creative writing description of a road

Road Adjectives – Describing Words With Examples

When it comes to describing roads, there is a wide range of adjectives that can paint a vivid picture in our minds. From smooth and winding to bumpy and narrow, these adjectives add depth and detail to our descriptions. In this article, I’ll be exploring some of the most common adjectives used to describe roads, along with examples to help you understand their usage.

In the following sections, I’ll delve into different categories of adjectives for roads, including those that describe the condition, size, shape, and surroundings. So, buckle up and join me on this linguistic journey as we explore the wonderful world of adjectives for roads.

Table of Contents

How to Describe road? – Different Scenarios

How to Describe Roads? – Different Scenarios

When it comes to describing roads, there are several scenarios that we can explore. Each scenario presents a unique set of features and characteristics that can be used to paint a vivid picture. Let’s delve into different scenarios and the corresponding adjectives that can be used to describe roads.

1. Urban Roads:

4. Coastal Roads:

6. Ancient Roads:

Describing Words for road in English

When it comes to describing roads, there are a wide variety of adjectives that can bring them to life. These descriptive words not only paint a vivid picture in the reader’s mind, but they also capture the unique characteristics and qualities of different types of roads. Let’s explore some of the most common adjectives used to describe roads in English.

Adjectives for road

When it comes to describing roads, a wide range of adjectives can be used to paint vivid pictures in our minds. Whether we envision a bustling city street or a scenic country road, the right adjectives bring these places to life. In this section, I’ll explore both positive and negative adjectives that can be used to describe roads, providing you with examples to better understand each word’s usage.

Positive Adjectives for Road

Negative Adjectives for Road

By incorporating these adjectives into your descriptions, you can paint a vivid picture of roads and enhance the reading experience for both children and adults alike. Discover the beauty and challenges of roads through the power of words.

Synonyms and Antonyms with Example Sentences

Synonyms for road.

Antonyms for road

While synonyms help us find alternative words to describe roads, antonyms give us the opportunity to explore the opposite meanings. Here are some antonyms for the word “road”:

By using antonyms, we can create a more well-rounded description of roads, including their limitations and challenges. Here’s an example sentence:

As we incorporate these synonyms and antonyms into our descriptions, we can create a more engaging reading experience that captures the diverse nature of roads and their surroundings.

In this article, we have delved into the world of adjectives that can be used to describe roads. By exploring synonyms and antonyms, we have expanded our vocabulary and gained a deeper understanding of the diverse nature of roads.

Through the examples provided, we have discovered various synonyms for the word “road,” such as path, highway, boulevard, lane, and avenue. Each of these words brings its own unique nuance and imagery, allowing us to paint a vivid picture when describing roads.

Additionally, we have explored antonyms for the word “road,” including dead-end, cul-de-sac, detour, wilderness, and impasse. These antonyms provide a contrasting perspective, enabling us to capture the different aspects and surroundings of roads.

By incorporating these adjectives into our descriptions, we can create more engaging and captivating narratives. Whether we are writing a travel blog, a novel, or simply trying to convey our experiences, these adjectives will help us paint a more vivid and accurate picture of the roads we encounter.

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COUNTRY ROAD

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A to Z Collection of Describing Words

Top 30 Adjectives for Road (Negative & Positive Words)

Roads, whether winding or straight, connect destinations and lead to adventures. They shape experiences and tell stories. Dive into this post to discover the best adjectives to describe these pathways.

Table of Contents

Description of Road

A road is a defined path or route, usually surfaced, allowing travel by foot or vehicle.

Words to Describe Road

Here are the 30 most common words to describe Road:

• Cobblestone

Positive Words to Describe Road

Negative words to describe road, adjectives for road (meanings and example sentences).

• Having a hard surface.
• We walked on the paved path comfortably.
• Uneven or full of obstacles.
• Our car jolted on the bumpy road.
• Covered with fine particles.
• The dusty road left our shoes dirty.
• Cars barely fit on the narrow street.
• Filled with many things.
• Traffic slowed on the crowded highway.
• Free from lumps or projections.
• We cruised on the smooth highway.
• Rising or falling sharply.
• The steep road was challenging to climb.
• Covered by water.
• The flooded road was impassable.
• Providing picturesque views.
• The scenic route offered stunning landscapes.
• Mixed with wet dirt.
• Vehicles got stuck in the muddy path.

Other Related Words to Describe Road

Words to describe road conditions.

• Snow-covered
• Freshly-paved

Words to Describe the Silk Road

• Trade-focused
• Long-distance
• Caravan-laden
• Intercontinental

Words to Describe a Dirt Road

Words to describe a bumpy road.

• Challenging

Words to Describe Road Trip

• Adventurous
• Spontaneous
• Memory-filled

How to Describe Road in Writing?

Describing a road in writing is about capturing its essence. Consider its physical attributes, the feeling it evokes, and its importance in the story or context.

Whether it’s the rush of a highway or the tranquility of a countryside lane, the description should transport the reader to that place. Use varied adjectives and be specific to paint a vivid picture.

Consider the road’s surroundings, the sounds, the weather, and the emotions it brings out. By focusing on these details, you’ll craft a rich, immersive description that resonates with readers.

Adjectives for City

Adjectives for Travel

Adjectives for Trip

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Novel writing ,

How to write descriptions and create a sense of place.

By Harry Bingham

Your first job as a storyteller is a simple one, and a crucial one. You have to get your passengers into your train – your readers into your story. Only then can you hope to transport them.

And that crucial first step doesn’t have much to do with characters or story or anything else.

What matters first is this: your fictional world has to seem real. It has to grip the reader as intensely as real life – more intensely, even.

Writing descriptions that  seem  vivid, with the use of evocative language, is therefore essential. The buildings, cities, places, rooms, trees, weather of your fictional world have to be convincing  there . They have to have an emphatic, solid, believable presence.

A big ask, right? But it gets harder than that.

Because at the same time, people don’t want huge wodges of descriptive writing. They want to engage with characters and story, because that’s the reason they picked up your book in the first place.

So your challenge becomes convincing readers that your world is real . . . but using only the lightest of touches to achieve that goal.

Not so easy, huh?

Start Early

Set the scene early on – then nudge.

It may sound obvious but plenty of writers launch out into a scene without giving us any descriptive material to place and anchor the action. Sure, a page or so into the scene, they may start to add details to it – but by that point it’s too late. They’ve already lost the reader. If the scene feels placeless at the start – like actors speaking in some blank, white room – you won’t be able to wrestle that sense of place back later.

So  start early .

That means telling the reader where they are in a paragraph (or so), close to the start of any new scene. That early paragraph needs to have enough detail that if you are creating a coffee shop, for example, it doesn’t just feel like A Generic Coffee Shop. It should feel like its own thing. One you could actually walk into. Something with its own mood and colour. One vivid descriptive detail will do more work for you than three worthy but colourless sentences.

And once, early in your scene, you’ve created your location, don’t forget about it. Just nudge a little as you proceed. So you could have your characters talking – then they’re interrupted by a waitress. Then they talk (or argue, or fight, or kiss) some more, and then you drop in some other detail which reminds the reader, “Yep, here we still are, in this coffee shop.”

That’s a simple technique, bit it works every time.

One paragraph early on, then nudge, nudge, nudge.

As the roughest of rough guides, those nudges need to happen at least once a page – so about every 300 words. If it’s natural to do so more often, that’s totally fine.

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Be Specific

Details matter! They build a sense of place like nothing else.

Gabriel García Márquez, opening  One Hundred Years of Solitude , introduces his village like this:

Macondo was a village of twenty adobe houses, built on the bank of a river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, which were white and enormous, like prehistoric eggs.

Boom! We’re there.

In his world. In his village. Already excited to see what lies ahead.

And yes, he’s started early (Chapter 1, Page 1, Line 1). But it’s more than that, isn’t it? He could have written something like this:

Macondo was a village of about twenty houses, built on a riverbank.

I hope it’s obvious that that sentence hardly transports us anywhere. It’s too bland. Too unfocused. Too generic. There are literally thousands of villages in the world which would fit that description.

In short, what makes Marquez’s description so vivid is its use of telling detail. They’re not just houses, they’re  adobe  houses. The river doesn’t just flow over stones, its flows over  polished stones  that are  white and enormous, like  (wow!)  prehistoric eggs .

The sentence works so well because Marquez has:

• Created something totally non-generic
• Via the use of highly specific detail, and
• Uses surprising / exotic language to make those details blaze in our imagination.

That basic template is one you can use again and again. It never stales. It lies at the heart of all good descriptive writing.

So here, for example, is a more ‘boring’ space . . . but still one redolent with vividness and atmosphere thanks to the powerful use of atmospheric specificity. In Margaret Atwood’s  The Handmaid’s Tale , Offred introduces her room with details that not only grab us but hint at something dark:

A chair, a table, a lamp. Above, on the white ceiling, a relief ornament in the shape of a wreath and in the centre of it a blank space, plastered over, like the place in a face where the eye has been taken out. There must have been a chandelier once. They’ve removed anything you could tie a rope to.

Those clipped words transport us straight to Offred’s enclosed, and terrifying, space. We’re also told just enough to give us an image of that place, enough to heighten tension, enough to tease curiosity. This is just a description of a room – but we already feel powerfully impelled to read on.

Be Selective With Your Descriptive Details

Be selective – don’t overwhelm.

It might be tempting to share every detail with us on surroundings.

Even with a setting like Hogwarts – a place readers really do want to know all the hidden details of – J.K. Rowling doesn’t share how many revolving staircases it has, how many treasures in the Room of Requirement, how many trees in the Forbidden Forest. That’s not the point. (And it would write off a little of Hogwarts’ magic and mystery.)

If you’re describing a bar, don’t write:

The bar was approximately twenty-eight feet long, by perhaps half of that wide. A long mahogany bar took up about one quarter of the floor space, while eight tables each with 4 wooden chairs occupied the remaining area. There were a number of tall bar stools arranged to accommodate any drinker who didn’t want to be seated at one of the tables. The ceiling height was pleasantly commodious.

