Writing Prompt

Rewrite a fairy tale from the bad guy’s point of view.

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Stevedori fussed over a bare mannequin, picking imaginary lint from its midriff and brushing its shoulders with the backs of his hands. For the thousandth time, he circled the canvas torso, admiring his work. “Just magnificent,” he muttered again and again. He licked a thumb and dabbed at a leftover dot of chalk only he could see.

“Father?” A young girl stood to the side, eyes wide with concern, but Stevedori paid her no attention. Whoever she was, she could wait until this business with the Emperor was over.

The pair had been ushered, along with the Emperor’s spectacular new outfit, into a room within the royal apartments. Though the room was larger than Stevedori’s entire home and tailor shop, it was clear that this was only the Emperor’s closet. And if Steveordi was correct, it was only one of the Emperor’s closets. The room was lined with dark paneling and deep blue curtains and upholstery that absorbed sound and light both, but a row of large windows brightened it enough to adequately show off Stevedori’s handiwork.

Upon entering, he’d set the mannequin up by the windows and gotten to work. From a large bag he pulled long rolls of crinkly paper. Each of these was unfurled and spread out upon the room’s carpets to reveal nonexistent articles of a rich, decorous robe and gown, one of several from which the Emperor would select for this afternoon’s affairs of state. The long-running war with their neighbor to the north was on the brink of petering out, and today’s ambassadorial visit would seal the final details. Hence the need for a new outfit.

Stevedori lifted each imagined piece, mime-like, from its paper wrappings. He inspected them and fit them in place on the mannequin. It was like piecing together a puzzle, and he went at it with an intensity that caused the girl to wring her hands. She had with her a bag of her own and repeatedly fished from it rolls of fine fabric that she offered to Stevedori as if he was in need of additional materials. He waved the nuisance away and wished the stewards would come retrieve her. Perhaps she was a test, put in the room as a final challenge to his focus and fortitude.

Stevedori continued assembling the Emperor’s new outfit on the mannequin which grew no less nude as he worked. He appeared to carry on a conversation as he went, though when the girl tried to answer – for nobody else was doing so – she was hushed and told to stop interrupting. Stevedori then apologized, perhaps to the mannequin, and continued a debate about how best to present the clothing.

“Don’t be silly, humility is for peasants. We must show you off as the grandest ever to exist.” Stevedori held a needle between his lips and rolled it around with his tongue as he listened to a response only he could hear.

“That’s it,” he answered finally. “Utter confidence. That’s our angle. Anyone who can’t see the magnificence of this outfit is an idiot.”

“No,” he continued after a pause. “I won’t be calling the Emperor an idiot because he will see the magnificence. Just you wait. Oh, he’ll see it alright.”

Finally, when there was nothing more Stevedori could do – when the outfit was pure perfection and any additional attention could only detract from its integrity – he shooed the girl into a corner of the room, returned to stand by his masterpiece, and waited, back straight, for the doors to open. The Emperor was on his way, and Stevedori would dress the man in an outfit that the world would not soon forget.

Writing Prompt

Write a letter to an agent telling her how wonderful you are.

Let me tell you a thing about myself

Dear Ms. Stuffenterkie,

As you are well aware, we live in a dark age of writing and reading. Over recent decades, the collective imagination of the world has dimmed, and those willing to call themselves writers have become fewer and more elusive. Transcripts are now an endangered species. The writing world has frozen over, leaving editors, publishers, book stores and agents like yourself scurrying over the ice-encrusted surface and digging furiously for any sign of paper with words on it.

Where are the books? Where are the authors? Will they ever return?

It is this scene, barren and hopeless, into which I make my appearance. Riding upon the back of a great mastodon, I clutch the beast’s thick, clumpy mane in one hand and the salvation of humanity in the other. Sad, shattered people gather below, so hungry for what I offer that they risk being trampled under mighty columns of fur just for a glimpse. Staring up, they see that I am not swaddled in heavy furs, for the cold of this age does not touch me. They feel it now, too. The warmth I bring radiates outward, and the melodic drip, drip, drip of melting ice begins and increases until it’s a rushing torrent of water flowing outward and away from this once tormented land.

I am the light-bringer. I am Prometheus. And in my hand is The Transcript.

And now The Transcript passes to you. It is up to you, Ms. Stuffenterkie, to spread this message of hope to a frigid world. I have chosen you as my messenger because I know what you are capable of. We all stand on the shoulders of giants, and you have represented many of those upon which I respectfully place my feet. Unlike the mastodons I wintered with, the giants you have nurtured are respectable authors like myself and heroes of ages past. Though I know the world is hungry to hear my stories, I desire to work with someone like yourself who will help ensure they are the best stories they can possibly be and that they find the right ears to help spread them even further.

Given the dearth of authors and transcripts in this cold era, I expect that your first instinct will be to phone me immediately to say, “Yes. Emphatically, yes.” But I ask that you please first read The Transcript I have set before you. Soak it in. Warm your bones. Harken back to the old days when stories were plenty and enjoyable. If my story can remind you of the glory days before the ice came, then – and only then – please contact me with your praise. Then, together, we can save the world and bring an end to this literary ice age.

