Writing Prompts

I have two books that have writing prompts that give you ideas to write about. One gives you a boost into a subject and some words you must put into your story.  The other book just asks random questions about yourself or what if questions.  I haven’t really worked in the last one but the first book I have written some stories.  The thing is they don’t give you enough space to write.  So I began to pen a story and never finish due to space and my defiance of never really finishing a story.  I have an issue with finishing my stories.  I began a book or a short story with these books as prompts but never finish.  My books become dead in the water.  I am trying to at least write some of these stories here in this site to inspire me to write and finish in hopes that someone might get some amusement or just for my own sanity of getting some of these stories down somewhere.  I have written one of the stories down earlier. A Family History Uncovered.  So no farther ado here is one of my prompt stories that I never finished.

A Strange Request at a Piano Bar

     It was a quarter past eight during the biggest Mardi Gras downtown in New Orleans.  The crowd was madding and the people were packed in from all over for the big celebration.  They were all acting juvenile with their antics of flashing skin, beads, and it made it all awkward for George Blackstock.  He was towered over most of the celebrators and pushed his glasses back on his nose.  He came in for business and thought it would be fun to see the carnival.  He had light brown hair and a wary eye.  He was just divorced last year and wasn’t quite over that fact.  The controversy was that he wasn’t spontaneous enough, not brave enough, his ex-wife told him he was too shy and she wanted a man that was more.  George never got that idea out of his head.  How can he be more?  George thought coming out tonight during Mardi Gras was going to show the world that he was fun and impetuous.  But he felt alone and lost instead amiss in the crowds.  He spied a piano bar with a gilded cast-iron balcony that was green from the oxidation on its front windows.  Music was pouring out into the sidewalk.  It drew him like a moth into the flame.  He walked up to the bar and the barkeep offered him a beer.  George just sat there staring at his drink.  A woman with a mask that had a butterfly painted on it came up next to him and ordered an apple martini.  She was blonde and curvy.  She gave him a wink and spoke with a Southern drawl.

“Aren’t you sweet as sassafras, darling? Do you mind if I give you swirl on the dance floor with this ol’ girl?” She smiled and batted her long lashes.  George looked like he was a deer in front of headlights in the middle of a highway.  He thought, this is my chance to be bold, be spontaneous.  He turned so fast to accept the offer but turned his ankle instead.  He fell off the stool and into the floor.   The lady laughed but knelt down to help him up.

….and that is all I have in my little book.  I will try to finish this short story.

A Family Mystery Uncovered

Curiousity had peaked in Cole’s frame of mind.  He couldn’t stand it anymore,  He had to find it. He had to find his grandfather’s treasure. The notebook he found last Sunday in his grandfather’s storage locker talked about it.  Old letters filled the small book of stories of advertures and secrets.  Secrets that Cole could not believe to be true.  His grandfather had been an explorer that found the treasure of Oak Hill.  The island where they said had a trove of dubloons or even possibly Mayan gold stolen by Spain.  His grandfather, the man that was irratic with mood sweings working in his small pitiful garden that never grew much anything.  He remembered studing those dirty large hands, callaossed, nails dark with caked onsoil embedded in the rims. Cole stared at the wallpaper in the kitchen in his grandparent’s home.  They both were gone now. Together in car accident that took their lives last month.  It was his job to clean out the house for his mother who worked night and day to provide for him and his younger sister.

His thoughts drifted back to his memories of his grandfather.  Sitting beside him on the back porch talking about what Cole’s was doing wrong and how needed to fix it. He was always so rough and didn’t trust anyone.  Cole couldn’t believe his grandmother who was so sweet and loved him to stay through all those years with that grumpy old gruff.  He was not a loving man in any way.  He would always order everyone about.  He made Cole do so many odd jobs when he had to stay with them over the summer.  He hated summers because of it.  The strange thing with all the cutting of trees, fixing the house, dregging the ditch, or whatever his sadistic grandfather told him to do, he would not let Cole near the garden.  He always said he didn’t want anyone to mess with his plants.

Cole stood up and looked out across the yard through the window.  Weeds had pilled up already on that plot of ground of the forbidden garden.  Cole’s eyes shot up and thought to himself. Maybe grandfather had something hidden there.


I love to write.  It’s fun.  It’s like sitting down with your favorite toy and acting out a scene or an adventure.  It’s there in your head.  All you have to do is put it on paper or your computer screen in print.  Your character can go anywhere and be anyone.  It is all in your head, in your imagination.

I have been dealing with life.  My battle with my current day job and my desire to write.  I want to write and create.  I was made to create.  I draw, paint, create lyrics and sing.  Creating… being a parent another part of creating.  You are teaching and helping create these amazing people.

