Writing Prompt – Details are Everything

Writing Prompt – Details are Everything

I like picture prompts. I like to look at them and see the obvious story, then I like to try to come up with something NOT obvious. I do that by looking carefully at the details of the image. Is there a bug in the corner? Maybe that’s the bad guy. Is there a wrinkle in the shirt? Maybe it’s hiding something sinister. Is there a Photoshop error? Maybe this whole image is a hologram. What is it hiding?

Can you do that? Write a quick sentence or two about the obvious story behind the picture, then look for the small details and come up with a couple of sentences to show a not-so-obvious tale.

Speculative fiction, art and poetry are all about the unknown, the unseen, the overlooked. We have to be the ones to carve those moments out and bring them to the attention of others. It’s a higher calling, people. We owe the human race something amazing. And PLEASE! For the love of human interaction, share your ideas in the comments!



Obvious: Diver stumbles across sunken statues of people. (Do not write this!)




Obvious: Chick sitting on the side of the road, probably running from a bad situation. (Do not write about this either! And am I the only one who’s calves get chaffed when I wear boots without socks? Ouch.)





Obvious: Invisible woman reading a book in the park. (Sorry, too easy, come up with something better!)

3 thoughts on “Writing Prompt – Details are Everything

  1. Lost my survival cord bracelet somewhere in the coral reef; now I’ve nothing to rig a fishing net, no prospects for a next meal. So excited to see rope here on the ocean floor. I hope it’s nylon. Wait a minute . . . .

  2. What fun! Let’s see…

    Number 1: Back in the good old days, Medusa could just keep her victims in the back garden, but over the years, and decades, and centuries, her collection had grown to such an extent that it began to draw suspicion–and annoying visits from hero wannabes. Her new garden was harder to stroll through, but drew much less attention from nosy neighbors.

    Number 2: Bitsy sat down on her toolcase in the middle of the road. This body was much sleeker and more exotic than the fat truck driver he’d been wearing before. Funny how humans tended to drive vehicles that matched their bodies. Bitsy lit a cigarette and adjusted the sunglasses that covered her telltale yellow eyes–and hoped the next one didn’t notice the skid marks.

    Number Three: Sometime in the middle of the third year, I began to be able to smell things. I think that was when I started wishing too. I wanted with all my limited being to taste cinnamon, just once. Who knew that wishes could have wishes? I was afraid he’d give up, that he’d move on to some other yearning and leave me drifting about, half formed, until I dissolved into a cloud of apathy. But he kept on wishing. After five years, I found I could touch things. And when I slipped into the dress, it held its shape. I tried on a scarf, and shoes, and gloves, and when I could get them all to stay in place, I went to sit on the park bench where I was born and wait for him to walk past. Do you think he will notice me?

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