Write Anything Wednesday #30

It’s been three weeks since I posted Wednesday prompts. I hope all the writers out there wrote at least once a week though. You know the drill, write something. Why? It’s a great day to write and I say why not?

Write absolutely anything. Try your hand at flash fiction or write a poem. Make an outline or character sketch. Write a chapter, or as many chapters as you can. Nothing to write about? Try making a list of ideas or free-write. Make Wednesday your weekly no-matter-what writing day. If this isn’t a good day then pick another. The important thing is to simply write.

If you feel stumped grab a timer and do ten minute sprints. The first time you do this might not garner great results but the more you do the more you get used to it and your muse will start to shine.

If you would like a prompt:

  • If you could build a time machine that is not a Delorean or a police phone box, what would it look like? How would it work?
  • Imagine yourself in a brightly lit room with a dark circle on the floor in the middle. What happens when you step inside the circle?
  • Write a scene where your character tells a really bad joke.

Happy writing!


  1. I will do my best to keep regularly posting on Wednesday but at the beginning of August I’ll be out of town for two weeks and might miss one.
  2. Minor medical update: I’m going to get an injection in my back on Friday. Hopefully it will help for a while. Wish me luck!


  1. Kristi, I am always writing poems, most of my own blogs ( not reblogs) contain one or two NEW poems, plus I wtite quite long email replies, which must count for sonething as well? Ha!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Forgot the poem, ha!

    By A Stream, Brightly.

    The frog on the lily pad
    Cares not about me,
    His world has a simplicity.
    He leaps in joy, in fright, maybe,
    Catching insects for his high tea.
    The fish in the river,
    Cares not that I see
    His tail flicking so lazily.
    In current, his way, he wends easily,
    But he is not the fish for me.
    The vole on the bank, drops in gently,
    Hardly a splash, he is silent, you see.
    The weasel up in the grassy Lea,
    Might catch and eat him, ending he.
    Waterboatmen, skim steadfastly
    Over the water, right past the pad,
    On where sits the frog, oh, he will be mad
    When the frog catches him, then he’ll be dead.

    Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. July, 2015.

    Liked by 1 person

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