#twh365promptchallenge

[thewritershelpers]

Cancellation of 365-Day Prompt Challenge

Let’s not call it a goodbye; it’s more of a pause… a “See You Later”, if you will. 

For now, we are putting the 365-Day Prompt Challenge on hold. Life happens, and it’s not fair to you, but K and myself want to get this blog back and running and in tip-top shape. We want this to be an oasis for writers old and new, and right now,that means putting this incredible challenge on hold. 

Will it come back? Absolutely. January 1st, we’re planning on starting it all over again.

What does this mean for now? H is going to pick a winner to receive a specially put together box by her, filled with goodies and books and more. 

When will we know who won? H will be contacting the winner by September 1st for their address to send their goodies to!

Just keep your eyes and ears open, because we will be announcing things, soon.

-The Writers’ Helpers

[myrandomdoodlesnstuff]

Writing prompt and made into a fun doodle too.

[amberoodle]

prompt challenge day 7

“daytime ghost sighting”

I was wandering around the craft section of Barnes and Nobel when it happened. I turned a corner and there she was. A transparent-ish looking woman looking at a book that had fallen on the floor. I was too shocked to scream and she started waving her hands as soon as she saw me. "So I'm guessing you can see me" she whispered. I think she was worried about scaring me away. "Doesn't everybody see you?" "No." "It takes a certain kind of person to see a ghost" she sighed. "What are you doing in a Barnes and Nobel?" I simply had to know. "I really just miss reading books" she said very matter of factly. I honestly don't know what I expected her to say but I laughed at the simplicity of her answer. If I'm a ghost I think I'll haunt bookstores too.

[mareebrittenford]

Prompt Challenge: Day 13

Recreate Admin H’s response below. No word count limit. 

Admin (H) Response:

The boy walked slowly, dragging the Christmas tree behind him; his backpack falling off his shoulder, and a trail of pine needles following him home. 

All the fallen line the sidewalks, waiting to be ‘collected.’ It hurt the boy’s soft heart. A week ago they had been the center of the ritual, and now they were discarded, trash. He chose one that still seemed quite green. The empty lot behind his house started to become a pine forest.

[makeusfly]

I’m a little late to the party, but can we just embrace the fact that I showed up at all?

Name: Kari

Age: 24

Gender Identity: female/she/her

Sign: Libra, Neutral good

My appearance: I currently have blue hair, but my strawberry-blonde roots are showing.  I am short, shorter than entirely reasonable.  And LOTS of freckles, everywhere.  Did I mention I’m so white I burn under the moon?

Love: books, my car Layla, dark chocolate, sweet tea, Guinness, New York, coffee, Psych!, Phineas and Ferb.  Hate: James Patterson, L.A., long drives with my mother, my Samsung Galaxy, the patriarchy.

What’s in my bag: a book and pen (always), strawberry lip gloss in a Poppy (from Trolls) case, Finding Dory travel-sized tissues, Beautiful Day scented hand sanitizer, a llama keychain, a gold Starbucks card.

Currently reading: The Secret History of Wonder Woman by Jill Lepore.

Genres you write: Anything but smut, and that’s just because I haven’t figured out how yet.

Genres you like/dislike: I’m not one for drama. Too much second-hand embarrassment/anxiety.

[theninjaofcake]

Meet the Writer

Hi everyone! =D I’m participating in the 365-day writing challenge brought to you by @thewritershelpers !! January 20th’s prompt was “Meet the writer,” so it was asked that we could post these on tumblr to get to meet other writers who are also participating in the challenge! So, here’s my response! =D

Name: Zora Renata (though that’s just an alias :’D I’m a bit paranoid about putting my real name out there aha..)

Birthday: September 19th

Gender Identity/Pronouns: I’m a female, preferred pronouns are she/her

Sign: Virgo-Libra cusp

Myers-Briggs Type: INFP (The Mediator)

Appearance: Well, I’m 5’1, so I’m pretty short. I never sleep so I usually look tired… At all times of the day. I get the usual four hours at least with the occasional all nighter. My eyes are dark brown with lil specks of darker brown and I have dark, short hair that angles down from the back of my neck to just a little bit past my chin. Usually can be found either wearing jeans or joggers with hoodies, which with me being on the skinnier side, the hoodies make me seem smaller than what I actually am. I have a squishier face and a slight Roman nose, which I’m not too big of a fan of. What else… I have black glasses which I won’t wear too often even though my sight is so bad. About it!