That’s accurate, yes. It’s informative, yes. But it’s bland as heck.

The reader doesn’t want information. They want atmosphere. They want vivid language. They want mood.

Here’s an alternative way to describe a bar – the Korova Milk Bar in  A Clockwork Orange.  This description delivers a sense of intimacy and darkness in a few words:

The mesto [place] was near empty … it looked strange, too, having been painted with all red mooing cows … I took the large moloko plus to one of the little cubies that were all round … there being like curtains to shut them off from the main mesto, and there I sat down in the plushy chair and sipped and sipped

We’re told what we need to know, thrown into that murky Korova atmosphere and Burgess moves the action on. All we really have in terms of detail are those mooing red cows, some cubies (curtain booths?), and a plushy chair. There’s lots more author Anthony Burgess could tell us about that place. But he doesn’t. He gives us the  right  details, not all the details.

And if that’s not enough for you, then try reading  this .

Write For  All  The Senses

You have a nose? So use it.

Visuals are important, but don’t neglect the other senses. Offering a full range of sensory information will enhance your descriptive writing.

Herman Melville, say, describes to us the chowder for the ship’s crew in  Moby Dick : ‘small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuits and salted pork cut up into little flakes.’ Such descriptions are deft, specific, and brilliantly atmospheric. Where else but on board a nineteenth century American whaler would you get such a meal? By picking out those details, Melville makes his setting feel vibrantly alive.

Here’s another example.

Joanne Harris’ opening of  Chocolat  plays to readers’ senses, as we’re immersed straightaway in the world of her book through scent, sound and sight:

We came on the wind of the carnival. A warm wind for February, laden with the hot greasy scents of frying pancakes and sausage and powdery-sweet waffles cooked on the hotplate right there by the roadside, with the confetti sleeting down collars and cuffs and rolling in the gutters .

These non-visual references matter so much because sight alone can feel a little distant, a little empty.

By forcing the reader’s taste buds to image Melville’s clams or Harris’s pancakes – or making the reader feel that warm February wind, the confetti ‘sleeting’ down collars – it’s almost as though the writers are hauling the readers’ entire body into their scenes.

That’s good stuff: do likewise.

(And one easy test: take one of your scenes and highlight anything that references a non-visual sense. If you find some good references, then great: you’re doing fine. If not, your highlighter pen remains unused, you probably want to edit that scene!)

Get Place And Action Working Together

That’s where the magic happens!

Use the atmospheric properties of a place to add to other properties of the scene. That doesn’t mean you should always play things the obvious way: no need for cliché;.

You can have declarations of love happen in idyllic meadows, as in  Twilight  by Stephenie Meyer, but why not at a bus stop in the rain? Shouted over the barriers at a train station?

Your character also brings one kind of mood to the scene, and the action that unfolds will bring other sensations.

Lynda La Plante’s crime novel  Above Suspicion  makes a home setting frightening after it becomes obvious a stranger has been in protagonist DS Anna Travis’ flat, and she’s just been assigned to help solve her first murder case.

So the place is influenced by action, once Anna notices:

Reaching for the bedside lamp, she stopped and withdrew her hand. The photograph of her father had been turned out to face the room. She touched it every night before she went to sleep. It was always facing towards her, towards the bed, not away from it. … In the darkness, what had felt safe before now felt frightening: the way the dressing-table mirror reflected the street-light through the curtains and the sight of the wardrobe door left slightly ajar.

Here a comfy, nondescript flat becomes a frightening place, just because of what else is going on. Go for unfamiliar angles that add drama and excitement to your work.

Descriptions As Active Characters

You know the way that a place can turn on you? So (for example) a place that seems safe can suddenly reveal some other side, seem menacing, then almost try to harm the character.

That’s an incredibly powerful way to build descriptive writing into your text – because it feels mobile, alive and with a flicker of risk. You can use  plotting techniques  to help structure the way a reader interacts with a place: starting with a sense of the status quo, then some inciting incident that shifts that early stability, and so on. The inciting incident can be tiny – discovering that a photo frame has been moved, for example.

Having your characters voice their perceptions of a place in  dialogue  also adds to its dramatic impact, because now the reader sees place both through the eyes of a narrator and through the eyes of the characters themselves. Good, huh?

Do you need more help? Did you know we have an entire video course on How To Write? That course has had awesome client reviews, but it’s kinda expensive to buy . . . so don’t buy it!

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This free worksheet will help you write multi-dimensional, believable characters that leap off the page.

Use Unfamiliar Locations

And smart research ALWAYS helps.

Using unfamiliar settings adds real mood and atmosphere.

Stephenie Meyer, when writing  Twilight , decided she needed a rainy place near a forest to fit key plot elements.

Like protagonist Bella, she was raised in Arizona, but explained the process of setting  Twilight  in an unfamiliar setting on her  blog :

For my setting, I knew I needed someplace ridiculously rainy. I turned to Google, as I do for all my research needs, and looked for the place with the most rainfall in the U.S. This turned out to be the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. I pulled up maps of the area and studied them, looking for something small, out of the way, surrounded by forest. … In researching Forks, I discovered the La Push Reservation, home to the Quileute Tribe. The Quileute story is fascinating, and a few fictional members of the tribe quickly became intrinsic to my story.

As her success has shown, it’s possible to write successfully about a place you don’t know, but you must make it your business to know as much as you can about it. (Or if you’re writing a fantasy or sci-fi novel, plan your world down to its most intricate details.)

And to be clear: you’re doing the research, not because you want that research to  limit  you. (Oh, I can’t write that, because Wikipedia tells me that the river isn’t as long / the forest isn’t as thick / or whatever else.)

On the contrary:

You are doing the research, because that research may inspire and stimulate a set of ideas you might not have ecountered otherwise .

The key thing is to do your research to nail specifics, especially if they are unfamiliar, foreign, exotic.

Just read how Tokyo is described in Ryu Murakami’s thriller  In the Miso Soup :

It was still early in the evening when we emerged onto a street in Tsukiji, near the fish market. … Wooden bait-and-tackle shops with disintegrating roofs and broken signs stood next to shiny new convenience stores, and futuristic highrise apartment complexes rose skyward on either side of narrow, retro streets lined with wholesalers of dried fish.

There’s authenticity, grit to this description of Tokyo, as opposed to using ‘stock’ descriptions that could apply to many modern cities.

Note this same thing with foods: in Japan, your protagonist could well be eating miso soup, as per Ryu Murakami.

Or say if your story was set in Hong Kong, you might write in a dai pai dong (a sort of Chinese street kitchen), something very specific to that city if you’re describing a street there.

Alternatively, if you are setting something in the past, get your sense of place right by doing your research right, too.

In historical novel  Girl with a Pearl Earring  by Tracy Chevalier, set in Holland in 1664, maid Griet narrates how artist Johannes Vermeer prepares her for her secret portrait, musing, to her horror, that ‘virtuous women did not open their mouths in paintings’.

That last is just a tiny detail, but Griet’s tears show us how mortified she is. Modern readers won’t (necessarily) think about seventeenth-century connotations like this, so if you’re writing a scene set in a very different era or culture to what you know, research so you’re creating a true sense of place.

Use Place To Create Foreshadowing

A brilliant technique – we love it!

Descriptions of place are never neutral.

Good writers will, in overt or gently subtle ways, introduce a place-as-character. If that character is dangerous, for example, then simply describing a place adds a layer of foreboding, foreshadowing, to the entire book.

Just read how J.R.R. Tolkien describes the Morannon in  The Two Towers : ‘high mounds of crushed and powdered rock, great cones of earth fire-blasted and poison-stained … like an obscene graveyard.’ It’s obvious from this description trouble lies ahead for Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee.

But even if you’re not writing this sort of fantasy, character psychology and plot (as we saw above) can also render seemingly harmless places suspect, too. A boring apartment in  Above Suspicion  becomes scary when it seems someone’s been inside.

In the same sense, we thrill to the sense of a place with excitement and promise, too, like when Harry makes his first trip to Diagon Alley (in  Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone ) to shop for Hogwarts equipment with Hagrid.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon. … They bought Harry’s school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk.

Just weave place and action together like this to create atmosphere, excitement, tension, foreboding.

Think About Your Words – Nouns And Adjectives

Specific is good. Unexpected is great!

One final thought. When you’ve written a piece, go back and check nouns.

A bad description will typically use boring nouns (or things) in settings, i.e. a table, chair, window, floor, bar, stool, etc.

If you try to fluff up that by throwing in adjectives (i.e. a grimy table, gleaming window, wooden floor), the chances are you’ll either have (i) made the description even more boring, or (ii) made it odd.

Of course, this works for that first passage we looked over from Margaret Atwood.

We sense Offred counting the few things she has in the little room she calls hers, the window and chair, etc., in terse phrasing. We sense her tension, her dissociation, and we feel trapped with her.

All the same, play with nouns, with taking your readers to new surroundings. Give them a Moloko. Play with surroundings, how you can make them different, how you can render the ordinary extraordinary. With the right nouns in place, you’ll need fewer adjectives to jazz things up – and when you do use them, they’ll feel right, not over the top.

Happy writing!

About the author

Harry has written a variety of books over the years, notching up multiple six-figure deals and relationships with each of the world’s three largest trade publishers. His work has been critically acclaimed across the globe, has been adapted for TV, and is currently the subject of a major new screen deal. He’s also written non-fiction, short stories, and has worked as ghost/editor on a number of exciting projects. Harry also self-publishes some of his work, and loves doing so. His Fiona Griffiths series in particular has done really well in the US, where it’s been self-published since 2015. View his website , his Amazon profile , his Twitter . He's been reviewed in Kirkus, the Boston Globe , USA Today , The Seattle Times , The Washington Post , Library Journal , Publishers Weekly , CulturMag (Germany), Frankfurter Allgemeine , The Daily Mail , The Sunday Times , The Daily Telegraph , The Guardian , and many other places besides. His work has appeared on TV, via Bonafide . And go take a look at what he thinks about Blick Rothenberg . You might also want to watch our " Blick Rothenberg - The Truth " video, if you want to know how badly an accountancy firm can behave.