I am a dental assistant.  I love people.  They are fascinating and hold so much information.  Here lately, well it’s rather an ongoing issue with my job.   There is always something.  I feel like I might get ahead and then.  There is always something I am missing or not doing to be amazing.  I am usually good at things.  Ever since dental assistant school, I have been having problems.  I suppose since this is Rachel Writes, I wanted to write to you, my dear readers. Well I know I don’t have a multitude of readers but I wanted to put out the cosmic question.  What am I supposed to do?  I am doubting my choice of career and my abilities.  I dream of a time that I can just write and stay home and do what I love.  God has me here working on people’s mouths and working with people.  I love my coworkers and the company isn’t horrible.  I feel like I am in a rut and I can’t get better.  I suppose we all have this issue of fear and doubt.  I have been doing this for over 5 years now.  I haven’t perfected my skills.

I will keep writing.  Keep learning this craft.  Search out free online classes, read more books, and get my metaphorical toys on the floor and create a world with writing.  I will keep praying for guidance and I will keep writing.  Hopefully one day,  I can totally rock my job and do everything amazingly.

Chapter 4

Super hyped about Chapter 4… I wrote 1116 words tonight.  I am piecing characters in and giving them a sense of dimension.  Amanda, my protagonist is in the middle of this mystery with Norse rituals and gruesome deaths in her small town.  She is trying to find out what is going on and how she is going to find out the truth and report it before she gets into more trouble.  Her boss gave her the go ahead with the story and to see where the rabbit hole leads.

Neuvo Novel

My husband started to write, then in which, made me feel inadequate and bad.  I was supposed to be the writer.  But he wanted me to get on board and help edit and add.  Then kinda take over the writing process and use his ideas to help bring the book to life.  I write a little faster and I have a better spelling prowess.  So now we will be co-writing this new book.  The title is Insignificant Secrets: City in the Dark.  I am starting to love the characters and we are bringing some of our friends and family into the book. We are starting the fourth chapter and it is exciting.  It is not my typical Christian book idea, it’s more murder mystery with a twist of paranormal.  I need to keep moving with it and I do love writing.  I have a beta-reader set up already and I read it to my parents as well.  They all like it and want more.   I will keep you posted as I move along with this adventure with my husband, Caleb.

Happy New Year

It’s 2018 and the weather outside is COLD.  23 degrees and it’s 12:38 pm.  So Cold but this is the year of changes. I am trying to be more self-disciplined and write more.  I have this awesome little book I have gotten from Barnes and Noble last year that gives you some prompts to write.  It has a title and some vocabulary words that inspire you to use in your story. So how fun, right?  It is fun but I do have issues finishing these stories. For one thing, they only give a page on the book to write and I, of course, have too much fun embellishing on the story.  So here is hoping to stick to my plan… Write, right?

Happy Birthday

Well, this is my first post/blog writing experience.  I usually write my ideas, trails, and experiences on paper. This is my attempt to start posting, moving forward in my writing.

I started to write when I was a teen. Poetry, the way I felt about things of the world, fears, boy crazy rants, and issues I was dealing with.

The other things I write about as I have gotten older was letters to God, my fears of my first marriage, my children, and my life.  I have been through some things as most people have.  I carry on and keep trusting God to carry me through.

The first notion of writing publicly came when I went to a teacher’s conference.  I was teaching at a Christian school in West Palm Beach.  We needed to keep up with CEUs for our teaching certificates.  I had different choices of classes there at this Berean school they set up for us Christian based schools in the area.  My friend Shari and I decided to check out this Skeleton Plot class taught by Angela Hunt.  She was an author that lived in the area and she wrote many types of books.  She was awesome.  She was funny and told us how she came to be a writer.  The class made me question, could I be a writer???  Of course, I doubted myself right away and just tried to enjoy the rest of the training.

I love to read and I loved going to the library.  Stories and adventures on the page just make me so good and wise.  Funny, right? I was walking around with my children in the Palm Springs Library and spotted a book written by one of my favorite Christian fiction writers, Gilbert Morris.  The title of this book is How To Write (and Sell) A Christian Novel.  I was like, what…  I enjoyed his whole Winslow series and other books and now this.  I picked it up and read the back.  I then shook my head and put it down.  I walked away and just laughed at myself.  There is no way I could write.  I felt God speak to me. He told me to check it out. Pick up. Take it home. Was God wanting me to write? Well after arguing myself, I did check it out.  I loved it.  It was fun. It made me write prompts and conflicts.  Work on characters.  Then I started a book using some of the ideas and had fun and stopped.

I got busy. I didn’t like the names of the characters.  How am I going to get A to B, E, F, and Z?  I started another story and didn’t finish either.  I bought the book by Morris from Amazon.  I need to read it again.  I google up ways to write a book.  I pray about it.  So on the advice of one of these said google searches, I began this page to start writing. To try to publish some of the chapters possibly. To have people check it out, give me input, and see what I can do.  I read that the graveyard is full of dreams never fulfilled.  That scares me.  I don’t want to not write. Maybe one of these days what I say can influence someone to do something amazing.  I don’t care about being a best-seller or famous.  I just love being able to help and encourage others on this walk.

Thanks for reading through this confession, or testimony if it may be.  Let me know what you think.