Things I Like: Ninjago, Nexo Knights, Red vs. Blue, Pokemon… I really like to write, I love boxing (I do it and lemme tell you guys, it’s a blast.), I like to build Lego sets, I love engineering, I’m not the best artist…I still doodle though. I really like dogs, cats, lizards, CAKE- Lemme tell you, I’m a big time stress baker, so I’m always baking and cooking stuff. It’s really calming. I love baking stuff- Cupcakes, cake, cookies, brownies, cheesecake now. I’m a big fan of baking. I also really like sleeping but I don’t really do it too often. I really like all of my friends and I wish for them to have the absolute best in life because they deserve it ;u;

Things I Dislike: There’s not too many things I dislike, but since I do wanna keep this somewhat positive, I don’t think I’ll list my dislikes ;u;

What’s In My Bag: Inside of my bag (which is a cute lil penguin) you can find money thrown in there, a tiny water bottle, a few band-aids, a pen, my 3DS, keys, phone, and a portable charger with the cord. ;u;

Currently Reading: Riders by Veronica Rossi

What Genres I Write: I’m really into writing action-adventure stuff with platonic relationships between friends (you can rarely find relationships in my books tbh. There’s so many books with romance, I take it upon myself to write books without it), I do love writing mystery stories too. I’m a big time writer of angst and death and that stuff, so my stories are always a bit on the darker side. I do love writing fluff though, I gotta have some of that in my works even if I’m not the best at writing for it… Not too great at writing romance aha.

What Genres I Dislike: Not too many, but it’s mostly romance. A lot of times for me and I’ve come to notice with some stories is that romance kills the plot, it ruins the book as it comes to center around the romance between two characters. You can have such a great concept and have it be ruined by love quarrels. Romance comes to annoy me as, by miscommunication or something so dumb and small, that the two characters just immediately think that the person doesn’t love them, or that the person never cared, or anything like that. I rarely find myself liking a pair in a story who are tied together by love. Not only that, but romance tends to be in so many of the YA books at my school that it’s sort of impossible to find a book without it or at least with a DECENTLY written relationship. Romance just tires me out, and I’m not entirely too into relationships myself so most of the time when people are being affectionate or doing stuff in books, I get really uncomfortable with it, but that’s just me.

Random Fact: I’ve had surgery before when I was like 13 or something on the back of my neck, so there’s still a scar there that’s visible now that my hair cut shows it. I get asked a lot of questions about it but I don’t really mind- I just mind when people like… Prod at it, the scar and area still hurts a bit. Being honest, with the surgery, I think they accidentally messed with a nerve or something that goes to my left arm on accident or something because that hand seems to tremble a bit more after the surgery than how my right hand does. It doesn’t interfere with my writing though but I do notice it when I’m not doing anything with my hands.

[the-word-vvitch]

Prompt Challenge: Day 3

In at least 500 words, describe how the member of a cult came to join their congregation. They can be a former or present member.

The newspaper headlines chased Andrew everywhere he went. “Sixty Dead in Mass Suicide,” “Children and Elderly Among Victims,” and “Eleanor Blithe: Cult Leader Lives,” were just some of the ones that jumped out at him. Every time he caught a glimpse of the news or overheard people casually discussing the tragedy in disapproving tones, Andrew’s stomach would churn threateningly. It was easy for outsiders to judge those who were now deceased and unable to defend themselves. They didn’t have a clue what it was like; what she was like. No one could tell by looking at Andrew how close he’d come to being part of that statistic.

It had only been three years since Andrew had first heard of The Children of Paradise. Headed by Eleanor Blithe, self-titled as the Beloved Healer, the Children of Paradise promised salvation from the harsh realities of the modern world. At sixteen years of age, with an overflowing font of anger, frustration and angst aimed at society in general, Andrew had been easily won over by the cult. He’d first heard about them through his best friend Nick, who in turn had learned about them through his cousin Stacy. Stacy, who was in her early twenties and one of the earliest members to join, had raved about how supportive the community was and the purported “miracles” that Blithe had performed.