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A Guide to Descriptive Writing

by Melissa Donovan | Jan 7, 2021 | Creative Writing | 9 comments

What is descriptive writing?

Writing description is a necessary skill for most writers. Whether we’re writing an essay, a story, or a poem, we usually reach a point where we need to describe something. In fiction, we describe settings and characters. In poetry, we describe scenes, experiences, and emotions. In creative nonfiction, we describe reality. Descriptive writing is especially important for speculative fiction writers and poets. If you’ve created a fantasy world, then you’ll need to deftly describe it to readers; Lewis Carroll not only described Wonderland  (aff link); he also described the fantastical creatures that inhabited it.

But many writers are challenged by description writing, and many readers find it boring to read — when it’s not crafted skillfully.

However, I think it’s safe to say that technology has spoiled us. Thanks to photos and videos, we’ve become increasingly visual, which means it’s getting harder to use words to describe something, especially if it only exists in our imaginations.

What is Descriptive Writing?

One might say that descriptive writing is the art of painting a picture with words. But descriptive writing goes beyond visuals. Descriptive writing hits all the senses; we describe how things look, sound, smell, taste, and feel (their tactile quality).

The term descriptive writing can mean a few different things:

• The act of writing description ( I’m doing some descriptive writing ).
• A descriptive essay is short-form prose that is meant to describe something in detail; it can describe a person, place, event, object, or anything else.
• Description as part of a larger work: This is the most common kind of descriptive writing. It is usually a sentence or paragraph (sometimes multiple paragraphs) that provide description, usually to help the reader visualize what’s happening, where it’s happening, or how it’s happening. It’s most commonly used to describe a setting or a character. An example would be a section of text within a novel that establishes the setting by describing a room or a passage that introduces a character with a physical description.
• Writing that is descriptive (or vivid) — an author’s style: Some authors weave description throughout their prose and verse, interspersing it through the dialogue and action. It’s a style of writing that imparts description without using large blocks of text that are explicitly focused on description.
• Description is integral in poetry writing. Poetry emphasizes imagery, and imagery is rendered in writing via description, so descriptive writing is a crucial skill for most poets.

Depending on what you write, you’ve probably experimented with one of more of these types of descriptive writing, maybe all of them.

Can you think of any other types of descriptive writing that aren’t listed here?

How Much Description is Too Much?

Classic literature was dense with description whereas modern literature usually keeps description to a minimum.

Compare the elaborate descriptions in J.R.R. Tolkien’s  Lord of the Rings  trilogy  with the descriptions in J.K. Rowling’s  Harry Potter series  (aff links). Both series relied on description to help readers visualize an imagined, fantastical world, but Rowling did not use her precious writing space to describe standard settings whereas Tolkien frequently paused all action and spent pages describing a single landscape.

This isn’t unique to Tolkien and Rowling; if you compare most literature from the beginning of of the 20th century and earlier to today’s written works, you’ll see that we just don’t dedicate much time and space to description anymore.

I think this radical change in how we approach description is directly tied to the wide availability of film, television, and photography. Let’s say you were living in the 19th century, writing a story about a tropical island for an audience of northern, urban readers. You would be fairly certain that most of your readers had never seen such an island and had no idea what it looked like. To give your audience a full sense of your story’s setting, you’d need pages of detail describing the lush jungle, sandy beaches, and warm waters.

Nowadays, we all know what a tropical island looks like, thanks to the wide availability of media. Even if you’ve never been to such an island, surely you’ve seen one on TV. This might explain why few books on the craft of writing address descriptive writing. The focus is usually on other elements, like language, character, plot, theme, and structure.

For contemporary writers, the trick is to make the description as precise and detailed as possible while keeping it to a minimum. Most readers want characters and action with just enough description so that they can imagine the story as it’s unfolding.

If you’ve ever encountered a story that paused to provide head-to-toe descriptions along with detailed backstories of every character upon their introduction into the narrative, you know just how grating description can be when executed poorly.

However, it’s worth noting that a skilled writer can roll out descriptions that are riveting to read. Sometimes they’re riveting because they’re integrated seamlessly with the action and dialogue; other times, the description is deftly crafted and engaging on its own. In fact, an expert descriptive writer can keep readers glued through multiple pages of description.

Descriptive Writing Tips

I’ve encountered descriptive writing so smooth and seamless that I easily visualized what was happening without even noticing that I was reading description. Some authors craft descriptions that are so lovely, I do notice — but in a good way. Some of them are so compelling that I pause to read them again.

On the other hand, poorly crafted descriptions can really impede a reader’s experience. Description doesn’t work if it’s unclear, verbose, or bland. Most readers prefer action and dialogue to lengthy descriptions, so while a paragraph here and there can certainly help readers better visualize what’s happening, pages and pages of description can increase the risk that they’ll set your work aside and never pick it up again. There are exceptions to every rule, so the real trick is to know when lengthy descriptions are warranted and when they’re just boring.

Here are some general tips for descriptive writing:

• Use distinct descriptions that stand out and are memorable. For example, don’t write that a character is five foot two with brown hair and blue eyes. Give the reader something to remember. Say the character is short with mousy hair and sky-blue eyes.
• Make description active: Consider the following description of a room: There was a bookshelf in the corner. A desk sat under the window. The walls were beige, and the floor was tiled. That’s boring. Try something like this: A massive oak desk sat below a large picture window and beside a shelf overflowing with books. Hardcovers, paperbacks, and binders were piled on the dingy tiled floor in messy stacks.  In the second example, words like  overflowing  and  piled are active.
• Weave description through the narrative: Sometimes a character enters a room and looks around, so the narrative needs to pause to describe what the character sees. Other times, description can be threaded through the narrative. For example, instead of pausing to describe a character, engage that character in dialogue with another character. Use the characters’ thoughts and the dialogue tags to reveal description: He stared at her flowing, auburn curls, which reminded him of his mother’s hair. “Where were you?” he asked, shifting his green eyes across the restaurant to where a customer was hassling one of the servers.

Simple descriptions are surprisingly easy to execute. All you have to do is look at something (or imagine it) and write what you see. But well-crafted descriptions require writers to pay diligence to word choice, to describe only those elements that are most important, and to use engaging language to paint a picture in the reader’s mind. Instead of spending several sentences describing a character’s height, weight, age, hair color, eye color, and clothing, a few, choice details will often render a more vivid image for the reader: Red hair framed her round, freckled face like a spray of flames. This only reveals three descriptive details: red hair, a round face, and freckles. Yet it paints more vivid picture than a statistical head-to-toe rundown:  She was five foot three and no more than a hundred and ten pounds with red hair, blue eyes, and a round, freckled face.

10 descriptive writing practices.

How to Practice Writing Description

Here are some descriptive writing activities that will inspire you while providing opportunities to practice writing description. If you don’t have much experience with descriptive writing, you may find that your first few attempts are flat and boring. If you can’t keep readers engaged, they’ll wander off. Work at crafting descriptions that are compelling and mesmerizing.

• Go to one of your favorite spots and write a description of the setting: it could be your bedroom, a favorite coffee shop, or a local park. Leave people, dialogue, and action out of it. Just focus on explaining what the space looks like.
• Who is your favorite character from the movies? Describe the character from head to toe. Show the reader not only what the character looks like, but also how the character acts. Do this without including action or dialogue. Remember: description only!
• Forty years ago we didn’t have cell phones or the internet. Now we have cell phones that can access the internet. Think of a device or gadget that we’ll have forty years from now and describe it.
• Since modern fiction is light on description, many young and new writers often fail to include details, even when the reader needs them. Go through one of your writing projects and make sure elements that readers may not be familiar with are adequately described.
• Sometimes in a narrative, a little description provides respite from all the action and dialogue. Make a list of things from a story you’re working on (gadgets, characters, settings, etc.), and for each one, write a short description of no more than a hundred words.
• As mentioned, Tolkien often spent pages describing a single landscape. Choose one of your favorite pieces of classic literature, find a long passage of description, and rewrite it. Try to cut the descriptive word count in half.
• When you read a book, use a highlighter to mark sentences and paragraphs that contain description. Don’t highlight every adjective and adverb. Look for longer passages that are dedicated to description.
• Write a description for a child. Choose something reasonably difficult, like the solar system. How do you describe it in such a way that a child understands how he or she fits into it?
• Most writers dream of someday writing a book. Describe your book cover.
• Write a one-page description of yourself.

If you have any descriptive writing practices to add to this list, feel free to share them in the comments.

Descriptive Writing

Does descriptive writing come easily to you, or do you struggle with it? Do you put much thought into how you write description? What types of descriptive writing have you tackled — descriptive essays, blocks of description within larger texts, or descriptions woven throughout a narrative? Share your tips for descriptive writing by leaving a comment, and keep writing!

Further Reading: Abolish the Adverbs , Making the Right Word Choices for Better Writing , and Writing Description in Fiction .

I find descriptions easier when first beginning a scene. Other ones I struggle with. Yes, intertwining them with dialogue does help a lot.

I have the opposite experience. I tend to dive right into action and dialogue when I first start a scene.

I came across this article at just the right time. I am just starting to write a short story. This will change the way I describe characters in my story.

Thank you for this. R.G. Ramsey

You’re welcome!

Great tips and how to practise and improve our descriptive writing skills. Thank you for sharing.

You’re welcome, Bella.

Hello Melissa

I have read many of your articles about different aspects of writing and have enjoyed all of them. What you said here, I agree with, with the exception of #7. That is one point that I dispute and don’t understand the reason why anyone would do this, though I’ve seen books that had things like that done to them.

To me, a book is something to be treasured, loved and taken care of. It deserves my respect because I’m sure the author poured their heart and soul into its creation. Marking it up that way is nothing short of defacing it. A book or story is a form of art, so should a person mark over a picture by Rembrandt or any other famous painter? You’re a very talented author, so why would you want someone to mark through the words you had spent considerable time and effort agonizing over, while searching for the best words to convey your thoughts?

