"This work is unlike any other, in its range of rich, conjuring imagery and its dexterity, its smart voice. Carroll-Hackett doesn’t spare us—but doesn’t save us—she draws a blueprint of power and class with her unflinching pivot: matter-of-fact and tender." —Jan Beatty

Posts tagged ‘fiction prompts’

Daily Prompt Love <3 Even–Especially–When It's Hard

23 May 2017

Make art about seeing the world through eyes of Love, especially when it seems most impossible. 

love first

 

 

Daily Prompt <3 That Beautiful Yawp

22 May 2017

Thanks and Love to that fabulous poet-sister Amy Tudor for posting the article that inspires today’s prompt. 

“Adults in America don’t sing communally. Children routinely sing together in their schools and activities, and even infants have sing-alongs galore to attend. But past the age of majority, at grown-up commemorations, celebrations, and gatherings, this most essential human yawp of feeling—of marking, with a grace note, that we are together in this place at this time—usually goes missing.”

How Communal Singing Disappeared From American Life: And Why We Should Bring It Back

Make art about singing with others, about that joining of voices. 

singing

Daily Prompt Catch-Up <3 Attempting Peace in the Tumult

20 May 2017

Sewing without a pattern, a night gown I’ve wanted to attempt for months, but kept scaring myself out of trying. 

Make art about attempting something you’ve been scared to try. 

gown for prompt

 

21 May 2017

Make art about making moments of peace among the tumult. 

peace among tumult

Daily Prompt Love <3 Another Chance: A Very Special Birthday Prompt

19 May 2017

Seven years ago today, my oldest son J was in a terrible car accident, his little plastic Saturn sedan t-boned by a brand new Dodge Charger with its all-steel construction.

J, my laughing, charismatic, kind, smart son, only 22 then, was critically injured, with a compression skull fracture, subdural hematoma, subarachnoid hemorrhaging, and four feather bleeds into his beautiful brain. They airlifted him by helicopter from our small town to the major medical facility, MCV, in Richmond, admitting him directly into the neurological ICU. He was conscious the whole time, talking, joking, charming the nurses, complaining that he couldn’t look out the window on his first-ever helicopter ride, even saying things meant to reassure me, his sister, his brother, the friends who stood by us at the hospital. We bedded down in the ICU waiting room, while behind those heavy doors, monitors clicked and hummed, documenting my son’s traumatic brain injury. That was Wednesday. 

Early Thursday afternoon, as I stood as J’s bedside, a doctor we hadn’t seen before strode in, his crisp white lab coat flowing behind him. He introduced himself as the head of neurological research, and after a moment, he asked us if we had seen J’s latest CT scan. We hadn’t, so he hurried from the room, telling us he’d be right back. J and I looked at each other, confused, and my son must have seen worry in my eyes, as he patted my hand. 

The doctor returned, wheeling in a large piece of equipment, a medical imaging viewer, and positioned it at the end of J’s ICU bed. He turned it on and the image of my son’s skull appeared,  stark in the black and whiteness of it all. For a second, we were completely silent. Then the doctor, smiling, began to explain what we were seeing.

What we were seeing was nothing: no bleeding, no bruising, no swelling. The only sign that remained of my son’s injury just 24 hours before was the spiderweb of fractures in the bone, as if a pencil eraser had been pushed into the fragile shell of an egg, a network of bone break just beneath the C-shaped wound on the side of his head.  J’s brain looked completely normal, showing not a single other sign of the blow he’d taken the day before in the wreck that had left his little car mangled, left nothing but the driver’s seat intact. 

The doctor grinned, saying, “We want to study you, study why and how you healed so quickly.”

That was Thursday. We brought J home midday on Friday. Six weeks later, he was back at work, then back to his last year of college that fall. We talked time and again about his miraculous healing, about why it might have happened. 

J, my wise son, said, “Mom, I don’t know why it happened. I just know I got another chance.” 

He now calls May 19 his birthday. His Facebook status this morning read, “Today, I am alive.” 

Make art about being given another chance. 

 

J and Max

 

 

 

Daily Prompt Love Catch-Up <3 Small Lights

17 May 2017

I hate grocery shopping. But today while grudging my way through it, I ran into a retired colleague whom I adore and haven’t seen in a while. He made me laugh, like always. And I laughed through the rest of the shopping. 

Make art about something good arising from something you usually dread. 

flower

18 May 2017

Dreamt I was lighting candles, thousands and thousands of candles, as far as I could see. 

Make art about the power small lights. 

candles

Daily Prompt Love <3 Progress

16 May 2017

No one’s perfect.

Make art about progress versus perfection, about the myth of perfection, about the lessons and the beauty of being flawed. 

progress perfection

Daily Prompt Catch-Up <3 Sun, Rain, and Small Beauties <3

8 May 2017

End of the semester, so I’ve been drowning in final grading.

Make art about feeling overwhelmed.

Person under crumpled pile of papers with hand holding a help si

9 May 2017

Had some morning company 🙂

Make art about chickens in the road.

chickens

10 May 2017

So much rain here lately. Making the local weathermen happy, with their maps and pointers. 🙂

Make art about a weather map.

weather map

11 May 2017

My son’s sweetie got a new kitten, Baloo 🙂 Between him and my GrandPerson, our lives are filled with glorious baby things.

Make art about small beauties.

12 May 2017

Hung my sheets out to dry. Love climbing into them after they’ve come in that same day from the line.

Make art about the smell of the sun.

sheets

13 May 2017

Today was my daddy’s birthday. He could find the funny in everything, and he loved my mama more than breath. He wrote us letters to tell us kids all the things he loved about our mama.

Make art about how much you love someone.

how do i love thee

14 May 2017

Another Mother’s Day, and I can’t help but think of all the women who mother in ways other than the traditionally expected.

Make art about nontraditional nurturing.

nurture

15 May 2017

Reading Whitman before bed last night. For Whitman, not only was poetry a kind of democratic action, but democratic action should itself be understood as a kind of poetry.

Make art about democratic action as poetry.

WaltWhitman

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