The Children of Paradise boomed in popularity over a short period of time. Eleanor Blithe appeared on talk shows, radiating charm. Radio stations interviewed members who had moved out to the isolated plot of land owned by the cult, all of whom seemed to agree that they’d never known such happiness. Forums sprang up online praising the movement. On the rare occasion that someone created a thread with less than stellar views regarding the cult and its treatment of its “Children”, dedicated members were quick to bombard the post with assurances to the contrary. Everything seemed to be going well for the cult. That’s when Andrew and Nick decided to join the “Children”. Nick had sent a letter to Stacy, asking if they could temporarily stay with her and her new husband, Bill. She heartily agreed. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, Andrew and Nick left notes behind for their parents before catching a ride out of town from a friend.

Upon arrival at their new home, nothing seemed astray. The people were dressed in simple white clothing and there were designated community labour hours; aside from this, it seemed no different from a friendly neighbourhood. They were asked to give up their phones and all other similar gadgets, so that the toxicity from the outside world, with its news and politics and economically driven system, couldn’t affect those within. Gladly doing so, Andrew realised later that this also helped stop those inside from getting out.

Eleanor asked to speak with both of them individually before welcoming them to the community. She was as intoxicatingly charismatic in person as she was on television. With greying hair and twinkling green eyes, she radiated the kindness expected of a grandmother. Somehow she seemed to know what one was thinking and had exactly the right words to soothe their fears. With this talent for reading and manipulating people, the “Children” more than willingly followed her. They believed they loved her. They would do anything for her.

That year the cult’s first wave of children were born. “Contraception is a hindrance here,” Eleanor had explained. “We’re trying to fill the world with love, not stop its growth.” About twenty three babies arrived within a month of each other. Suddenly the waddling of mothers with their red bellies on the brink of bursting was replaced by the piercing wails of the new arrivals. Andrew, now seventeen years old, was in the process of “the bonding”, a time when members who were old enough were paired off with suitable companions. Nick had been given a bride named Henrietta and after two months together they were expecting their first child. Andrew, meanwhile, was matched with a girl named Lily. With blond curly hair and a peaches and cream complexion, she was pretty enough, but her devotion to Blithe surpassed obsession. If she perceived even the slightest of slights against their Beloved Healer, she would break down into hysterics and report the culprit to the Protectors, a group who had been selected to manage the running of the community. Punishments were not discussed. It was obvious enough who had been disciplined by the blood streaks down the back of their white garbs. Soon enough everything returned to normal and the victims were welcomed back by the other Children.

It was around this time that Andrew started noticing issues with the way the Children of Paradise did things. From subjects that hadn’t been publicly deemed taboo but were all the same, to the biased system that favoured higher ranking members, the most obvious oddity was the way the Children would discuss the newborns. Rather than addressing them as living beings, the children would be referred to as “vessels”. Unnecessary physical contact with the babies was discouraged. Stacy’s own daughter would sit alone in her crib, waiting for love and attention, while her parents talked amiably with their friends, passing dinner plates around their dining room table. Parents were only to give them enough comfort to stop them from crying.

When Lily reported Andrew one day over a simple misunderstanding, he emerged from the Protectors’ tent a changed man. His back stinging from where it had been struck repeatedly with a belt, he decided he had had enough. Meeting resistance from both Nick and Stacy when he told them of his plans to leave and begged them to come with him, Andrew returned home alone. The spell Blithe had woven was broken.

Every now and then he received a letter from Nick, mentioning Henrietta and the hopes they had for their “vessel”.

“Eleanor tells us the vessels will be our salvation,” Nick wrote in one of them. “We must protect them and in turn, they will save us.” He didn’t know why, but Andrew felt uneasy about the contents of those letters, and eventually stopped reading them altogether.

Unaware that disaster had occurred, Andrew woke up a year later and as per usual loaded his homepage, a news website that he read every morning while having his coffee. That’s when he found out what had happened. The police were investigating, but it was revealed that Eleanor Blithe and forty-eight babies were the sole survivors of an apparent mass suicide. The contents of Andrew’s stomach erupted through his mouth onto his keyboard while horror froze his every cell. Nick, Henrietta, Stacy, Bill, Lily… every single person there that he had come to know and care for was dead. All of them except for the woman that they did it for.