If I want to remember some section or point the author is making, then I’ll take a pen and paper and record the page number and perhaps the first few words of that particular section. I’ve found that writing a note this way helps me remember it better. This is then placed inside the cover for future reference. If someone did what you’ve suggested to a book of mine, I’d be madder than a ‘wet hen’, and that person would certainly be told what I thought of them.

In any of the previous articles you’ve written, you’ve brought up some excellent points which I’ve tried to incorporate in my writing. Keep up the good work as I know your efforts have helped me, and I’m sure other authors as well.

Hi Stanley. Thanks so much for sharing your point of view. I appreciate and value it.

Marking up a book is a common practice, especially in academia. Putting notes in margins, underlining, highlighting, and tagging pages with bookmarks is standard. Personally, I mark up nonfiction paperbacks, but I never mark up fiction paperbacks or any hardcovers (not since college).

I completely respect your right to keep your books in pristine condition. And years ago, when I started college, I felt exactly the same way. I was horrified that people (instructors and professors!) would fill their books with ugly yellow highlighting and other markips. But I quickly realized that this was shortsighted.

Consider an old paperback that is worn and dog-eared. With one look, you know this book has been read many times and it’s probably loved. It’s like the Velveteen Rabbit of books. I see markups as the same — that someone was engaging with the book and trying to understand it on a deeper level, which is not disrespectful. It’s something to be celebrated.

Sometimes we place too much value on the book as a physical object rather than what’s inside. I appreciate a beautiful book as much as anyone but what really matters to me is the information or experience that it contains. I often read on a Kindle. Sometimes I listen to audio books. There is no physical book. The experience is not lessened.

I understand where you’re coming from. I used to feel the same way, but my mind was changed. I’m not trying to change yours, but I hope you’ll understand.

You’ve provided some great information and advice. One thing I might add–it is helpful to consider the POV character. For example, what will they notice in a restaurant? A police officer may notice the placement of the exits, the tattooed man carrying a side-arm, the security cameras on the ceiling, etc. The descriptive items he would notice would be very different from those of an elderly grandmother or a fifteen-year-old teenaged girl.

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Saturday 6 april 2013, descriptive writing: the street at night, 36 comments:.

Beautifully written Amazing description!!!!!!!!

Wow!! I love it so much! Great ideas I used it for my work!! BTW I a kid not doin GCSE!! Lol!! XD😜😜

good...but too short

it's beautiful and it takes time to write such things appreciate it don't point out flaws don't shave yourself up the author's ass

I would like to see you attempt

quality over quantity :)

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

Shut after your gap tooth created a black hole to another dimension

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Awe snap nice writing btw

This is so beautiful! Do you mind if I use it? I won't benefit commercially as I'm using it in anonymity.... please?

beautifully written

It's greatly inspiring and beautifully written.

Really helped me a ton with my essay. Thank you

simply spectacular!!!

I enjoyed reading it

As a teacher your setting descriptions are very useful for ideas. Please continue them.

wow! amazing descripton

continue with great work

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wow this was probably the best description I've ever read

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The Top 10 Descriptive Paragraphs About Mountains

Written by Dan

Last updated February 15, 2024

As a teacher, when you’re looking for examples of descriptive paragraphs for your class to study and explore, there’s no better subject than the majesty of mountains. Mountains offer a different type of beauty—one that can be both awe-inspiring and peaceful simultaneously.

To help give your students an idea of what mountain descriptions look like, we’ve created a list with some of the top 10 most evocative passages about mountains—all written by some beloved authors over the years!

In this post, we’ll examine each with insightful quotes from each passage so that teachers can use material in their classroom activity instructions to further illustrate how expansive and captivating a description about mountains can truly be.

Related : For more, check out our article on  Descriptive Paragraphs About King Charles  here.

Table of Contents

1. The Majestic Mountains

The mountains, like the ancient sentinels of a forgotten realm, stand tall and proud, their peaks scraping the soft belly of the cerulean sky. They rise like majestic titans, their silhouettes etched defiantly against the backdrop of the heavens.

These mountains are an epitome of grandeur and resilience, a living testament to the earth’s might and its relentless endurance. Their formidable stature is a constant reminder of the planet’s ageless strength and timeless persistence.

Their rugged surfaces, etched with the countless stories of time, are a complex tapestry of shadows and light. These surfaces, worn by the ceaseless march of seasons, bear the imprints of centuries, their crinkles and folds narrating tales of eras gone by.

This intricate mosaic of crevices and ridges, illuminated and concealed by the shifting sun, is a testament to the relentless passage of time and the enduring spirit of nature.

The sun, a celestial artist, paints the mountains with a precision that is nothing short of poetic. As it embarks on its daily journey across the expansive horizon, it bathes the mountains in a kaleidoscope of colors, from the soft pastels of dawn to the fiery hues of dusk.

The play of light and shadow over the mountains’ rugged terrain creates a dynamic landscape that changes with every passing hour, offering an ever-evolving spectacle of natural beauty.

The craggy faces of these mountainous giants, speckled with the vibrant greens of hardy vegetation and the pristine white of winter snow, hold a raw, natural beauty that is both awe-inspiring and humbling.

The contrast between the harsh, unyielding rock and the delicate, fleeting snowflakes or the resilient, tenacious greenery serves as a stark reminder of nature’s paradoxical character — its capacity for both ruthlessness and gentleness.

This juxtaposition, this symphony of extremes, contributes to the mountains’ mesmerizing allure, making them a sight that is as humbling as it is breathtaking.

Related : For more, check out our article on  Descriptive Paragraphs About The Queen  here.

2. A Symphony of Silence

Listen closely! The mountains speak in a symphony of silence, a language so profound that it transcends words. This silence is punctuated only by the crisp crunch of snow underfoot or the distant echo of a lone bird’s call.

It is a sound that reverberates deep within the soul, a profound hush that drowns out the clamor of the world below, offering a sanctuary where one can hear the whisper of their own thoughts. This silence is not empty but full of a stillness that sings a song of tranquility and peace.

The mountains, silent sentinels of a bygone era, are soothing balms for the soul. They offer refuge from the bustle and anxiety of daily life, allowing one to connect with a peacefulness that is eons old.

For those in need of solace, these quiet giants are beacons of hope, providing a place where one can rest and replenish their reserves of energy and strength.

The mountains beckon us to their untamed peak, inviting us to explore and discover the lessons that lay hidden within their depths. Beyond the chilly winds and steep slopes are secrets that remain untouched and unspoken, waiting for those who will brave its heights.

Those courageous enough to venture into the mountains will be rewarded with a serenity so profound it seems almost sacred, an experience they are unlikely to forget.

The mountains are powerful and mysterious, a place of awe and reverence. They are a reminder that in the vastness of our world lies something greater than ourselves, an ancient wisdom that can only be found in the silent depths of their peaks.

The majestic beauty of these silent giants stands as a testament to our fragile planet and its enduring spirit—a spirit that will continue to speak in its own language, a language of silence.

Related : For more, check out our article on  Descriptive Paragraphs About Macbeth  here.

3. The Beauty of Solitude

In the heart of the mountains, solitude is not a state of loneliness, but a tranquil companionship with nature. Here, one can commune with the wind that rustles through the pines, the snow that blankets the slopes, and the rocks that have stood the test of time.

Each element is a friend, offering comfort in its constant, unchanging presence. This solitude nurtures the spirit, providing a space for reflection and introspection, a chance to connect with oneself amidst the majesty of the natural world.

The mountains are a place of calm and repose, where one can be surrounded by beauty while still remaining in control. Here, the elements are at peace, and one is free to explore the depths of their own inner world.

The harshness of the terrain encourages self-reliance and teaches resilience, while its serenity facilitates contemplation and growth. The mountains offer a unique opportunity to experience the joy of being alone, far away from the clamor and chaos of everyday life.

The beauty of the mountains is that they offer something for everyone. For some, it’s an escape from the hustle and bustle; for others, an adventure in a wild and untamed world.

But no matter what the purpose, in the mountains one is never truly alone. The company of nature’s elements provides an unspoken companionship—a presence that remains steady and true no matter how far one ventures into the unknown.

The mountains are a place of solace, with their majestic beauty and ancient secrets luring us to explore its depths. Here, amidst the stillness and peace of its peaks, we can find refuge from the chaos of life. The mountains are a reminder that no matter how isolated we may feel, there is always something greater than ourselves that surrounds and sustains us.

They offer a glimpse into an ancient wisdom beyond our understanding, serving as both an inspiration and a protector. In these silent giants lies the promise of solace and serenity, a reminder that beauty and power are intertwined in the timeless embrace of nature.

Related : For more, check out our article on  Descriptive Paragraphs About The Wind  here.

4. The Dance of Light and Shadow

At dawn, the mountains are cloaked in ethereal hues of pink and gold, their jagged silhouettes sharp against the awakening sky. As the day progresses, they transform into an ever-changing tableau of light and shadow, each hour revealing a new facet of their beauty.

The sun, in its celestial dance, plays with the mountains, casting shadows that creep and retreat, highlighting ridges and illuminating valleys. At dusk, they are bathed in the fiery glow of the setting sun, their peaks aflame with a riot of colors, as if bidding a spectacular farewell to the day.

The mountains are a living, breathing canvas, their faces ever-changing. The subtle hues of morning mist, the play of light and shadow at noon and twilight’s golden curtain; each is a unique symphony that speaks to the soul.

They evoke emotions ranging from awe and wonder to reverence and serenity, inspiring feelings that can only be found in the embrace of nature.

The mountains are more than just a beautiful sight, they are portals to an alternate reality filled with possibility and potential. They remind us that there is beauty even in moments of darkness, if we take the time to look for it.

By exploring their depths, we can discover our own inner strength and courage—strengths that can be found only in the depths of their majestic passes.

The beauty of the mountains is timeless, and as the sun sets each day they remind us that the world is constantly changing, even if it appears otherwise. They invite us to step into a realm where dreams are made and infinite potential awaits.

No matter how daunting it may seem, these silent sentinels are a reminder that the journey is worth taking—for in the depths of their peaks lies an enchantment beyond our wildest imaginings.

