JanFishler

Author ~ Happiness Coach

Writing Prompt: Death

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October Writing Prompts

Traditionally, October has been a very significant month. It’s the month I moved from Ohio to California, by myself in a 1971 VW and it’s the month I married my husband. It’s also the month where everything in the garden is harvested, the month I make a huge pot of chili and corn bread and invite friends and family for a casual get together, and it’s the month for celebrating my favorite holiday, Halloween. For this month, I’m continuing with prompts inspired from, Women Know Everything! 3,241 Quips, Quotes & Brilliant Remarks.

October 1Writing Prompt: Death
What is your attitude about death? Is it something you fear or does the inevitable end inspire you to live a rich and full life? If you died tomorrow, how would your obituary read? Write the obituary you would like to have.

Writing Prompt: January 24, 2014

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Writing Prompt: January 24, 2014

 

Celebrate your uniqueness and what makes you special.
Write about your best attribute.

Speak Your Truth, Write Your Story

Ask me about Writing Workshops: Write Your Story Memoir, Writing as a Pathway to Healing Trauma, Free Yourself to Write, and How to Plan Your Novel. Email me: jan@janfishler.net or call: 530-264-5105

Buy my adoption memoir: Searching for Jane, Finding Myself Kindle edition on Amazon.

 

A Hot, Hot Day in July – Writing Prompt

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A Hot, Hot Day in July – Writing Prompt

Oh my, it’s going to be a scorcher, again.  The heat reminds me of hot summer days in Ohio where I grew up.  Until I was seven, my grandparents lived downstairs and my cousins lived next door. We didn’t have air conditioning and summers were spent outdoors in the shade of the crab apple tree. While the grownups drank iced coffee and ate watermelon, my cousin Mimi and I would run through the sprinklers and swing on the hammock, only taking a break to eat frozen orange juice popsicles my grandmother made in ice cube trays.  I don’t think we felt the heat much back then. We were too busy being kids and having fun.

At night, when it was too hot to stay in our apartment, my parents would take the 1955 Buick, windows down, wind blowing in our faces, for a ride in the country to see when the corn might be ready at the farm stand. It had to be “as high as an elephant’s eye” before the farmers would pick it, before we could buy it, bring it home, steam it, and slather it with butter and salt.

The best part of July was my birthday. Regardless of the heat, my grandmother would bake my favorite treat–cinnamon buns frosted with a thick, gooey, sweet glaze. After I licked the icing from the pan, my grandfather and I would go outside.  I’d follow him around the yard while he watered the garden, squealing with delight when he missed a plant and watered me instead.

The highlight of my birthday was snowballs. That’s right–snowballs in July.  During the inevitable winter snowstorms, my grandparents would make snowballs and store them in the freezer. At the hottest time of the day, my grandmother would bring them out on a platter and the games would begin. Over the years, we played a snowball version of hot potato, catch, snowball baseball, and snowball tag. And, of course, there was always a snowball dessert, some version of a snow cone, made with maple syrup or strawberry jam.

Today, the temperature is supposed to reach the triple digits.  I don’t live in Ohio any more, but  this afternoon, I plan to make a pot of iced coffee, cut a thick slice of watermelon, turn on the sprinkler,  sit out under the Japanese Maple, and give my cousin Mimi a call to see what she remembers about the hot, hot days of July.

WRITING PROMPT: WRITE ABOUT A HOT SUMMER DAY FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD

Writing Prompt: Write About Your Best or Worst Vacation

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La Manzanilla Mexico

My husband and I just returned from a week in La Manzanilla Mexico, a sleepy little village on the Pacific Coast with great beaches, friendly locals, and delicious cuisine. Although this was definitely not our best vacation, and it was far from being the worst, going there was bitter sweet. The initial plan was to join my friend and her husband, and stay at their palapa. Unfortunately, my friend’s husband had to undergo emergency surgery in December, which was followed by complications, and the day we were scheduled to leave, he was still in the hospital. Of course, a day before our departure, my husband came down with the worst cough and cold he had ever had, but he was determined to not let his health further damper our plans. “Are you sure you don’t have the flu?” I asked, thinking this is how epidemics are started. “No, it’s just a cold,” he assured me. I was not convinced. I thought perhaps we were about to embark on our worst vacation ever.