Sincerely,
The Chad

Writing Prompt

Write a setting based on the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.

The Little Beach

We took turns ducking under a low branch and, once unbent, marveled to see we’d entered a shaded clearing that led onto a tiny and absolutely private beach. Red sand shone like ground up pennies and crunched beneath our sneakers. The shoes were the first clothing to come off, with everything else quickly following.

We danced down to the water, passing out from under the green canopy of hala trees. The sun touched our bare bodies, followed by the gentle island breeze and, finally, the splash of salt water as we kicked into the oncoming surf. She squealed at the inviting warmth of the water, and I pointed out how clear it was.

After some childish splashing and cheering, we spent a few minutes peering like wizards down through the crystal water and seeing who could find the most beautiful shells. Then we dropped them again and retreated to the crimson beach.

On an oversized blanket, we lay in the sun next to each other. She fell asleep, tired from the early morning start, while I stared thoughtlessly at the blueness above. Towards the horizon, a few puffy clouds played in the breeze, slowly tumbling over each other on their way out to sea.

Then I too fell asleep, one pale form next to another on a tiny stretch of maroon bordered by expanses of green on one side and blue on the other.

Writing prompt

Create a character with personality traits of someone you love [I’ll leave my choice for this one unstated] but the physical characteristics of someone you don’t care for [I chose Kim Kardashian].

Meet Shelly Reading

Shelly Reading’s detractors, most of whom have never actually watched an episode of her extended-cable reality show, assume her fame is due solely to two things: For one, she’s the daughter of a B-movie actress whose most shameful flop of a movie magically transformed, decades later, from cinema joke to cult hit after being featured on a movie spoofing podcast; and secondly, Shelly Reading is incredibly, objectively gorgeous.

It’s true – Gallup released a poll showing that, among heterosexual males between the ages of eighteen and sixty-five, about seventy percent had a negative opinion of Shelly Reading and her show. Ninety-nine percent, however, would be more than happy to sleep with the woman. The other one percent, it must be assumed, lied about the heterosexuality thing.

What Shelly Reading’s detractors don’t know – and this is in large part due to the show’s producers playing down any somber truths in favor of zany, drunken comedy – is that Shelly Reading’s rise to fame had very little to do with her actress mother. As for her stunning looks, well, they probably didn’t hurt her career. But the truth is that the now famous reality show, Reading to Distraction, had its roots in a series of family emails that Shelly Reading began sending after the death of her father.

The newsletter, Shelly Reading says, was an attempt to halt the distancing of her brothers and sisters which began after the death of their father, Marco Reading. With their mother long since moved to California, the twelve Reading siblings had been anchored to the New England area by the presence of their father. When he passed, the family started drifting away, spreading out across the country. Shelly Reading heard less and less from her siblings and decided that she, at least, could let them know what she was up to and report any family news she managed to scrape up.

To pad out the weekly emails, Shelly Reading, who admits that healthy doses of red wine have long been a key component to her writing process, got into the habit of sharing and critiquing whatever novel she’d been reading at the time. The critiques, many of which are now shared in the archives section of her personal website, were entertaining and funny enough that her siblings started forwarding them to friends. Shelly’s humor was at once biting and complimentary. She genuinely enjoyed the romance, crime, and thriller genres she read but was well aware of their shortcomings. When discussing a story, Shelly Reading could simultaneously make her readers scornfully laugh at a book’s author and also want to go read that book immediately.

Soon, Shelly Reading was being asked if she would add total strangers to her family newsletter email list, and over time the emails focused less on the family and more on humorous rants and critiques about books and other popular culture. An industrious nephew created a blog for his aunt and showed her how to use it. Through the blog, Shelly Reading shared her comedy with the world, but it was when that same nephew introduced her to YouTube that a star was born. Shelly Reading was a natural in front of the camera, at least after a few glasses of wine, and her hilarious, drunken diatribes on the latest pop-culture had to offer gained her a huge online following.

Shortly thereafter, in a wave of desperate attempts at finding new talent, the Jigsaw Network picked up several internet starlings and threw them at the wall to see if any of them would stick. One did. Reading to Distraction became so popular, in fact, that the network redefined itself around the show and its star. No longer would the Jigsaw Network focus on its original niche of interlocking puzzlery. Jigsaw became synonymous with Shelly Reading and her ever-growing family of in-laws, nieces and nephews, and shows and spin-off properties.

Reading to Distraction was always about making fun of others. It’s never been high-brow comedy, and once the Reading family all clambered aboard with varied attempts to outdo each other and cash in on the Reading name, things only went downhill. Or only got better, depending on your point of view. The show remains immensely popular, and Shelly Reading is the matriarch at the top of it all.

Though she may not speak about her father on the show, she says that he is often in her thoughts, as is that silly little family newsletter she used to send out so long ago. No, Shelly Reading doesn’t email her family any more. When she wants them to know about something that’s happened, she simply turns towards the nearest camera and starts talking.