More details were released. Instructed by Blithe, the Children of Paradise had come to believe that their newborns possessed no souls; that they were merely vessels awaiting the insertion of one. Promising freedom from their woes and offering to raise them all herself, Blithe convinced her Children that rebirth through these vessels was the only option to reach a civilisation free of capitalism and violence. One by one, they each gladly gave their lives to reach their longed for “Paradise”.

“So stupid,” Andrew heard one woman say in the office where he worked.

“I couldn’t even imagine living like that,” added another.

“What on earth were they thinking?”

Andrew wanted to tell them they didn’t know what they were talking about, but he kept his mouth shut. They wouldn’t understand.

A picture of Eleanor Blithe stared up at him from a newspaper on his desk. Her smile unfaltering, she looked the same as the day she had sat across from Andrew in her tent.

Everyone thought the worst was over, but Andrew knew better. As long as Blithe was alive, as long as she still mastered the same control she had over people, there would always be those who would listen to her and hear not madness, but peace.

It could all happen again. That, more than the deaths, terrified Andrew to his core.

Word count: 1398

[thewritershelpers]

‘Cause I’m on Top of the World, ‘ey!

Hey, hi, hello!

You are probably wondering where we’ve been. To say that we owe you all an apology is a massive understatement. But we are sorry. Really, really sorry.

There are excuses and reasons (like H not having a computer from March until literally 3 days ago and K having serious family emergencies) that you probably don’t want to hear... So we won’t bore you with that.

Instead, we’re here to thrust all the gifts upon you! So, here it goes:

What’s up with the 365-Day Prompt Challenge?

We are now 136-Days behind. And that’s a huge, overwhelming amount of prompts to even think about being able to finish by the end of the year. So,we’ve come up with a compromise (so both you, the followers, and me, H, don’t go completely bananas):

We’re going to post 7-longer prompts starting tomorrow, July 26th, along with the daily prompt. You’ll have until the end of August to complete them, as they are going to take up more time. There will be a separate submission link. Completing ALL 7 keeps you in the running to win. 

What is the 365-Day Prompt Challenge? Check that out, here.

[EDIT:] First makeup prompt will be posted tonight, 07/25/17, around 10pm PST.

What else is there to come?

We have lots of treats coming up for you, including new content, possible live-streams, NaNo-Prep, and stuff that involves you. We will be pretty spammy for the next week or so, but we will try to space it out! We apologize in advance! 

But for now, send us what you’d like to see, what you’d like to see more of, or if you just wanna send some lovin’, send us some of that, too! 

-H & K, Head Housekeepers

[amberoodle]

prompt challenge 11

“ghost story”

I was wandering around the craft section of Barnes and Nobel when it happened. I turned a corner and there she was. A transparent-ish looking woman looking at a book that had fallen on the floor. I was too shocked to scream and she started waving her hands as soon as she saw me.

"So I'm guessing you can see me" she whispered. I think she was worried about scaring me away. 

"Doesn't everybody see you?" 

"No." "It takes a certain kind of person to see a ghost" she sighed. 

"What are you doing haunting a Barnes and Nobel?" I simply had to know. 

"I miss reading," she said very matter of factly. I honestly don't know what I expected her to say but I laughed at the simplicity of her answer. If I'm a ghost I think I'll haunt bookstores too. 

I found out that the ghost's name was Vivian. She did craft shows during her retirement and wanted to know what was trending in the craft world since she'd passed away. I had her follow me out to my car because I didn't want to look like I was talking to myself in public. Once we were inside the vehicle I asked her if it was ok for me to hold my phone so it looked like I was on speaker. She was fine with that. I proceeded to tell her about myself and learned quite a bit about her life. It was actually one of the nicest conversations I've had with a stranger in a long time. 

"I wish I could have known you when you were alive," I said with a half-hearted smile, "I think we could have been friends". 

"Oh no dear, it's better this way." "I had dementia for several years I think before I passed on and I was not a pleasant person to be around." 

This made me incredibly somber which Vivian picked up on. 

"I'm glad I'm here now though because on occasion I get to meet nice people like you". 

I was slightly hesitant but decided to put my feelings aside and offer Vivian a place at my house. It was a way for her to have a steady residence where she could be left alone any time she'd like and I could even set up a cozy space for her. She laughed but declined. 

"When you've been cooped up in one room as long as I was, you miss the crowds and the people watching". 