5. The Mountains’ Might

The mountains, with their towering peaks and deep, mysterious valleys, are a testament to the earth’s raw power. They are sculpted by the relentless forces of wind and water, carved by the slow crawl of glaciers and the ceaseless march of time.

Their strength is palpable, radiating a quiet assurance that they will endure long after we have returned to the dust. Their might serves as a reminder of our own insignificance in the face of nature’s grandeur, a humbling experience that puts our fleeting existence into perspective.

The mountains are a source of strength and inspiration, pushing us to the limits of our physical and mental abilities. They challenge us in ways that other environments cannot, teaching resilience and perseverance in the face of hardship.

The sheer magnitude of their slopes teach us humility, while their rugged beauty elicits feelings of awe and wonderment. In the presence of these silent sentinels, we can’t help but feel small.

The mountains are a source of solace and strength—a reminder that beauty and power are intertwined in the timeless embrace of nature. Here, amidst the stillness and peace of its peaks, we can find refuge from the chaos of life. The mountains beckon us to explore beyond our comfort zone, reminding us that there is always something greater than ourselves that we can strive for.

They offer a glimpse into an ancient wisdom beyond our understanding, a reminder that the journey is worth taking—for in the depths of their peaks lies an enchantment beyond our wildest imaginings.

6. The Call of the Wild

In the heart of the mountains, the wild calls with a primal lure, awakening a deep-seated yearning for exploration and adventure. Here, amidst the rugged terrain, the untamed beauty, one can feel truly alive, their senses sharpened by the crisp mountain air and the stunning vistas that unfold at every turn.

The mountains call to the adventurer within us, beckoning us to lose ourselves in their wilderness, to breathe in their purity, to become one with their untamed spirit.

The mountains are a playground for the soul, an escape from the mundane and everyday. They invite us to explore their secrets, to discover forgotten trails hidden in their folds, to marvel at their natural wonders.

Here we can find true freedom, where danger is ever-present and adventure abounds. The wild beckons to us—to take risks, face our fears, and test the limits of ourselves.

The mountains are a reminder that life should be lived to its fullest. They invite us to break free from the chains of everyday life and take a leap into the unknown. Here we can find solace in nature’s embrace, discover hidden treasures, and embark on a journey of self-discovery and adventure.

The mountains are a call to the wild, an invitation to explore their depths and discover our true potential. They offer us a glimpse into an ancient wisdom beyond our understanding, reminding us that beauty and power are intertwined in the timeless embrace of nature. Adventure awaits—all we have to do is heed its call. Take the plunge, embrace the risk, and find strength in the wild.

7. A Sanctuary of Serenity

The mountains offer a sanctuary of serenity, a haven from the hustle and bustle of life. Their timeless beauty and tranquil silence provide a balm for the weary soul, healing the wounds inflicted by the frenetic pace of modern existence.

Here, one can find peace, solitude, and a profound connection with nature. The mountains teach us to slow down, to appreciate the simple beauty of a sunrise or the quiet majesty of a snow-capped peak, to find joy in the journey rather than the destination.

The mountains have a magnetic quality, an otherworldly aura that draws us in. They offer a respite from the noise and chaos of life—a place to reflect, rejuvenate, and find clarity. In their embrace we can reconnect with our true selves, discover our innermost passions and dreams, and begin anew.

The mountains are a reminder of the power of nature and its ability to heal. They are a source of strength, courage, and peace—a sanctuary for the weary traveler. Each peak is an invitation to explore, to climb higher than ever before and bask in the awe-inspiring beauty that lies beyond.

The mountains provide a refuge from our daily lives, offering us solace in their stillness and serenity. Let us take a deep breath and be filled with the peace that only nature can provide.

8. The Seasons’ Canvas

The mountains are the canvas upon which the seasons paint their masterpieces. Winter swathes them in a blanket of pristine snow, transforming their rough terrain into a shimmering wonderland of white.

Spring adorns them with a burst of color as flowers bloom and trees bud, breathing life into their slopes. Summer bathes them in warmth and light, revealing their full splendor in the long, golden days. Autumn, the grand artist, sets them ablaze with fiery hues of red and orange, making a spectacle of their descent into winter.

The canvas of the mountains is ever-changing, a stark reminder that nothing in life is constant. The rocky terrain is both relentless and resilient, weathering centuries of storms, floods, snowstorms, and droughts. It stands as a silent witness to the passing of time—to the ebbs and flows of nature’s cycle—reminding us of our own mortality.

The mountains are a reminder that life is fleeting, but also ever-renewing. They offer us a glimpse into the renewal of life through the changing seasons, reminding us to take pleasure in the little moments and savor each experience with all our senses. Let us be still and marvel at the beauty of nature’s canvas, for here lies a never-ending source of inspiration.

The mountains are more than just a backdrop to life’s ups and downs—they are our teachers, guides, and companions. In their embrace we can find strength and solace in times of struggle, and joy and peace in times of ease.

Let us take the time to listen to their silent voices, and find the courage to embrace their call. The mountains await—all we have to do is heed its call. Take the plunge, embrace the risk, and explore the wilds of life’s eternal canvas.

9. The Mountains’ Majesty

There is an undeniable majesty to the mountains. They rise from the earth like colossal sculptures, their contours shaped by the hand of nature. Their peaks, wreathed in clouds, seem to touch the heavens, reaching for the stars in their silent, stoic way.

Their valleys, cloaked in mist, hold a mystical allure, hiding secrets in their depths. In their towering grandeur, the mountains command respect and awe, inspiring poets and artists, dreamers and adventurers alike.

The mountains challenge us, calling us to re-examine our place in the natural world. They remind us of our insignificance and mortality, but also of the strength and resilience that lies within all of us.

Here we can find courage to take risks, explore new possibilities, and live life to its fullest. The mountains beckon—to stand in their glory, to marvel at their timeless beauty, and to be moved by the awesomeness of nature.

The mountains offer us a chance to reconnect with the wildness within ourselves—a part of our true selves that has been forgotten in today’s modern world. To climb a mountain is to break free from the mundane routine of life, to escape from the confines of comfort and be filled with a sense of freedom.

Let us take a moment to marvel at the majesty of the mountains, for here lies an inexhaustible source of inspiration and strength.

The mountains have been witnesses to our struggles and triumphs throughout history—they are part of our collective memory, a reminder that we can overcome any obstacle and find joy in the journey.

Let us embrace their call and take a plunge into the unknown, for here lies a chance to explore uncharted terrain and discover our true potential. The mountains await—all we have to do is heed its call. Take the plunge, embrace the risk, and find strength in the wilds of life’s ever-changing landscape.

10. The Mountains’ Song

The mountains sing a song as old as time itself. It is a melody woven from the rustle of leaves, the babble of brooks, the whistle of the wind, and the call of the wild. It is a symphony that resonates in the heart, a tune that speaks of peace, strength, beauty, and the eternal rhythm of nature.

This song, once heard, stays with you, a haunting melody that calls you back to the mountains, to their majesty, their solitude, and their wild, untamed beauty.

The mountains’ song is a reminder to take pleasure in the little moments and savor each experience with all our senses. Let us pause to listen and be filled with the serenity that only nature can provide.

The mountains may be silent, but their song speaks of life and its mysteries—of adventure, courage, hope, and renewal. In its embrace we can find the strength to take risks, explore new possibilities, and live life to its fullest.

The mountains are alive with their song—a never-ending source of inspiration and courage. Let us take a moment to listen, and find the resolve to heed their call.

Take the plunge, embrace the risk, and explore the wilds of life’s eternal song. The mountains await—all we have to do is listen. So take a deep breath and be filled with the peace that only nature can provide, for here lies an adventure unlike any other.

In conclusion, these top 10 descriptive paragraphs about mountains serve as perfect examples of the power of evocative language. Each passage offers a unique perspective on the majesty and beauty of mountains, highlighting their grandeur, tranquility, and the awe they inspire.

The various descriptions illustrate how the same subject can be depicted in numerous ways, depending on the author’s choice of words and imagery.

These passages serve not only as a tool for teaching descriptive writing but also as an invitation for students to explore their own experiences and emotions, encouraging them to convey their thoughts and feelings with similar depth and vividness. By studying these examples, students can learn to appreciate the richness of descriptive language and the endless possibilities it offers for expressing their perceptions and experiences.

Furthermore, these passages remind us that nature, particularly the magnificence of mountains, provides an abundant source of inspiration for writers. By learning to observe and describe the natural world around them, students can cultivate their observational skills, expand their vocabulary, and develop their ability to create compelling, immersive descriptions.

In essence, these masterfully crafted passages about mountains are more than just examples of descriptive writing; they are a testament to the beauty of language and its power to bring the world to life in the reader’s mind.

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About The Author

I'm Dan Higgins, one of the faces behind The Teaching Couple. With 15 years in the education sector and a decade as a teacher, I've witnessed the highs and lows of school life. Over the years, my passion for supporting fellow teachers and making school more bearable has grown. The Teaching Couple is my platform to share strategies, tips, and insights from my journey. Together, we can shape a better school experience for all.

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a car on a highway - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

• car accident
• Car Crusher
• how to write a story
• Streetlamps

Without awareness of the road or the rain, the car moved over the highway, lights on full beam. Aisha watched how the yellowed yet bright light played in the droplets, showing this deluge, this flood from the sky, in apparently solitary drops. Once upon a time she would have been driving the car, no longer, she let the quantum computer do that. This was her time to let her brain roam free and her heart explore new avenues, even as the city became ever closer.

The flag on the car flutters violently in the wind. It was cute on the city streets but here on the highway it moves so quickly and noisily that Vera wonders if it might break away from the pole. She watches the cheap plastic bending and the material beat as if it were trying to take flight. It stays that way, a battle between pole and flag until the car slows for the off ramp. Vera switches her attention to the changing scenery, so this will be her home for her university years. It feels so alien, yet no doubt when the time comes to go she'll feel a wrench to leave.

