themselves
into. But the really important thing
about this exercise is to really throw
yourself into your character. Brush
back your hair every few seconds if this is their nervous habit; munch on an
imaginary plate of pickled herring and Saltine crackers if that’s their
favorite snack. Depending on which route
you took, this technique will either delve you deeper into your character’s
true self or work out the next difficult scene in their life story.
B is for biographies. How did Jack get to the point where he was
willing to trade in the cow and climb the beanstalk? What traumatic experience led Cinderella’s
evil stepmother to be who she is? I’m
not saying that you should write these
stories—apply the principle to your own characters. Perhaps, in your novel-in-progress, you hint
at some dastardly deed in the hero’s past.
Your audience, of course, will want to know
what that shameful sin is; it’s a nice little hook to drag those reluctant
readers into the tale. Sometimes, of
course, you won’t want to reveal your star’s secret—you wish his deepest
secrets to stay hidden in the shadows.
But other times, you may feel it’s for the best, and that’s where
biographies come in. Don’t think that
you should drive down to the library, grab the thickest, most boring biography
off the shelves, and copy it almost word for word; no, I’m saying write the story.
Dialogue, description, action, characterization—this should all be in
your character’s fictional life story, which will be your story’s prequel. Make it silly, make it serious, make it
spooky, but please, please don’t make it boring. This is fiction, remember, not a school
textbook.
C is for continued
adventures. Now we dive into the exciting
realm of fan-fiction: taking the world and characters of someone else and
throwing new dangers their way. This
opens up a vast amount of possibilities—hey, who wouldn’t like to see Han Solo
or Matthias get out of yet another close scrape? And there’s always the added bonus of being
able to create your own characters that follow the same rules as the
established ones. Though it can’t be
published, fan-fiction is an excellent way to get story ideas. I find it easier to write in someone else’s
world than in my own, but I find it even easier to translate the characters
into my personal universe once the story is written.
D is for dreams. Ever wake up and discover that you just wrote
an entire novel in your sleep last night?
No, it won’t be waiting for you on the computer or in your desk
drawer—it’s still in your head. And it’s
probably more than a little bit jumbled and silly, too, knowing dreams. But it’s there, and it’s excellent
inspiration. Even if you don’t write a
bestseller out of your nighttime vision, you may come up with a humorous,
scary, or even intriguing short story that you write for your own pleasure.
E is for exchange
beginnings with friends. Write a few
random sentences on a piece of paper (or a document, if you both have computers
handy) and give it to your friend; they’ll do the same. Before you swap sheets, go ahead and set a
timer. Yep, a timer, and choose a small
increment of time—three to five minutes.
This way, your muse won’t know what hit it, seeing as it doesn’t know
what your friend’s beginning is, and it won’t have time to recover and may end
up spitting out some pretty juicy material.
Without the surprise and time limit, your brain has time to wander and
think logically about what should come next; not a good thing, if you’re
looking for random inspiration.
F is for freewrite. This one is easy, and often quite humorous,
if you talk to yourself on paper like I do.
Get out your paper and pencil again and set your timer (don’t start it
yet, though) for ten minutes. Here’s
where you make a decision: true freewrite
or directed freewrite? If you decide on the first, then just start
writing. Write whatever the heck comes
to mind and don’t you dare change a single word. During the time your timer is going, don’t
lift your pencil from the paper; if you get stuck and can’t think of something,
just write the same word over and over, or glance around the room and pick a
random object to write about. When the
time is up, look back over your piece.
True freewriting serves two purposes: one, getting your creative juices
flowing; two, digging up that raw material.
You may not like a single word of what you wrote—in that case, only the
former was accomplished. But sometimes,
you’ll see a glimmer of an idea that just might be developed into an
interesting story.
Then again, you may like the sound of directed freewrite
better. In that case, choose a
topic. It can be anything, from why
strawberries are red to grief to annoying siblings to the Internet. Anything. Anything. Write your
chosen topic at the top of your paper, start your timer, and begin
writing. Sounds familiar, right? Wrong; this time, start by thinking about
your topic. Why are strawberries red? You’ll
most likely come up with some pretty interesting explanations, and perhaps some
rambling material too—that’s okay. Just
let your mind wander, and don’t try to force it back on track. You’ll miss out on some great stuff if you do.