"I have to get going soon Viv, but I'm glad I got to meet you." My eyes were welling up a little. 

"You can come see me anytime you can find me at this bookstore" she reassured me. 

“How do I find you if you leave?" I mumbled. 

"Say my name three times in a mirror and throw some salt over your left shoulder and I will come to you" she instructed. 

"Wow really?" 

"Oh ho ho ho, no dear" she chuckled "you'll have to excuse me, I don't often get to joke with the living". "The only thing that will do is get salt all over". She took my hand and smiled warmly at me. "Some people are only in your life for a short time and that's ok." "There are very few people you should ever hold on tight to and I'm a wandering spirit so I'm not one of them."

 I looked down and nodded slowly. 

"If fate has a reason for us to meet again, trust me we will," she said as she started fading out of my car. 

I started my engine and screamed as Vivian's face entered the black screen on my phone. "I swear to all things good Viv you're going to have me floating around with you if you keep this up". I was doing that weird panic laugh as I scolded her. 

"I just wanted to know what coffee shops you would recommend." "I think I want to ease drop on some college kids". 

I smiled and held my phone up to the building across the street. It was less than a mile from campus and was bound to have what she was looking for. She thanked me and closed her eyes. When she opened them again she was still there. 

"What's happening dear" she said in a slightly panicked voice. 

"I don't know... you tell me". 

"I think I'm stuck." "I can't get out of this device" 

Now I was the one laughing. "Good one Viv". 

"No, I'm seriously stuck in here". 

"What are we supposed to do?" 

"I'm not sure but we'll figure something out," Viv said not entirely convincing her or myself. 

"I guess you're stuck with me for at least a little while” I replied as optimistically as I could. "I have to go to work". She was relieved that it was at the coffee shop I had directed her to. At least her next few hours wouldn't be boring. As it turned out neither would mine. Not by a longshot.  

[mareebrittenford]

Prompt Challenge: Day 15

Pick a stranger on public transportation to observe and describe them. Write where you think they’re going or coming from. No limit.

Note: If you don’t take public transportation, feel free to observe a stranger in a public place.

The boy slumps down into the seat, his pudgy body curled around the phone in his hands, the most precious of his possessions. He frowns, intensely focused on making out images through the spiderwebing of the cracked screen. Seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, he passes the trip in utter silence, not even taking the time to unwind the headphones wrapped around the device.

His stop comes and he rises, and exits, his eyes never wavering from his screen.

[the-word-vvitch]

Prompt Challenge: Day 2

In no more than a paragraph, describe a scenario using the pictures from this article here.

She'd heard that drowning wasn't loud like it was in the movies. When the water wrapped around her, pulling her down, the silence was overwhelming. The current pushed her back up, teasing her with one last glimpse of the blue sky above, before dragging her into the black unknown below. 

[thewritershelpers]

Prompt Competition

Hey all! Thank you for patiently waiting for us to get it together. Come Wednesday, I will be posting prompts in batches of 10 per post (for a total of 5 posts, under a read more so it's not clunky). You will have until July 1st to get them all done and up to date. There will be links and all that jazz to get you caught up. Sorry for the wait! -H

[rileylefae]

Day 20-Meet the Writer

Name: Well my birthname is Robyn but almost everyone calls me Riley (bar family)

Age: I'm 20, born on the 24th August

Gender Identity/Pronouns: Cigender female who uses she/her

Sign/Blood Type/Myers-Briggs Type: My sun sign is Virgo, INFP/ISFP. A proud Hufflepuff

A drawing of yourself:  Average height and weight and often looks angry. Long brown-ish hair that's often pulled back into a high ponytail or a bun. With it being later winter, I'm always in jeans in either blue or black with a pair of running shoes and a large burgundy hoodie or a green-ish winter coat.  

Things you like and things you dislike: I like to write, read, draw and play video games. I dislike having to get up early and ignorant people. Also chickens.

What’s in my bag?: Two pads in one of those fancy metal boxes, my purse, chapstick and my keys. I often have my Ipod on me but it's usually in my pocket.

Currently Reading: Currently reading Six of Crows, Queen of Shadows and The Wolf Wilder. I've started the Sword of Truth series but I need to get my dad to give me the second book. Also need to re-start Mists of Avalon

What genre(s) do you write: Fantasy mostly? I've never been very good settling into genres and they all lead back to Fantasy anyway. They're probably all YA because I enjoy those.

