A Tale of Too Many Prompts

Ah, here it is, the first blog post of spring, blossoming like a flower we were promised we’d get to see weeks ago, but wouldn’t you know it–it took its sweet time getting here.

Yes, I’m still bitter about the weather and its inability to follow the natural seasonal progression into spring by mid-March. And yes, I’m sorry it’s been so long since the last blog post. Sadly, due to the amount of snow this past semester, Spectrum missed a lot of meetings, and we had to spend the majority of our sparse meeting time rating the delightful submissions you sent us. Thank you for those by the way–your submissions kept us very, very happy.

But now we’re out of the woods and the issue is nearly printed, and so at our past meeting, we were able to have a writing exercise! To make up for the lack of writing/art prompts over the semester, we took this past meeting as an opportunity to compile LOTS of writing prompts for members to choose from. Below are responses to two of them:

Prompt #1: write an excuse to not do your homework today

I’ve been troubled lately about how much of the Earth’s ocean is still unexplored. Like, what might be down there? I’m not saying I necessarily believe there’s a Pacific Rim situation going on where we can’t see. I’m just saying it might be more beneficial for us as a species to be prepared for that possibility. For that matter, I’m suspicious about the moon, particularly its “dark side.” Isn’t it kind of disturbingly convenient that we know nothing at all about something so close by? There’s just so many weaknesses in our defenses, so easily they could be exploited! And we don’t even know who or what might exploit them! It’s enough to give you the existential night sweats, the trembly kind, ya know? The trembles for the frailty of man. What I’m trying to say is I didn’t write my paper for today.

– Joe Forti

Prompt #2: write from the perspective of a glass on the edge of a table

This is it.
This is how I go.
I always imagined it happening differently
Going down with a shelf of vessels
in a cacophony
of breaking glass
and cursing cries
but no
my end is less exciting
drawn out
unnoticed
who would have thought
life on the edge
would be
this
predictable

– Courtney Langdell

 

— Elke