G is for generate
topic lists. Pick a list topic—any
topic. Again, this can be anything you
come up with: Talking Fruit, Random Stuff, People, TV Shows…etc. Write it on the top of a piece of paper and
plop yourself down in your favorite chair.
Decided that you’re going for Random Stuff? Good choice; it’s a popular topic. Now look around you and start scribbling down
random things you see. I don’t
necessarily mean items like ‘fireplace’, ‘lamp’, and ‘desk’. Try things such as ‘man walking dog’, ‘papers
scattered on floor’, ‘mice nibbling at ancient pizza’. Action things, things that suggest movement
or mystery, are going to end up as story ideas.
Really, who wants to read (or write, for that matter) a story about
Harold the lamp shade? Not me, for
crying out loud. I’d rather read
something about why those mice were
out, unafraid of the inhabitants of the house—not to mention the pizza. Now that you’ve got a list, you can go back
over it and put a star by the things that spark interest in your muse’s elusive
little heart. Save this list and refer
back to it when you’re out of other story ideas.
H is for hectic
writing. This is a lot like
freewriting, only it’s on already-established pieces of work, preferably one
that you had writer’s block with.
Perhaps you have a story that you haven’t touched in
months—perfect. It’s ripe for the
picking. Open it on your computer or
take it out of the drawer and read over it.
Don’t change anything, though, unless there’s truly a glaring
grammatical error or some such problem.
Get to the end and get ready to write—don’t forget to set your timer,
though! You can’t really think about what you’re writing, though, or you’ll get stuck
again; thinking is the quickest way to become trapped in the mire of writer’s
block. Just write for five to ten minutes, and then read back over your
work. Like it? Save it.
Hate it? Delete it. But at least you’re going somewhere with it,
right? And eventually you’ll hit on
something perfect and take off like a shot.
Just remember, no thinking. And the timer is essential to this
one—otherwise you have the time to
think.
I is for imaginary journey. Find
yourself a nice, meditative spot—near running water or somewhere dark and
quiet—to sit, grab some paper, and close your eyes. Now, slowly, detail by detail, draw a
world. Is it hot or cold? What sorts of plants exist in this place? How about creatures? Once you’ve constructed an entire land,
explore. Find out what ancient
civilizations left their mark, what legendary monsters have their lairs in the
high mountains, why the natives refuse to go anywhere near that smoking
mountaintop (hmmm…maybe it’s—duh!—a volcano?).
When you’re done discovering all these juicy details, go ahead and open
your eyes. Write down your finds. Perhaps something will emerge that makes your
brain click into gear and start writing.
J is for journal. You may already have one of these—many people
do—but if you don’t, you can use anything from a ten-cent notebook from Target
to the electronic voice-activated lock toys (I don’t think those work too
well…I’ve never tried one myself, though).
I use a program I created on my computer, which you can download at my
website (see link at the end); it’s a bit primitive, but I use it because I type
faster than I write by hand. Speed is important—choose what you’re fastest at. Believe you me, if
you stop and think about what you write in your journal, it’ll come out
sounding like an essay (see a pattern in these exercises? No thinking!). Not good—not for what we’re looking for,
anyhoo. Your journal is just for
jotting—or sketching, if you’re an artist—down what you think about life, or a
random story idea you had, or a list of your secret crushes. Whatever, really; again, it’s good for getting
ideas flowing. There are other types of
journals you can keep other than a personal one, too, such as the dream
journal—in which you write your dreams when you wake up; this is handy for
dream writing—or the ‘commonplace’ book, a notebook that you write your
favorite quotes and book passages.
K is for keepsakes. Grandmothers and other elderly people are
quite notorious for keeping odd mementos from ‘the good ol’ days’, and quite
often they have stories to tell about these items. “My brother’s wife’s sister’s son’s pet
mouse’s boyfriend’s owner’s brother got this medal when he saved the family dog
from a—” You
get the point. At any rate, you can
decide between two options here: ask the owner of the keepsake to tell the real
story behind it, or make up its story.
