a podcast about writing, work, and friendship
In Episode 34, we share our responses to the April writing prompt — not an easy one for us! We also share some writing therapy our segment Everything is Terrible/What’s Working Now, and Olivia has a fun revision breakthrough. The episode concludes with the May writing prompt, so respondez sil vous plait. We’d love to read what you come up with. Get the show notes and listen here, or wherever you get your podcasts.
It’s the first episode of the month, which means it’s prompt time! In Episode 30 (holy cow, 30 episodes!), we share our responses to the March writing prompt, which, if you don’t remember it, was the one-word prompt: “peremptory.” In the course of this, we discuss the backstory for Meghan’s novel and how to tell a story from the point of view of a cat. We also share the April writing prompt, from DIYMFA’s Writer Igniter. Get the full show notes here, and check out all our writing prompts here.
In Episode 26, we read through our responses to the February writing prompts – all about adapting your work to the style of a book on your bookshelf.
And, even better, we got a listener prompt response for the January writing prompt, about describing someone’s job search. We loved reading Maria’s response, and we think you’ll like it too.
Finally, we announced our March writing prompt – a one-word prompt:
Full show notes are here.
Hey hey! On the podcast next week, we’ll be sharing our responses to the January writing prompt, and would love to have some of yours to read also. I’ve created this post for you to share your responses and participate in the critique — it’s always so interesting to see the totally different ways the same prompt is interpreted.
You’re welcome to join in here anonymously, or you can send us an email if you are feeling extra shy. It gets easier the more you share, though, so give it a try! We’ll all be kind. Pinky swear.
The giveaway!
This month, we’re trying something new — writer mail! We’ll do a random drawing from the submissions and choose someone to get a small surprise, so send ’em in. One entry per submission, so you can enter multiple times. Post here or email us.
As a reminder of how this works: We do what most people do with writing prompts – i.e. use them for 10-15 minutes to get warmed up. That means we don’t edit them (we write by hand, so when we type it up there may be some basic changes, but we resist the urge to do real work on it).
Otherwise, the rules are simple — note something positive, and make sure suggestions for improvement are constructive. In other words, don’t be mean.
While it’s ok to offer critique without sharing your response in turn, we’d like you to really think hard before doing that, and let it shape your comments.
And now for the prompt!
Monday’s episode was our monthly critique session, and as promised, here’s the first of two posts sharing our responses and comments. It’s not too late to join in — just head to the open thread for December to share yours, or send us an email. You can read Meghan’s response and Olivia’s comments here
The rules are short — note something positive, and make sure suggestions for improvement are constructive. Simply put, don’t be mean.
So here’s Olivia’s response, and my comments below. Remember, these are first drafts written in 15 minutes or so, not polished submission-ready material.
Gareth glanced over his shoulder before talking. Later, he’d remember that glance and wonder who or what he was looking for. He’d left his wife at home – that was smart. She’d hate this whole thing. Maybe he was checking she hadn’t followed him. Not that she would do that.
Maybe it was just living in Moscow for so long that had made him paranoid. And that feeling had followed him here, to New York.
“Don’t you worry about being sued?” he finally asked.
“Sued?” Gabe’s face looked like he’d uncovered a horrible smell. “Why?” He reached up to straighten his tie, then squared his shoulders back.
“What was that saying you Americans have? I always admired it. Something like not eating where you –”
Gabe’s head lolled back his mouth open in a dramatic imitation of laughter, but the sound was controlled. “I love the Americanisms you know, Gareth.” He slapped his hands on the table, again with a surprisingly muted sound, as if all his movements were performed through a thin film of cotton gauze. The opposite of projecting from a stage. “No, I’m not worried. To answer your original question.”
“You’ve never had any complaints?”
“Not in that department.” Gabe tore open the crusty roll that had been dropped on his plate. He tilted his head towards the wall, as if his exploits had happened in the next room. “Times have changed, man. They’re so ambitious, they’ll do anything.”
Gabe picked up his knife, spread butter on one half of the roll. “And they don’t have all those prudish hang-ups your generation, and even mine to some extent, had. The young ones need to sow their wild oats, as much as we did.”
Gareth felt a pang of, what?, not exactly jealousy, but something else – regret, maybe, like he always did when he heard men bragging about their sex lives. I could have that, he thought. And then, as usual, something inside him shrugged. He took a long drink of his beer, letting it wash into him. It tasted flat, or old.
“Anyway, that’s not why we’re here, right? Didn’t you want to ask me about someone? Are you poaching one of our people?” Gabe waved at the waitress to get her attention, holding up two fingers to sign for more beer.
“Oh yeah. I almost forgot.”
Gabe did his quiet chortle again. “Business really is doing well. Before, you definitely couldn’t compete with our salaries.”
“I’m not. She left you guys a while ago, the girl we’re talking to. She won’t say why.” He paused, letting that phrase hang there, then lifted the corners of his mouth into a smile. “Anna Davis – know her?”
Gabe clinched his jaw as the waitress put the beers on the table.
Meghan’s comments:
All in all, this was a tough exercise for both of us. Working with characters we already know so well, and outside the confines of our establishes stories, we both felt like we didn’t want to speculate too far afield. However, it’d be great for digging into a new project, and it was still really great to stretch ourselves here.
Hey hey! In case you haven’t figured it out, we really love seeing your writing. It’s so cool how people interpret the same prompt so differently, and we’ve seen some very clever responses. SO, we totally respect wanting to keep your responses private, and get it if sharing them with just us is putting yourself out there enough, BUT just in case some of the rest of y’all want to get in on this writing prompt every month, here’s the open thread for posting your responses and critiques.