What genre(s) do you like/dislike: I love YA but I've dabbled into Historical fiction and sci-fi thanks to Matthew Reilly. But I stick mostly to YA 'cause I know it's something I like. I usually dislike crime/mystery but I've only read like 2 of them? And I didn't enjoy them but I was younger when I read them.

[amberoodle]

Writing Prompt 1.0

Prompt Challenge: Day 1 “It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?” Write a un-traditional New Years Eve kiss scene in less than 200-words.

I’m looking up how to remove sharpie from skin. 2017 is off to a great start. Being over 2016, I planned an uneventful New Years Eve. 2016 had other plans.

I ordered pizza and cheese bread for twenty and drank as I waited. Hearing my buzzer I opened the door enthusiastically.

I handed twenty to the startled delivery girl, and took the pizza with drunken excitement. Gratefully I kissed her on the lips then slammed the door in horror.

A muffled “hello” broke my shock. I forgot her tip. Opening the door to apologize she handed me cheesy bread and kissed me. “New Years Eve tradition” she smirked walking towards her car. Still forgot the tip. I wrote on my hand to call the pizza place tomorrow.

A note on my bread bag read “My number incase you need more sauce”. I texted “Smooth operator”. She responded “lousy tipper” with a winkey face. “Tradition” to which she replied “cheesy… see what I did there?” I sent emojis, giggled, and laid on my couch.

My first text of 2017 was from her. Backwards writing was on my cheek from sleeping on my hand. 2016’s last trick couldn’t shake 2017’s great start.

[mareebrittenford]

Prompt Challenge: Day 14

In 300 minimum, describe a walk in nature.

The horizon seemed to stretch and expand as the town was left behind, and the strange sort of silence that you get out here wrapped around the boy. A different silence to the one you get inside walls. Out here the silence is loud, filled with the wind and the calls of birds and sounds of insects. Yet he could feel himself soaking it up, his heart rate slowing, his breaths becoming deep and more regular, even as he ran. It was the sort of running that you did toward something, not away. Although he felt a sense of escape. Escape from the confines of humanity.

At first there were tidy fields either side of the track, some green with young grain, some rough and grassy laid heavy with the thick scent of cattle. But it was only a few miles until he reached the little scrubby cluster of trees that seemed to reach out their branches and welcome him into their embrace.

He turned and looked back, the feeling of being observed finally fading now that he was hidden amongst the trees. It was most likely nothing. He knew his mother often watched his walks from the kitchen window, wondering over what drove her strange child to run away and hide himself from other humans so frequently. He knew she wished he was more typical, spending his aloneness locked in his room, rather than so visibly needing to escape. He wished that too. He cannot explain how he feels like he’s being smothered and caged by walls, how the only time he feels safe is when he can see the stretch of the horizon.

That would only lead to more questions, more scrutiny. He can’t have that.

He remembers the events of the school day, and smiles. He should have thought of this before, but it seems like an obvious cover now. He can’t wait to tell his mother that he’s joined the school track team.

[thewritershelpers]

Prompt Challenge: Day 68

Create Blackout Poetry. No word count.

View the competition FAQ, here! Submit to the March submission page, here! For competition rules and information, visit the original post here. You can also submit your own prompt ideas, here!

A Moonless Sky by Kevin Harrell

One of the biggest names in this poetry style is Austin Kleon. Many say he actually developed it. I want you to try making blackout poetry for today’s prompt. For your submission you’ll be entering the words of your poem. Unfortunately there’s no set up for accepting pictures but please post them under the tag #TWH365PromptChallenge so we can see your awesome stuff!

Here’s a great link if you need instructions and here is a link to blackout poetry images to give you some inspiration. The way that you find your poem and the way you get rid of the other words can be as simple or as complex as you like. For materials you can use an old book that’s falling apart, a newspaper, a magazine, or even a paper from the recycle bin by the school printer. For the black out part you can use pen, marker, crayon, other paper, or whatever inspires you. 

The point is to find the hidden poem in the page. This is a way to have fun with poetry as well as shake up your routine and keep that writer’s block away. I can’t wait to see what you guys come up with!

-A-