Those old coins sure look like they were underwater for the longest
time…pirates, perhaps? How about that
once-beautiful, moth-eaten dress…who originally wore that? Hold the object, touch it to your cheek, turn
it over in your hands—and listen to its voice.
Let it tell its story.
L is for leading in
with action. Make a list of basic
action words—run, jump, fly, walk, swim, etc.
Using a thesaurus (or perhaps your head), find better, more descriptive
versions of these, such as: scamper, bound, soar, amble, and flounder.
If you’re a serious writer, you most likely have a large
file of unused characters; go ahead and choose one, or make one up if you don’t
have any spare individuals lying around.
Now choose one of the words; for this example, I’m going to use my mouse
character Regreb and the word bound. Regreb bounded over the fence, his chest
heaving as he pressed on determinedly.
Using the character’s name and the verb, write a single sentence like
the one above. This should give you
reason to finish it—why is Regreb running?
There’s got to be a reason, and that’s where the rest of the story comes
in.
M is for magazine
pictures. National Geographic is one
of the best for this exercise, as it’s got everything from jungle animals to
African tribes to the lifestyle in modern-day
Find and cut out a few pictures that interest you. Maybe you like the lions creeping through the
grass, or the busy streets of
N is for Nouns. This is a little game I made up, and it may
take some explaining. I did borrow some
of the ideas from the book Writing the
Wave, but in general it’s my activity.
Take out a sheet of paper and draw several boxes, anywhere between one
and five. In each box, write the first
noun that comes to mind; I ended up with computer, clock, brother, rat, and
Richie Frahm (don’t ask, okay?
Just…don’t) in my five boxes. Don’t write down this next step. Think of a verb that each item would be most likely to do. In my example, this step would be: process,
tick, annoy, eat, and sit on the bench.
Now, in the respective boxes, write the opposite of these verbs (or if
they don’t have an opposite, then write something that they certainly wouldn’t do)—shut down, hum,
behave, sing, play basketball. OK,
so…what if computers just shut down, all on their own? Across the world, people would panic, lose
their unsaved information, and even be unable to work. All right, how about clocks—if clocks started
humming all of a sudden instead of ticking, what might be the cause? Or what if one day your younger brother
turned into a veritable angel? I assume
you’d be suspicious. See where this is
going? It’s a game of what-ifs—and
what-ifs are why storytelling even exists—to get you thinking and writing.
O is for objects
around you. Thanks to members of
Tsarmina’s Redwall Fan-Fiction board for this one… If you run out of ideas one day, glance
around the room, or even take a quick walk.
What everyday objects do you see?
Perhaps the door—uh, duh, how boring.
But not if it automatically closed behind you, or slammed itself in the
faces of people who drove you nuts. What
about that pile of dirty laundry? How
about writing a story from the point of view of the laundry monster for starts,
or maybe even the sad tale of little Joey, who forgot to sort his laundry and
was sucked in by a group of aliens who live in sweaty socks? OK, so that was over the top—but such
ordinary things can become great stories, even if they’re only good for
children’s picture books.
P is for portraits of
time. Ever see a magnificent sunset
and run to snatch up your camera? It’s
one of those Kodak moments, those times when a spectacular sight gives your
heart and soul a nice dose of ‘nature’s glory’.
A camera isn’t the only way to capture a scene, though—as a writer, you
have the power of words as well. Next
time you see something that interests you—a waterfall, two people holding a
strange conversation, or your cousin’s horrendously messy bedroom—grab up a pen
and paper and record it with specific adjectives and strong verbs. Keep a file of your captured moments, and
when you come to a road block in one of your stories, whip out your papers and work
one in. This adds realistic flavor to
your writing if you’ve accurately described the scene, and also gives you a
whole new pre-assembled point to work from.
Q is for Quick Work,
another game of mine. At the end of this
article, you’ll find a list of prompts—but don’t look at it yet! I’ve spaced them out as much as possible so
it’s easier for you to only see one at a time.
Covering up the unused ones with a separate piece of paper, read the top
word. Quickly, now, what does it make
you think of? On yet another page, jot
down the first word that comes to your mind.
