Saturday, October 1, 2011

Community Writing Project I

We're kicking off our new blog with a new feature that we're really excited about. We'll now be posting regular writing prompts that give you the opportunity to participate in a collaborative writing exercise with the rest of the MANA family. Take what we give you and see where it takes you in ten minutes; then post your work in the comments, click "Post Comment," and let someone else run with the story for a while!

If you find that a prompt really takes you somewhere, send your work to us and we'll post it on the MANA Browsers page! (http://marketingnewauthors.com/manabrowsers.html)

So with no further ado, here's the first prompt that we've crafted for you:

The leaves on some of the trees were starting to turn yellow. Michael couldn't remember what kind of trees they were, the ones that turned yellow first, just that their flowers were called "catkins." It was bright out, too, like only a clear autumn morning can be. He zipped his new jacket up to his chin and headed to the first day of classes.

Don't be shy, jump on the Comments and let's see what happens! Take this chance to...

Keep writing!

2 comments:

  1. There was no explanation to why Michael’s attention was continually drawn to the view of this autumn day from his class rooms. Was it the brilliance of the Sun catching the leaves like gold coins floating to Earth, or the magic of clouds drifting across the blue sky? He couldn’t keep his attention focused on his new classes. Even the chatter of friends he hadn’t seen over the summer could keep him from feeling a nagging urge to walk out the school into the crisp windy day, and find his way to the old Sunset Cottage. It sat at the forest’s edge over looking the sea, surrounded by the branches of an ancient maple tree well into the changing colours of the season. It was like the tree was calling to him.

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  2. [Submitted via e-mail by Lorraine]

    His fingers clutched around the card in his pocket while he checked the large green street sign above him.

    “Yes, this is the street. Now which way – left or right?” he murmured to himself as she approached him.

    “You look a bit lost.” He looked at her with appreciation as he heard her accented voice.

    “I’m new here and trying to find Bramhurst College. I have the address on this card,” he said, placing the card in her dainty outstretched hand. “Do you know where it is?” Running his hands through his hair, almost the color of the 'catkins', he watched her with eager anticipation. He must be careful not to scare her away. She might become a friend.

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