The wind pushes on the car to no avail. We are going forwards and nothing but a blessed tragedy can change that. The tires make their monotonous hiss over the rain-washed highway and the air that makes its way though the filters is meadow-sweet. All around, through these tinted windows are fields. Inside this tin box destined for the horizon the world outside continues like some choreographed dance but without the soul it should have. What reason under the sun is there that we can't stop and walk barefoot in the grass and feel the keen rays of the spring? Is there none that can hold up a brave hand and say stop? The driver fiddles with the radio to fill our ears with the latest popular tunes, starlets, the new pop "idols." The only part of me to escape the orange jumpsuit and boots, my hand, feels the plush fabric of the seat. No expense spared. I wonder who usually sits in this place. There is even a dispenser of single malt on the side, not that my hands will reach it in these shackles. If I close my eyes I can feel the gentle rise and fall of the road beneath us. I cannot imagine what is in store, but it isn't as bad as things could be. This ride, this car, this meeting - they have found a use for me and somewhere at the end of this road is the answer to what that could be.

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Shimario Member

Describing fast movement.

Discussion in ' Plot Development ' started by Shimario , Dec 13, 2016 .

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); So in my book, i have people that can move as fast as cars and trains on foot, thanks to their powers. And i was wondering if it was ok to use this as a form of travel instead of using like a horse or something. I can give an example of what i've written if need be.  

David Lee Member

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); So are you asking for an idea on what fast movement is like for the person moving, what it feels like or what the social effect is or what? It's an interesting thought on all levels. Since the people in your book already have this ability then it would be the norm for them. Is it a select group of people? I feel like the backstory on this would shed a little more light, can you explain more?  

Mikmaxs Senior Member

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); Shimario said: ↑ So in my book, i have people that can move as fast as cars and trains on foot, thanks to their powers. And i was wondering if it was ok to use this as a form of travel instead of using like a horse or something. I can give an example of what i've written if need be. Click to expand...

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); You also need to consider if they have super reflexes too. It's all well and good being able to run at super speeds, but human reflexes aren't designed for it, so people would end up running into walls or a car that pull out in front of them, and killing themselves. I always liked the idea of superheroes with these types of limitations, as it makes things more interesting  

tonguetied Contributor Contributor

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); I think David Lee's question is important to give you decent feedback. If humans can run at 80mph say, does that mean a Cheetah can run at over 200mph? Compared to a tortoise humans look like Flash Gordon. The ability to carry things while running this fast is also important, we use things like horses and donkeys to carry our burdens and of course have cars which I assume in your story are not existing. If you do have vehicles how fast do they go? The energy needed to move generally goes up exponentially, so double your speed you need about four times as much energy. Our circulatory system really doesn't supply enough oxygen enriched blood to support this so you would either end up with cramps after every burst or you need to change the overall physiology of their bodies or just simply hand wave it all and do as you please.  

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); Mikmaxs said: ↑ That depends. Does it tire them out? A normal human can run at 10-15mph in short bursts, but it's not something that's practical because it wears them out quickly and causes unpleasant side effects in the immediate short term. (Sweatiness, mussed hair, mussed clothes, etc.) Are they immune to weather and cold? Because if not, then running at 80mph during a chilly day is going to be absolutely miserable, and running at 80mph during a day with freezing rain and high windspeed is going to be hellish. Are they also indestructible, or at least hyper durable? Because if not, getting into a traffic collision is going to kill them. (Heck, running into someone or tripping on a loose stone by the road is pretty darn deadly.) Click to expand...

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); David Lee said: ↑ So are you asking for an idea on what fast movement is like for the person moving, what it feels like or what the social effect is or what? It's an interesting thought on all levels. Since the people in your book already have this ability then it would be the norm for them. Is it a select group of people? I feel like the backstory on this would shed a little more light, can you explain more? Click to expand...

newjerseyrunner Contributor Contributor Contest Winner 2022

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); Runners divide types of running into their strides: walking, jogging, striding, running, sprinting. I assume in order to move up again, our stride would change again and we'd just call it whatever we call that stride (personally I'd call it a gallop.) Have humans evolved differently in your world? There is no reason for humans to be fast, we're distance runners. We can't outrun an antelope, but we can jog behind it and not let it rest until it heat-strokes. We sweat, so we can cool ourselves and breathe at the same time. We are the most efficient runners that have ever existed in earth (by a very very wide margin.)  

ChickenFreak Contributor Contributor

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); Shimario said: ↑ Well basically in my book there are people called Psiphers (warriors who draw power from the void) that can basically do all kinds of things by using the void (almost anything). And they can use the void to move really fast, kind of like the Flash and i was just wondering if it was ok to use this as a form of travel for them and if i would need to describe their surroundings while they were moving. Click to expand...

antlad Banned

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); Shimario said: ↑ i was just wondering if it was ok to use this as a form of travel for them Click to expand...

NiallRoach Contributor Contributor

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); Shimario said: ↑ i was just wondering if it was ok to use this as a form of travel for them and if i would need to describe their surroundings while they were moving. Click to expand...

Shadowfax Contributor Contributor

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); newjerseyrunner said: ↑ We are the most efficient runners that have ever existed in earth (by a very very wide margin.) Click to expand...

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); Shadowfax said: ↑ More efficient than, say, African Hunting Dogs? Click to expand...

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); NiallRoach said: ↑ Try getting a dog to run a marathon at a constant jog. Canines are sprinters. Catch the prey in a couple of seconds and tear their hamstring out. The fact that endurance hunting exists, chasing an animal until it drops (almost) dead from exhaustion amongst some hunter gatherers says an awful lot about how we are built. Slow and steady wins the race. Unless you're racing a leopard, in which case slow and steady gets you gored. You win some, you lose some. Click to expand...

Simpson17866 Contributor Contributor

googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('funpub_0576d251350f7434fe028d0dae78ba96'); }); Shadowfax said: ↑ NO. Felines are sprinters, canines are distance runners. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/African_wild_dog The African wild dog...is a specialised diurnal hunter of antelopes , which it catches by chasing them to exhaustion. They are also, like humans, highly social animals, employing their social skills to combine for the hunt. (Something that lionesses also do.) Incidentally, a leopard won't gore you, it doesn't have the tusks for it. Click to expand...

Seren Writeaholic

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21 Road Trip Writing Prompts

by Joe Bunting | 133 comments

Start Your Story TODAY! We’re teaching a new LIVE workshop this week to help you start your next book. Learn more and sign up here.

Summer is the season for road trips. Whether you are on the road yourself or only dreaming of a vacation, today we have some road trip writing prompts to make the time fly. Try one out today!

This prompt was originally posted in June, 2012. Today, I'm traveling overseas and thought a few of you might also be on the road! We've added twenty prompts to the original one, but I kept my own practice from 2012 at the end. Enjoy!

Road trips yield great stories. Why? Because a road trip forces you, your family, your friends, or your characters into uncomfortable and new situations. Add to that the potential for various complications and conflict, and you have all the ingredients for a terrific story. 

Whether you want to write the story of a road trip you took, or one you're planning, or a scene from your work in progress that involves a road trip, you can use the elements of plot to help you. (See our full guide here.)

Start with a character who has a goal, and then let the complications and conflict ensue. Bring their actions to a crescendo of crisis (will they make the best bad choice to get what they want?) and deliver the climax and denouement .

A road trip has a built in external goal: you want to get to your destination, usually in a specific way for a specific purpose. But all those details can get hijacked by internal conflict, car trouble, wild roadside stops, and any other complication you can dream up. Give it a try!

Twenty-one Road Trip Writing Prompts 

• My original prompt was simple: Write about a road trip.

You can still do that one. But here are twenty more to take for a drive. (See what I did there?)

2. A parent and adult child have to take a road trip to sort out important family business. What happens?

3. Two co-workers have to drive to a work event one state away, but the trip goes terribly wrong.

4. A group of college seniors embark on a final road trip before graduation, but at the beginning of the second day, they pick up a hitchhiker who looks a lot like one of their professors who died the year before. 

5. A newlywed couple borrows a travel trailer and sets off on a cross-country roadtrip, when…

6. A young twenty-something trying to get home makes the mistake of stopping at…

7. An older couple has to move closer to family and takes a route that has some unusual memories.

8. A multi-family caravan road trip is derailed when a sink hole drops them into another dimension.

9. A motorcycle road trip through the Rocky Mountains turns deadly when…

10. A photographer sets out to capture pictures of the last five family-owned motels along a historic route when they discover…

11. A child convinces their grandparent to drive a thousand miles to return to a family home, but when they arrive, they are shocked to find…

Ten more road trip prompts for journaling

12. Tell about a time you took a wrong turn on a road trip.

13. Describe your dream road trip. Be sure to include details about the vehicle and riders along with the route and sights along the way. 

14. What was the best thing you ever ate on a road trip? The worst?

15. If you could only take a single route to a single destination for a road trip every summer for the rest of your life, which would it be and why?

16. Describe a time you learned something new on a road trip. 

17. Create your dream road trip playlist. Which artists and albums would you include and why?

18. Write about the characteristics that would describe your worst-case-scenario road trip buddy. (You can approach this either way: the person who would be best in a crisis OR the worst person to ride with.)

19. Find pictures of the open road in your favorite region and describe how it feels to be in that setting. 

20. What is your favorite book or film that includes a road trip and why?

21. Write about your favorite season or time of day to be on the road and describe it. 

For this writing practice, choose one of the prompts above. Set your timer for fifteen minutes . When you’re finished, share your work in the Pro Practice Workshop here (and if you’re not a member yet, you can join here ).

If  you post, please read and comment on a few posts by other writers. Share the love 🙂 

Here's my practice from 2012:

We're driving from California to Georgia this week, my dad and me. The first time since I was sixteen and only spoke six words to him the whole trip. We drove to Big Sur and then to Cambria where we stopped and listened to jazz in a little club along the road. It was the first time I had really listened to jazz. The piano player was blind. He could play well, the whole band could play well, but all I remember is feeling sad and alone and observant.

This time we're driving to Georgia through New Orleans where we'll sit in a smoky bar on Canal Street and listen to jazz. We drove through Texas today. Texas is normally a two day state, but for us it's a three day state. He wants to take it slow and relaxing so we'll stop in San Antonio and then Houston before making it the Mississippi Delta. I'm impatient to go faster and farther, a flaw of youth I suppose.