Keep going with the same idea, creating a chain of words that are all
connected somehow (at least in your mind—to the casual observer, milk might not
be obviously related to horseradishes).
Using the same principle as Writing
the Wave’s ‘writer’s gold’, this may awaken fresh ideas from the dark
depths of your mind.
R is for rewriting. Pull out a couple of finished pieces that you
aren’t really satisfied with, or write up something at random that you
absolutely hate. What’s wrong here—the
beginning, the middle, or the end? For
each section that you deem disgusting, copy it down three times on separate
paper. Set a timer for ten minutes and start
changing things in your first copy: to begin with, take out and insert entire
sentences, or even paragraphs; get the plot right before you tweak the little
things. Now mess around with the
details—character descriptions, verbs, and dialogue. When the time’s up, put it aside and don’t
you dare look at it again—if you do, you mess things up. Grab your second copy and do the same thing,
but go in a completely different direction: if Millie killed Max in your
original and threw Sammy off a cliff in your first version, then have her kiss
Marty instead. Do the same with a third
revision; change something major around, and don’t forget to use the ten-minute
limit on both of those. Now look at your
four pieces, the original and the three copies.
What elements do you like best of each one? Take what you like and combine them to result
in a story with the exact components that you want.
S is for songs. Music is an excellent way to get you into a
writing mood, most especially if it clearly depicts an emotion: high, wailing
woodwinds for sadness and longing, low background violin notes for danger. You can do this exercise a couple of
ways—either get some CDs from the library that you’ve never heard before, or
find a few of your favorite instrumental songs.
If you choose the former, then you’re in a position to freewrite, or
work on a story you’re stuck on. Just
randomly choose a song (some boom boxes have a convenient random button) and
start writing as it plays. Sometimes,
what you’re writing only uses the song’s emotion for a few sentences, and
that’s all right; but don’t stop the music, just keep writing. If you’re into what you’re putting down, your
mind will automatically tune out the music, but it’s still there as background.
The other way to go is this: if you know what you need to
write but just can’t get it out, find a song that fits the emotion. I, for instance, used a mournful song when I
was writing a story about a fallen friend (Vitora the bat’s best friend Fidget
the robin), and it was probably one of my best writings ever. It just wouldn’t have been the same without
the music there to help me along, to get my gears going in the right direction.
T is for twisted
clichés. Yeah, yeah, we all know how
the prince rescues the princess from the evil witch. But what if the not-so-evil witch was rescued
by the prince from the evil princess?
And clichés are not always so, well, blatant; often, they’re more
subtle, such as the hero having a sword.
Hey, why can’t the hero have a spear or something instead? And what’s with the girl always getting her guy? Let
them break up at the very end. Distort
the most classic of storylines for a humorous (or not so humorous) change of
pace.
U is for unaccustomed
reading and writing. Most of us have
a genre that we’re most comfortable with—fantasy or romance or even non-fiction. So if you always grab up the latest Dragons book in your spare time, leave
it alone and try a poem or two instead.
Familiarize yourself with other genres, first by reading selections,
then by writing. Essays aren’t your
thing? Write one, then, for two reasons:
one, you need the practice (trust me, everyone I know who would have a reason
to says I’ll be doing tons of essays in college) and two, it’ll open your mind
to something new. If you’ve never
touched a romance novel in your life, borrow one from the library (though you
may want to choose carefully and get one that you won’t find offensive or
embarrassing). Often, ideas that are
hovering in the back of your mind can only come out in the form of a specific
genre, and if you aren’t well-rounded in your reading and writing, grand
schemes may be lost forever in the hidden niches of your brain.
V is for vacuuming. Yes, you read that correctly—I said
vacuuming. Or showering, if you prefer;
maybe even raking the yard is your thing.
Just a monotonous activity during which you can let your mind
wander. Frequently, I will hop in the
shower and emerge moments later with two accomplishments under my belt: I’m
clean, and I’ve got a snappy new story idea (or, in some cases, the answer to a
problem). It’s funny how often I’m
called by my mother when she’s in the shower so that she can tell me something
she thought up—yep, we call it her ‘thinking time’. Don’t stop and map out where you want your
train of thought to go as you’re doing your activity—let it wander random
tracks at will.
