All posts tagged: writing

The Art of Stillness: Creative Motivation

 Sometimes using your time well or wisely is really just a matter of  being still.” ~Candice Coates via the Lord Jesus I, by nature, am a woman given to hard work. I have an inherent urge and drive to be productive, to seize the moment and bear fruits from my labor. Being still, not producing, often leaves me with an anxious feeling that I have wasted my time, time that I will never get back. The deception of that ideology is one that plagues many of us, I am sure; being still means you have wasted a moment. Years ago, I was presented with the converse of that ideology. I learned that there can be great wisdom in resting…simply being still. All too often we confuse stillness with the lack of productivity. We in the west have been conditioned to believe that if there is no movement then nothing has been done. This is actually an enemy of faith. Faith, as the Bible puts it in Hebrews 11:1, “Faith is the substance of things NOT …

Taking the Scenic Route: Moments of Creative Clarity

“…The race is not given to the swift…” ~Ecclesiastes 9:11 I am, by nature, a person who is all about using every second of every day to my advantage, constantly working out in my mind how to squeeze as much into a moment of productivity as I possibly can. I like to map things out in order to ensure that I have taken the shortest route but achieved the greatest return. I especially held this way of thinking in the world of my fiction writing. So when I set out for the third time in my writing career to complete the writing of a novel in thirty days, the first thought, besides what I would write about, was in how many words would I need to produce in a day. If you do not know, what makes a novel an official novel is the word count. This is the same with Novellas, Short Stories, etcetera. To have a novel, your manuscript must be made up of 50,000 words or more. Trusting God often means taking …

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: May 14, 2018

  OPENING LINE(S): “I’m not going to let you drown,” he said, spitting out salted water. His/Her/My limbs felt like sinking lead in the water but the stranger’s grip on his/her/my collar was more than enough to keep them/us afloat. Solid ground was just in the distance promising safety, explaining why they’d/ I’d jumped in the water in the first place was another problem in and of itself.  RULES:  Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes. Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.” To get the Above Image follow this LINK If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely …

Dinner Plans: Short Story by Candice Coates

Dinner Plans She sat perched on the edge of the table, the tight fold of her interwoven fingers expressed the nervousness that had been concealed in the even tone of her voice and the placid look on her face. Turning fully towards her, he paid closer attention to what she was saying.  For a brief second he hoped he’d heard her incorrectly, but gazing into her eyes he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. “Hannah, you didn’t.” He, unlike Hannah, didn’t try to hide his nerves, they flashed in the pale grey of his eyes and radiated clear to the tip of the butcher knife in his hand. “Dad, the knife. The knife!” Hannah hoped off the table and pried it from his hands placing the parsley coated blade on the chopping block. Tanner wondered by her sudden stillness if she felt as if she were on the chopping block. He was certain she did. He had asked her to be at her best tonight, nagged really, and had been doing so for weeks. It had been …

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 30th 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “She sat perched on the edge of the table, the tight fold of her interwoven fingers expressed the nervousness that had been concealed in the even tone of her voice and the placid look on her face. Turning fully towards her, s/he paid closer attention to what she was saying.” RULES:  Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes. Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.” To get the Above Image follow this LINK If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog. (PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE …

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 23rd 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “Heat spread across my cheeks as Mama turned and gave me that look, the one that said, ‘Don’t make me turn this car around, missy/mister.’ I choked on the angry retort that tickled my tongue and drew my clenched fist beneath my thighs in an attempt not to hit my sister Harriet across the back of her head. Harriet snickered. ” RULES:  Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes. Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.” To get the Above Image follow this LINK If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog. (PLEASE …

There Was Room: A Short Story

The door whispered on its hinges as her fingers gently pushed it open, her stomach leaping as the light from the window washed over the scene inside the room.  Tiptoeing as not to disturb the scene, Nyla eased forward. She pressed her eyes closed pushing away the tears that had misted over her vision. Cale, her young landlord, lay across her bed, his eyes racing back and forward behind closed lids, his lips framed with touches of a sandy blond beard, just slightly open. He was sound asleep with Nyla’s baby boy snuggled against his chest, nestled within Cale’s large hands. Nyla hadn’t been gone away that long, maybe an hour or two. She had to make the rush to the market before the sun dipped below the horizon. They were fresh out of flour and salt, and Nyla needed that in order to get supper ready. That was part of her living agreement, she could stay on at Cale’s farm, as long as she kept the house clean, took care of the lighter chores …

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 16th, 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “The door whispered on its hinges as his/her fingers gently pushed it open, his/her stomach leaping as the light from the window washed over the scene inside the room.  “The look on her face spoke volumes. Her gaze had more intonation and resonance than that which came from spoken words. Instantly she was understood.” RULES:  Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes. Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.” To get the Above Image click and copy the image below (It is a public domain image.) If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words …

Me Too: A Short Story

 She couldn’t stop laughing, not after the words that had just arbitrarily slipped from her mouth, and especially not with him laughing as well.  It was an unfortunate nervous tick of hers–incessant laughter. She’d had it since she was a child. When she was nervous, she laughed. Scared. She laughed. Angry. She laughed. She even laughed when she as sad. Her round of giggles at her grandmother’s funeral had her ushered out of the wake and into the parking lot. Sure, she laughed like most people, when most people laughed, but when she was undeniably embarrassed, she laughed non-stop with horrifying honks and snorts. She didn’t know if he was laughing with her, for nervous sake, or if her mortifying animal sounds were causing him to laugh at her. But what if he was laughing out of pity, laughing because of what she’d said? The thought made her choke and pressed tears from her eyes. They tumbled down her cheeks into the chlorinated water between them. She pressed her eyes closed, too afraid to look at …

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 2nd 2018

 “She couldn’t stop laughing, not after the words that had just arbitrarily slipped from her mouth, and especially not with him laughing as well. ” RULES:  Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes. Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.” To get the Above Image follow this LINK If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog. (PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU.) ~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!