In El Paso we ate the worst Texas barbecued brisket either of us have ever had. Me, because it's the first Texas barbecued brisket I've ever had so it was both the best and worst. And he, because it was so dry and tasteless he had to chase it with shots of BBQ sauce just to get it down.

After El Paso we drove along Texas roads so long and flat you stop seeing road entirely and completely disappear into the black asphalt, the golden land, and the blue eternal sky that seems to dissolve the land itself.

Joe Bunting

Joe Bunting is an author and the leader of The Write Practice community. He is also the author of the new book Crowdsourcing Paris , a real life adventure story set in France. It was a #1 New Release on Amazon. Follow him on Instagram (@jhbunting).

Want best-seller coaching? Book Joe here.

133 Comments

“Come on, Nick, are you coming or what?”

“I’m coming, hang on.” Nicky rummaged through her shoulder bag again. “I just…hang on. Have you seen my Dramamine?”

“You already took it. The bottle is in your pocket.”

“Right. Okay.” She patted her pockets. You reminded your sister about the plants?”

“I did. Twice a week. She’s going to take the orchid home with her tonight.” Jack jingled the car keys and stared her down. She started down the front steps.

“Oh, I’m just going to check the coffee maker. I don’t remember if I turned it off.” She started back up.

“Nick! It’s on a timer. If you forgot to turn it off, which you didn’t, it’ll go off in an hour.” She hesitated at the top of the stairs. “We already got the garbage, the modem and tv are unplugged and the refrigerator is closed. We dumped the extra milk.”

“You’re sure?”

“Do you want to do this or not?”

“Of course I do! We’ve been planning it all month. You know how I am…” She smiled weakly. “ Just being thorough.” He didn’t respond, just spun the keys around his index finger before turning to climb into the driver’s seat of the rental car.

She took a deep breath and plunged down the steps and into the passenger seat. After arranging her bag on the floor she started to put on her seat belt, but stopped. Jack’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he stared ahead. Nicky picked her bag back up, took out her water bottle and put it in the cup holder. She exchanged her glasses for sunglasses. Hesitating, she put the box with the Sea Bands on her lap before buckling up. She anchored herself in the seat and reached for the bar on the roof.

“You know I’m a good driver, right?”

“Oh, I know. Its the rest of them I’m not sure about.”

I like the banter between your characters, Catherine. It’s great dialogue. It also made me laugh. I swear I have been Nick on a car trip or two.

I love the mystery in this. Are you going to keep writing this? I would.

I just might. I’ve been getting a sense of where these two might be going on their (ill-fated) trip. I’ve only been visiting Write Practice for about two weeks now, and the practice prompts are all so great I keep tucking all these little 300 word stories aside to work on later!

This is like a great study on the beginning of agoraphobia. What would happen is you followed them further. Would she want to go back. Would she worry about her home while she was gone? Very interesting theme.

Love it. Great dialogue. Getting ready to go on a trip is such chaos. Especially around worry warts (not sure if “worry warts” is a real thing or just a phrase we made up to describe my brother) I really felt that in your piece.

Really enjoyed this piece and would continue reading to find out more. I related to the woman’s OCD tendencies and her companions resultant frustration.

When I was a kid, road trips were awful. I remember the miles of boredom. Green mile marker after green mile marker ticking by like the second hand on a clock on Christmas Eve.

There was only so much we could do in the car. Read books. Play animal poker. Sing songs together.

Seat belts were usually neglected like the leftover tuna casserole in the back of the fridge. Some states protected us with laws back then, but nobody cared. We would often fall sleep while laying in the floorboard of the car.

My kids do not understand how good they have it. The minivan was built to keep them entertained for the 13 hour drive to Tampa. Instead of having to stare out the window for what seems forever, they can stare at the LCD screen conveniently hanging from the roof of the van.

Instead of swiping through the pages of a book and the story hidden within the collections of letters and words and punctuation marks, they can swipe through “Angry Birds” or “Cut the Rope.”

Instead of singing songs with each other, belting out the “I Wish They All Could be California Girls” with Brian Wilson and the beach boys, they can put on their headphones and sing along silently to Lady Gaga.

If only my kids understood how wonderful of a world they live in with all of the technology that helps the time pass by.

I guess someday they will say the same about their kids. In that great mystery of time and life, the present will become the past, and the past will become the present. The future will remain as it were, a better place that none of us find.

I love this Jeremy, especially the part about state laws. Great writing.

Jeremy, this is beautiful. The first three paragraphs are my favorite. Oh, and “California Girls” will be stuck in my head for the rest of the day.

Interesting idea in the last paragraph. I wonder what will happen to the human mind when it no longer has time to rest and wander (or be bored).

I really love that last line. Too often we are caught up with the Future, as if it were something we knew as well as the Past. I enjoyed the compare and contrast between then and now as a sort of reminder that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Keep up the good work.

The last line is GR-R-R-R-R-R-E-A-T!!!

Brings back so many memories of sleeping in the back of the station wagon. Things have definitely changed!

The last paragraph really is just great. Though to be honest technology tends to be a negative thing because it removes the human interaction in road trips. We suddenly now have our own worlds where we’re alone along with our phones / laptops.

Actually that was the angle I was going for. Thanks JB.

I agree with EVERYTHING. (Except that I much prefer reading to electronics). 😉 😀 I HATE it when somebody says “I’m BORED.” My hair bristles at the thought of someone being bored when they have the whole world around them.

Great piece which keeps me reading on. The last paragraph is wonderful. 🙂

I never could read in a moving vehicle.  Even with all of today’s technology,  my kid’s still cry boredom.  I think they suffer from the same “car sickness” affliction as I have my whole life.  Although, I believe technology doesn’t add anything, it subtracts a whole heck of a lot!  Loved your writing.

It’s odd but I have the opposite reaction. I wish they could experience just a little of the joy of those good old days when we we not all separate and know they joy of singing loudly and off key hurtling down the road to a new shared adventure

The rain pounded on the car, a thunderous sound on the silver metal hood of their little car as they they drove northeast to Rochester, New York. An unexpected trip they didn’t plan to take. They had no plans this New Year’s Eve so Rick had planned an impromptu road trip to Rochester. Erin had always wanted to go to New York for New Year’s eve but by the time they got on the road they knew they wouldn’t make it to New York. They settled for Rochester. Erin stared blankly out the window. The darkness outside made the car feel like a tightly enclosed space adding to the mounting anxiety burning deep in her stomach. Rick reached over and squeezed her knee. He always squeezed her knee, on car trips when she drifted and he wanted her to talk to him. She didn’t feel much like talking on this trip. “This will be fun,” He said to her with a smile. There was an air of genuine excitement in his voice. She nodded. She knew Rick had nothing planned. They would arrive at a hotel and from there they would meandering aimlessly in a strange town in the middle of the night. They would end up in a bar with strangers for the midnight count down, she was certain. She let out a breath, silently. Trying to release some of the tension inside her. She told herself it would all be fine. But, things hadn’t been fine for a while and this trip only reminded her of the disconnection that was growing between them. It seemed to be getting worse and worse everyday. This trip felt like an attempt by Rick to pull her back into him. It only really prolonged the inevitable, in her mind, at least. She looked over at Rick. He noticed and smiled at her. She gave him a forced tight lipped smile in return. She turned her attention back to the darkness beyond the car window.

I like it. I felt the tension.

This is interesting. I don’t really like the narrator because I can’t figure our why she is still with this guy, but I would keep reading to see what was going to happen mostly because it’s a trip and trips often show conflict well. I like the phrase “pull her back into him”. The first paragraph is confusing I think because you say the trip is unplanned too many times and in different ways..

Good story–very heartfelt.

I think this is an interesting narrative depicting inner tension and anxiety in the woman, who is evidenly not at home anymore in the relationship. This might make a good scene in a longer story developing the reasons for the tensions and their resolution. Does he attempt “to pull her back into him” because he wants her to be an extension of himself, or maybe his posession? In my opinion, the second “car” in the first sentence is somewhat redundant — there are all manner of descriptive nouns that could be used to fill in the portrait — their little (BMW? roadster? Toyota? the possibilities are like endless!)

The description is great. I know it was only fifteen minutes for the practice, but I was left wanting more. DID Erin end up in a bar? Or did Rick pull off something amazing?

I love the built-in futility of the beginning (having lived near Rochester and in New York). It shows the incompatibility between the characters so clearly right from the start.

Joe, I’m sorry for you terrible BBQ brisket experience, but that’s what you get planning a road trip through Texas. Next time go through my home state of Missouri and enjoy some delicious Kansas City BBQ brisket or St. Louis ribs. Wash ’em down with a cold Bud and then finish it off with our famous Gooey Butter Cake and Frozen Custard.

We may just have to add a day to the trip and do that. 🙂

I loved your story, especially the scene about barbeque. Here’s my attempt.

Kin Marla Cantrell

I’m writing a review for the new album Kin that author Mary Karr wrote with singer/songwriter Rodney Crowell and I’m thinking about drinking again. The whole thing is about drinking and pickups and firearms and cussing and drinking, you get my drift, and I’m trying to find a way to say I love the album but you shouldn’t drink, no sir, you should not drink to excess, which is what you do now if you’re a writer for a responsible publication, and don’t we all want to be responsible?

So I’m thinking about drinking and I’m thinking about family, which is the catalyst for this album, and I say in it that family makes you as crazy as a sprayed roach, and then I worry that my family will read this and be offended, and hit BACKSPACE, and up in the cabinet is a bottle of Arkansas Moonshine that I took home from a bluegrass show last July, and it’s calling to me, all sweet and sinister at the same time, but I’ve got another story to write, about beer makers, my Lord, beer makers, and my eye starts to twitch.

I chunk the story for now, and get back to the review. Norah Jones sings, “If the law don’t want you, neither do I,” and I remember that summer with Troy who had a twin named Roy, and how Troy stole change from Coke machines in rest stops all along I-40 all the way up to Little Rock, and how I rode with him on those black nights, and how it felt like flying to be so close to him, the quarters piling up, and his arm around me and the windows down. He took me to Del’s Place, out past a cow pasture in Clarksville, where they’d serve you if you looks old enough to do long division, and we drank beer that stuck on the bar, which I now know, thanks to the beer makers I interviewed, is not a good sign.