W is for what ifs. Often, when I read a novel and am
interrupted, I’ll stop halfway through a paragraph and will have to leave it
hanging for a while. The thought of
‘what if…’ is often the only thing that keeps me from throttling the person who
intruded on my precious reading time, and the question keeps running through my
head as I perform whatever task required: ‘what if…?’ What if the main character loses that
medallion? What if the villain finds out
about the stolen horse? The questions
vary from long, complicated wonderings to the simplest query, but it keeps my
mind busy. There are two ways to tap
this resource—one, by writing fan-fics based on the phrase ‘what if’. Pick a spot in the novel that annoyed you to
no end. Perhaps the main character never
ended up exploring that intruiging passageway that was so wonderfully described
and then left to rot in the reader’s mind.
Well, then, what if he had
explored it? What then? Would the villain have been defeated in the
end? And there’s no limit to these
questions—every single narrative sentence that has a verb in it can be
challenged (and some dialogue, too), although some will end up with more
exciting results than others.
Or, if you prefer, you can use this technique on your own
stories when you’re stuck. OK, so now
he’s at the edge of a cliff, about to be pushed off to his doom. What if a cat with wings swoops down and
bears him to a safe place? (Sorry,
family joke.) What if he makes it all
the way to the bottom, only to land on foam mattresses and realize that those
masked kidnappers are playing a practical joke on him? Think of five different ways to answer the
what if question that you’re stuck on and then order them from craziest to most
practical. Use and develop the one you
deem best (or throw them all away and start over from a different point).
X is for eXploring
foreign lands. (OK, that was
lame. But X is hard, you know?) Go to the library and find some interesting,
picture-filled books on other countries.
Then plan a vacation—a very rough outline of locations to visit—as
though you were someone other than yourself.
You may end up with a character (and a ready-made real-life story) out
of this, or you may already have a character in mind when you do it. At any rate, it’s a way to add realistic
flavor to your stories.
Y is for your
acquaintances. Yeah, you know, those
people you’re acquainted with? Use them
as characters. Do what’s called a
‘person profile’—write a short paragraph or outline (see end of article) that
details different parts of them: physical description, attitude, accent,
anything. Tweak some stuff, too (it can
be a problem if you start using people in your stories without their
permission—especially if you’re one of the authors who loves to do nasty
drastics to your characters): if your cousin drools on his pillow sometimes,
then make him slobber gallons every night.
Even pets can make excellent characters, especially with fine-tuning. And don’t just use the people/animals
themselves—take their experiences and mess with those as well.
Z is for zilch. Zero.
Zip. Nothing. Find a dark, silent
room, bring a blanket, and curl up in a comfortable position. Then, for approximately ten to twenty
minutes, don’t move if you can help it.
This activity is a lot like vacuuming, in that you simply let your mind
wander while your body does minimal work.
The lack of light keeps you from being distracted by your eyes, and the
silence does the same to your ears. When
the time is up, go ahead and turn on the light; write down what you thought
about. Maybe all you feel like doing
with this raw material is creating a journal entry; or you might take it to the
next level and write the raw draft of a poem.
Several of these sessions may even present enough material for a short
story—or even an entire novel!
Hope you enjoyed—and can use—the material in this
article. It was fun to write, at any
rate, and I can’t remember the last I cranked out seven pages of non-fiction in
such a short time (two days). At any
rate…happy authoring!
Here’s a
basic character template:
Name:
Species:
Gender:
Age:
Physical Appearance:
Personality:
History:
Motivation/Long-term Goals:
Equipment:
Accent:
Mannerism:
And now,
for the prompt list! (Borrowed in part
from Blazing Pencils)
Emotions
Sadness
Happiness
Anger
Fear
Hate
Love
Experiences
Firsts
Lasts
Bests
Worsts
People and Places
Home
Mother
Father
Grandparents
Siblings
Vacation
Random!
Strawberry
patch
Horses
Imagination
Coffee
Rattle
Flying