As a reminder of how this works: We do what most people do with writing prompts – i.e. use them for 10-15 minutes to get warmed up. That means we don’t edit them (we write by hand, so when we type it up there may be some basic changes, but we resist the urge to do real work on it).
Otherwise, the rules are simple — note something positive, and make sure suggestions for improvement are constructive. In other words, don’t be mean.
While it’s ok to offer critique without sharing your response in turn, we’d like you to really think hard before doing that, and let it shape your comments.
Ok, enough chatter. The prompt:
As promised last week, we’re posting our responses to November’s writing prompt, with comments. The rules are short — note something positive, and make sure suggestions for improvement are constructive. Simply put, don’t be mean.
So here’s Olivia’s response, and my comments below. Remember, these are first drafts written in 15 minutes or so, not polished submission-ready material (although I was super impressed with Olivia’s). My response and Olivia’s comments are here.
Grace froze when she heard the knock on the door. One arm was outstretched, her hand grasping the hairy-barked pine log she had been feeding into the dark mouth of the fireplace. She was glad she hadn’t lit the fire yet. She propped herself up on the other elbow.
The knock came again, harsher this time. Impatient. It knew she was inside.
Both of her arms were starting to shake. She ease the wood onto the sooty stone hearth, silently, then dragged herself across the floor. Her thick skirts picked up twigs, beetle carcasses and small clumps of mud, leaving a clean-swept trail behind her.
Another knock. Not even waiting to listen.
As she moved, she searched the sparse room again, pointlessly scanning the dusty surfaces for a girl-sized crevice. Even the kitchen had only shelves, no cupboards.
The metal latch clicked but did not give itself up. And so the cheap door began rattling in its frame, asking for entry at first, then demanding it. Fierce.
She pulled herself up onto the austere wooden chair behind the door, arranging herself into her most natural position. This always took time, otherwise something about her angles were wrong. Gave her away immediately.
But she didn’t have time. Her leg dangled awkwardly as the door gave way. A panting bearded man swept in, blue moonlight and frost swinging in on his cape.
And the comments:
Did you write something for this prompt you’d like to share? Email us, or leave it in the comments!
Happy Thanksgiving week to those in or from the United States, and happy penultimate day of November to everyone else. We’re so grateful for each and every one of you!
This week, we give some podcast recommendations in response to a listener question, and we do a mini-critique session for this month’s writing prompt. Then we wrap up with nine tips for surviving Thanksgiving (or any busy or disruptive period). Watch this space for the full set of tips later this week, as well as our writing prompt responses.
Click over here for the full show notes, and as always, you can get Marginally on iTunes, Stitcher, Google Play, or wherever get your podcasts.
“Have a seat.” Gareth turned away from the window and waved towards a chair in front of his desk.
I squeezed past the desk and settled between the chipped maple arms, onto the seat made of worn office-blue fabric with tiny pink dots. He pulled the tall leather chair back from his desk and sat, gazing patiently at me from a chair set at considerable height. I felt like I was visiting the principal’s office, seven years old, sulking in cheap mass-produced furniture.
“I made some calls.”
“What did they say? Will he live?”
Gareth shook his head, almost shrugged. “They still don’t know.”
We sat for a few seconds in empty quiet. I let the image of Igor, surrounded by doctors, sink in.
“But he’s in London?”
Gareth nodded, his eyes betraying a feint surprise – perhaps that I was still there.
“Getting the best care, at least.” My words felt flippant, revealing how much I wanted to pretend that everything was okay.
“Anna, I think you should go –” he glanced around the room, pausing deliberately “– on the business trip. That we planned.”
“We – um, did?”
“The meetings in London?” He nodded, eyebrows raised.
I frowned, shook my head, then belatedly noticed the way he’d left spaces between the phrases, like signs in the words, to lead me through the conversation.
“You have two days. After that, I can’t guarantee anything.” He pulled open the drawer, pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“It’s your ticket.”
I smiled at the ink-jet-printed page, with its black and white Russian airline logo. As if nothing on the internet was real unless it was transferred to paper.
Remember, this is really draft and we haven’t particularly edited it – we wanted to be genuine with you! This is a great way to realize that everything can be revised, that each comment isn’t a way to say you can’t write something, but just a suggestion for how to make it better in the next draft.
We’d love to hear your responses — send them to us and let us know if you’d like them to be featured on the show.
“Roz.” Margot beckoned from the doorway of her office. Her face was blank – for me, or for my coworkers’ benefit, I couldn’t tell. I unhooked from the network and stood.I waited in front of Margot’s desk while she closed the blinds on both the office-facing window and the one that overlooked the street outside. Margot shut the door.“There’s been a mistake,” she said. Then she disappeared.Just — gone. I ran over to her desk and looked behind it, frantic. I crawled on the floor — maybe she was hiding under the desk — but she wasn’t there. There was no sign of her, nothing left behind, except me.Sweat rolled down my sides from under my arms, and I sat back against the gray steel cabinet in the corner to think. No one could know. I had to get out, fast.The handle of the cabinet dug between my shoulder blades and I turned. The drawer wasn’t closed all the way. Something [[i don’t know what – I haven’t figured that out yet]] was wedged inside. I pulled it out and slipped it in my waistband.With one last look, I slipped out of the door. “Thanks, Margot,” I said as I closed it. “Yep, I’ll take care of that.”I couldn’t leave right away – I needed to know if Margot’s absence was discovered, and I couldn’t look suspicious. I needn’t have worried. The afternoon crawled by and by the time I left, I was a wreck. I hadn’t done a thing, unable to face connecting again in case someone was able to read what had happened, and I had no idea how I could find out about the [[[whatever thing]]] I had found without being tracked.As soon as I got home, I checked both rooms in my apartment, every cupboard, every corner.
But overall, we really enjoyed this process – although it was scary – and we look forward to hearing from you all.