Armed with an arsenal of cough drops, Sudafed, and Kleenex, the next morning, at the ungodly hour of 3:00 a.m., we headed to the airport leaving plenty of time to park the car and catch our 6:00 a.m. flight. For me, the worst part of travel is figuring out how to navigate in a new city, especially when I don’t speak the language well or understand most of what is being said. Although I took four years of Spanish in college, my command of the language is, well, dreadful. In spite of her husband’s poor health, my friend anticipated my trepidation. Her good friend, Julie, met us as soon as we went through customs. She drove us from the Manzanillo airport, gave us a quick tour of La Manzanilla, pointed out the best places to get coffee, delicious meals, and supplies, and deposited us at the front of the palapa.

At this point my husband’s cold hit a crescendo, but he dragged himself down the hill a block so we could eat dinner before he collapsed on the couch. In the morning, in spite of having a runny nose and a cough that sounded like a barking dog, he was feeling good enough to go out and get some coffee and walk through town. And so, our week of tourism began.

Here are the highlights of not the best or worst vacation ever, but definitely a very good one:   very comfortable accommodations and a wonderful view of the ocean—especially at sunset, delicious coffee at two great locations, wonderful tacos everywhere, fresh fish, fantastic beaches, warm water with perfect waves, a Friday market, an art walk, very friendly locals who seemed to understand my Spanish or more likely, my pointing, an abundance of colorful shops and houses, and some amazing views of the town.

Now for the good news: The day we got back, my friend’s husband came home from the hospital and he is slowly improving.

Writing Prompt: Write About Something That Annoys You

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Writing prompts can be an ideal way to jump-start the 5-minute writing process, which is why I’m going to provide one each time I post. Today’s prompt is: write about something that annoys you. Sometimes the things that bug us can eventually be the source of humor. When you can’t see the humor in the situation or you can’t yet make sense of it, writing is an excellent way to process our feelings.

Dance Class Bullies

For me the issue is the women at my aerobic dance class who believe they are entitled to a certain spot on the floor.  These dance class bullies arrive late, and instead of taking a place that is available, usually in the back of the room, they go exactly where they want to be–regardless of who is standing there. Because most of the women are too nice to stand their ground, they defer. I’ve been watching this for years, and thought I was prepared to handle the situation– stand my ground and not succumb if it ever happened to me.  I’d even mentally rehearsed a sassy comeback, “Oh, I didn’t realize you could reserve a spot on the floor! Do you pay extra for that?”

Last week I had an opportunity to put my plan into action. Generally, I arrive a few minutes before class begins and although I prefer to stand in the second row, just left of center, I’m flexible.  On this particular day, I arrived early enough to grab my most coveted place. While waiting for the class to begin I did a few stretches, smiled at a few of the regulars–women I’ve been dancing with off and on for the past 10 years–and waited for the music to begin. A few moments into the first song, I felt cold hands on my shoulders and heard a voice whisper in my ear, “Chris isn’t here today. Move up so I can stand in your spot.” At the same time, this woman gave me a little shove toward the empty place. My response was visceral. As the fight or flight response kicked in, adrenalin began to flow. Who are you to tell me what to do you little bitch? How dare you!  My rebellious teenage self kicked in, but she wasn’t able to talk. Instead, she moved to the other side of the room where she fumed through the entire workout.

Halfway through the class the bitch apologized.  But the reality is, she got my spot. I too had become a victim of a dance class bully.  All the preparation in the world didn’t save me.  What’s worse, I’ve avoided standing near this woman ever since. Because I believe that experiences like this–that trigger our emotions–are messages in disguise, I’ve been searching for the lesson here. The truth is, I’m still working on it. The situation caught me by surprise and trigger a negative response. By pushing me and telling me what to do, the dance class bully treated me like a child. Emotionally, I reacted like, but fortunately, I was able to contain myself and not say anything I would later regret. I think I got the message, but I’ll know for sure when I can stand by the bully and not let her presence annoy me.

What annoys you?  If you follow this writing prompt, I invite you to post it in the comment section.