But I wanted my words to come out of hiding, and a blog seemed like an ideal instrument. Yet it became so much more than that.
Blogging has saved me from personal and creative stagnation, and I heartily recommend it to everyone.This blog has served its purpose multiple times: I made friends, joined profound conversations, turned my life around. Miracles happened. Yes, miracles.
|Autumn Tryst, or, The Architect's Daydream|
by John Magnet Bell
So why am I winding it up after hundreds of thousands of views, appreciative emails and people coming to me over and over again to show me how my story prompts had inspired them?
Let me offer you a simple reason.
As my life entered a new chapter, I found myself wanting to move a lot of things forward. It’s time I began developing some of my ideas for fiction instead of giving them all away as story premises. And after a long dry spell my interest in photography, drawing and painting reemerged with far greater strength and vigor than ever before. Art calls. I must answer.
|That's me like 50 years from now, having answered the call.|
Also, I am not leaving social media; no final curtain here. I will be
- Tweeting story prompts on Twitter every week
- Posting artwork on society6
- Posting yet more artwork on Tumblr
- Generally romping on Google+
- Active on Ello.co
- Posting flash fiction on Medium pretty soon
This blog is not going away, but will remain as an archive. (The hundreds of writing prompts on offer are copyright-free forever.) Note that after January 7, 2015, the site URL will revert to startyournovel.blogspot.com.
When I look back and consider what I’ve done with this blog I feel proud. I have created a good thing that has brought joy, laughter, wonder and inspiration to a great many people.
|Sunset at the Lighthouse|
by Ian Mitchell
Now, I will not sign off without a final story prompt:
The Plaid Vampire Brotherhood of Vampires
It was lunchtime for the normals on the Pacific Northwest. The Pacific churned under a leaden cloud that was mostly water, dirt and airborne bacteria. Somewhere between two ghost towns built for incurable sleepers, Jack and Jane sat up in their respective coffins playing checkers in the dark. Jack and Jane were former human beings who had at one point become vampires through no fault of their own.
|Carlyle the Christmas Vampire|
by Hector Mansilla
“I’m tired of this cabin,” said Jane.
Jack didn’t say anything.
“I want to move to a mausoleum,” said Jane.
Jack remained silent.
“Raccoon blood just doesn’t cut it anymore,” said Jane. “I need variety. I’m bored,” she said.
“I have a possum,” said Jack, fishing a young possum from a hole in his chest.
See you around. Rock on.
by John Magnet Bell