Red Wolf Prompts Is Our New Prompt Site

Hi guys,
Our prompt site has migrated.

If you still wish to follow our writing prompts, take note. Prompt 331 onward will be at
Red Wolf Prompts.

This site shall be turning into … a graveyard, pretty soon.

Unless you particularly wish to haunt the dead, you could follow us at the land of the living.


Prompt for RWJ, Prompt 330

Anyone still keeping up with writing? Posting? Doing this thing? I had wanted this to end. Then anyway it did not. But doesn’t mean that it will still continue. Because there’s always change. Things evolve. I don’t like to keep repeating. But maybe the biggest change is our attitude. When we age, the ball of our eye changes. That’s what she said. Does that change our sight for the better? It does, amazingly. So yea, write about change.

Prompt for RWJ, Prompt 329

It’s late and my body’s tired but my heart, it knows not itself till I have written. Sometimes it’s like that. It’s like writing allows me to interrogate it. You’ll know what I mean if you’re a writer. And a writer is a thinker, is she not? So if one does not write, one cannot really know what one thinks. And if one thinks, one must write. Of course there’re people who give zero fucks about poetry. They’re a specimen too. They’re meant to be something else probably. So do what is natural and necessary for yourself. Know thyself–that’s a quest. That’s your prompt, about knowing yourself, in your bones kind of way. What you’re a specimen of.

Prompt for RWJ, Prompt 328

Hey guys you know that poetry is fiction, right? Even if it seemed all too real. It really is made up stuff. So that’s what happens when you write. You make stuff up. You’re telling a story. Story-telling. Except that it’s the most economical type of story-telling, unlike a short story or novel. It’s a good medium if you’re sloppy economical like me. In the corporate world, there’s storytelling too, except that it’s more to do with brand messaging. Well in that case may I ask you to show how your poem does your messaging through storytelling. There’s good storytelling and bad storytelling, especially in poetry. What I mean is, economy is usually a virtue in poetry.

Prompt for RWJ, Prompt 327

The earth seems to be starring in a potboiler of natural disasters. I have no words really. We already know about climate change and are experiencing its impact. And when disaster strikes, there’s also the disparities between rich and poor countries. I mean, there’re floods in Bangladesh too. Do we think about the disparities between the way we live, with all our modern excesses, and the way someone in Ethopia lives, who does not even have access to clean water and have to survive on jerry cans of water? How do we get out of the veritable mess? What can one do, in our personal, limited capacities? The prompt is to write about natural disasters and how one copes.

Prompt for RWJ, Prompt 322

It’s been a while since I last wrote a poem. So I stayed up late to write one. So what has poetry to do with flood relief? Well, Josh Medsker will be reading the first poems out in our Fall/Winter 2017/2018 issue on Monday, 4 Sept 2017. The poems are by Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois, a clinical psychologist. Josh’s asking for you to make a small donation to flood relief in Houston. We do what we can right? I am heartened when I see photos of rescue. Thanks to all the guys who are doing flood relief work there. The prompt is to write about rain.
Stay tuned to Josh on Facebook here.

Prompt for RWJ, Prompt 246

In looking at your storyline, you might want to include births. Every life begins with a birth. A lot of stories begin with “I was born on (this date).” They normally don’t say “I died on (this date)” unless it’s a posthumous narrator. So I’m suggesting to you to write a birth story. Whose birth story? You get to decide, since you’re the omniscient narrator. Or the other option is to think of the beginning of stories. How does one begin? Here’s one example from Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, which is an all-time favorite story of mine.

“My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.”

Include some kind of genealogy detail if you feel like it.

In case you missed it, please check my previous post. You know, so I don’t have to repeat myself. Search Prompt 244.