The prompts come from either a list of about 100 different starting points or one member creates one and shares it with the group.
I thought it would be fun for you to see what each member came up with for the same prompt. I've provided an imperfect summary of what each member predominantly writes and placed the prompt in bold with the response following immediately afterward. The responses are not edited for content or grammar, but I did add paragraph breaks to make the responses read more easily in this post.
Donna (middle grade children's book author):
She was a funny old lady, but I knew she came to tell me ...
...something bad, something I did not want to hear. There was an eeriness around her as I gazed at her through the screen door. She continued to rap hard knocks making the door shudder. I wished her away—she and whatever baggage she came with. My stomach ached in sympathy with my heart.
Against my will, I opened the door. Her hair stood out in spikes and her apron was on backwards. She opened her mouth and said, “He’s gone!”
“Why, where would he go?” I asked, relieved it wasn’t worse.
“My husband, he is gone and he took the dog, my precious pooch…”
Bette (historical fiction author):
She was a funny old lady, but I knew she came to tell me ...
...exactly what I didn't want to hear. Did she really think I needed to be reminded of what was obvious to every passerby? Did she think I didn't know the latch was broken on the gate - did she think I wanted to gate itself hanging at that awkward angle? - Oh, and were you planning on scraping this paint on the fence--?
That I had an answer to--
"Oh, I just thought I'd hose it down with the sprang on high speed and wash all those chips away!" I opened the door. "Miss Bleezley. What a nice surprise. How can I help you?"
"It's you who can help me, dear May I come in?"
"Yes, of course." I backed up and swung the door wide. "It's so nice out. Let's sit on the porch." I led her though the hall to the back door---
Maggie (children's book author):
She was a funny old lady, but
I knew she came to tell me…
That the butterflies circling
during the ceremony were a signal.
“Of what?” Grace asked. “Who?”
Her skirt was a shimmering
green, like the tall grasses swaying in the field. Her eyes, turquoise, like the sea with a wave
of knowing. He sun-golden hair flowed
freely. Funny, maybe, old perhaps, but
all-knowing without a doubt.
Toe to toe we stood in the
sand. Her skin soft as held my hand.
“They are here!” She replied.
“Who?”
Cyd (young adult historical fiction):
She was a funny old lady but I knew she came to tell me…
The nerve! I have been a model guest for all these days. All right, months, actually. Or maybe years? Have I lived here over a year?
I lost count after I won a bottle of Leprechaun Whiskey at the county fair. “Won” might have been a generous way to put it. “Blackmail” might be more accurate--after I witnessed an exchange between several scruffy ne’re-do-wells behind the carny wheel.
“There’s a steady supply o’ that if you a’ git to helping us here.”
Me (crime/suspense author):
She was a funny old lady, but I knew she came to tell me ...
...the wine flask was empty.
"Empty! Impossible!" I said.
A soft smile graced her lips. "Yesh, it is."
For all the years I'd been coming to the library, the last thing I thought I'd encounter was a drunk librarian. Maybe I was naive in thinking that. The flask was in my bag. I was the drunk, not Mable, but Mable added another layer to the Drunk Book Lady thing.
She added thieving.
And that explained a lot.
It explained why people stayed away from me at gatherings and why I heard whisperings of missing wallets or jewelry. Mable was my frequent companion on my infrequent outings. I am a horrible introvert. And the flask?
My strength.