There used to be a man with fancy leather pants whose entire job was to wait on the brewers, let them pour their beer on a bench, and then he’d sit on the beer for thirty minutes. If his pants stuck, the beer was bad. If he’s was at Del’s Place, it’d take a crow bar to set him free.

In the review I say I love Mary Karr’s foray into country music, and her triumph over alcohol that led her to write Lit, and how I have my own demons, don’t we all? I say, but drinking is not one of them. No-sir-ee, I say, but now I’m sweating, and the moonshine’s talking, and Troy still lives up in the hills, a half day’s drive away, and my keys are right there where I can see them. Right there like an omen, like dare, like a bad country song.

Wow. That was impressive. The second sentence in the first paragraph is confusing, needs to be made into two. Other that that this is great, perfect.

Thanks Marianne. I think you’re right. I just started writing and kept going. It needs editing, but it was so much fun.

Oh my goodness, I LOVE this character!! Hilarious, and I love the feel of this piece – you’ve hit the nail with the pace and ‘ramblings’!!! They’d serve you ‘if you’re old enough to do long division’, the keys are ‘like a bad country song’. REALLY enjoyed the freedom of this. Please write more!!!

Thank you so much. You made me smile. It was really fun writing it.

The last bit is awesome. 😀

Thank you so much, Themagicviolinst.

The sun set early on that cold night in November we hit the road. The entire family, as well as Grandpa Ace, was headed across the state to visit family for Thanksgiving. I was at the wheel, while Ace rode shotgun; the wife and kids were safely stowed in the back of our minivan.

I hate driving at dusk. It seems my eyes have a hard time adjusting from day to night vision. The lights of oncoming cars blur and multiply on my dirty windshield. I’m convinced that every oncoming car has purposely turned on their high beams just to mess with me.

State Highway 54 is a narrow two lane road heavily traveled by farmers, hunters and college students. That’s not a great combination; so it’s important to stay alert and practice defensive driving.

Ace is breathing heavily next to me, fogging up the window. His asthma is working overtime due to his lung cancer treatments. I try not to act annoyed, being that he’s dying and all.

“If we pick up the speed, we might be able to make the last quarter of the football game when we get there,” Ace said. I hate driving when my father-in-law is in the car.

I see up ahead a police car and a truck pulled over on the other side of the road. The policeman is shining his flashlight towards me.

“Why is he doing that? Doesn’t he know that’s blinding me?” I say, highly aggravated. I slow down to about forty and keep moving ahead. As I get up next to the cop with the blinding light, I hit something.

Thud! Kerplunk-kerplunk!

My windshield goes dark, completely covered in deer juice.

That was great Tom. I’m so glad your posting her again. I like how you describe that time at dusk when it gets really hard to see. I can definitely sympathize with your narrator. Well done.

Love it! Grandpa Ace is a great name. Makes me feel like he was once a powerful man and even though he is sick, his ego must be maintained. Shows the difficulty of keeping track of a lot of details at once.

Thanks! This is actually a true story and my F-I-L was named Ace. And your description of him is spot on!

I can identify with your driver. Every other driver absolutely puts his high beams on to purposely blind me. It’s a conspiracy I’m telling you.

I love your description of Highway 54. Great work.

Really enjoyable reading, due mostly to the sardonic family humor!

ewwww … deer juice! Great piece.

I’m so excited. My parents are taking my brothers and I to a beach to celebrate my 11th birthday. We’ll camp and get to stay up late. I’m a little more excited about the staying up late part than the camping park. There will be bugs. Sandy restrooms too. But at least I’ll get to stay up late. I’m pretty sure we’re mostly going for my mom since she loves the beach so much, but that’s fine. I love the beach too.

We always take our road trips at night. My parents probably think we’re all back here asleep. My brothers are, but I’m not. Ha. All they do is sleep. My mom says they’re always tired because they’re growing, but they’re only 13 and 15 years old. Not that much older than me anyway.

I like them the most when they’re asleep anyway. Even if they did put me in the middle for our car ride down. I don’t know why they think it’s fair to put me in the middle of them. Every single car trip. Just because I’m a girl. Hmph.

I can feel the energy of the narrator. “I like them the most when they’re asleep anyway.” So true!

You have a great narrator here. She is very authentic and I would keep reading were this a longer piece to hear more from her.

What is a road trip without snacks. My favorite road snack, well probably really my favorite snack overall, is popcorn. For the car, I usually stop at Trader Joe’s and get their salted corn popped in olive oil. Once, when driving across country, I went about 15 miles out of my way to stop at the closest Trader Joes. My boyfriend said I needed to get back “on point” if I was going to complete the drive from Southern California to Georgia. That tells you a lot about that relationship. I’m enjoying my road trip and he’s talking about being “on point.”

That was the trip where I decided almost at the drop of a hat to move across country. I had 3 weeks to empty my house, load what was left in my car and arrive in Georgia start my new job. I usually don’t make snap decisions like that and after that one,and I know why. Lets just say the job didn’t even last a year.

Now it’s sounding like I don’t have any stability, changing boyfriends, changing jobs, moveing across the country. Well I used to be the most stable person in the world. My nickname in college was Maytag – because I was so dependable. But that was a long time ago.

I took a great road trip came when I was in high school. What kind of parents would let their 17 year old girl get in a car with three boys and drive half way across the state to see a friend’s college play? Only the best in the world – mine.

That brings me to another key ingredient of a legendary road trip. Music. For that trip in 1984, the music that still stands out in my mind is Queen’s “We Will Rock You – We are the Champions.” Oh yeah, they were doing mashups before there were mashups. Driving down the freeway, John K’s feet hanging out the front passenger window and all four of us pounding on whatever was closest shouting “We will, We will., Rock You!” Sigh

So far we have two key ingredients in the road trip – snacks and music. But what about the car you ask? Isn’t that an essential ingredient. Well, it depends. A road trip could be by road, rail or air. While I didn’t realize it at the time the trip I took with my parents from San Diego to Seattle on the Amtrak was a road trip too. Although I was only about 11 that was a really great road trip, too.

So here we are at the final ingredient I have time to discuss today. The Company. At eleven years old, my parents were great company. At seventeen, three boys was even better. Now at nearly 50 I find my own company some of the best.

We drove for half an hour before saying anything. Cate and I were exhausted after the previous day’s drive through the south-eastern states. Waking up in Amarillo today was like opening our eyes on an entirely new world. The air was bitter, the sky straight-up blue, and the light of the sun was sharp, as if there was nothing between us and that great ball of fire. Insects were fewer, but the windshield would not get clean. I hit the dash after another attempt to clear off the glass. Cate looked at me as if she had just gotten a mouthful of dust. “We’re out of wiper fluid.” It was all she said, but it felt like she had just unzipped our pouch-full of problems and dumped them into the jeep. It was another jab at my ineptness, my inability to prepare for the trip, my incapability of doing any job to her standards, my lack of responsibility because I was still out of what she termed a ‘real job’, and my failure to give her a happy marriage. I felt like pulling over, getting out, and walking along the highway like a cowboy in one of those westerns I loved. Oh yeah, that was another thing my wife hated. Cate wiped her forehead. “It’s so hot, why don’t you turn on the air?” My brow must have furrowed too low for her, as I studied her, trying to figure out why I had married her in the first place; because she narrowed her eyes at me and said, “What? You don’t have to get mad just because I’m hot. It’s not my fault we’re out here in the middle of nowhere to see your parents.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry you’re miserable. You didn’t have to come.” She tossed her head and her red hair barely moved from all the hairspray she’d bathed it in. “Of course I didn’t. But someone has to keep you in line.” I laughed, completely unamused. “You know what, Cate, I don’t want any of this.” She hardly flinched, although I did. “You don’t know what you want, Caleb. You have no backbone. Just turn on the air conditioning and drive.” I wanted to hate her for her words, but I couldn’t because I knew her words were true. I didn’t know what I wanted. But at the same time she was wrong; I might not know what I wanted, but I knew I didn’t want her. As I started to count how many words we had spoken that day, she coughed and said, “Caleb, you know you need to think about what sort of job you want to get. Daddy doesn’t like you living off my allowance.” “I’m sure.” I grunted. “I don’t know why you have to live on his money anyway.” I said it softly, not harsh or cold, completely emotionless. “Shut up and drive, Caleb,” she snapped as I started to tell her how much I disliked her, her family, everything about her stupid life. Cate rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you stopped fooling around trying to write songs, you could make real money at something. Daddy is holding that position open for you and I will tell him you’ve taken it.” We sat in silence as I contemplated how best to tell her I hated everything about her. I wanted to make her hurt. Just as I mustered enough courage to say, “Cate?” she gasped and gave a tiny shriek. “Oh my gosh, where is my purse! Stop the car, stop the car!” I pulled over, looked into her startled, angry brown eyes and said it. The words that I had been biting back since the day I said I do. They finally came out. At least, I heard my voice yell at her. “I’m done, Cate. I want out.” I sat back and waited. Her eyes glistened and I thought maybe, just maybe she was going to cry. Maybe she would show some emotion and I would know her heart was not petrified. “Did you hear me?” I said, but the scratchiness of my voice betrayed my fear. There was a tiny tear in her right eye and my heart lept to think that she would react. “I can’t believe I left it. What if somebody stole it? It’s probably back at the hotel, right?” “What is wrong with you?” I said, hoping she would react at last to what I had said earlier. “Don’t you care that I can’t stand the sight of you? I hate being with you–I always have. Don’t you care that I don’t love you!?” I blanched, surprised at myself for finally expressing those thoughts that had tortured me for months. My emotions had felt so just, so right in the quiet of my heart, but as soon as I had spoken them, I felt dirty and cruel. Cate didn’t seem to care that I was pallid and sweating; if she did notice, she probably thought I was just hot from the oppressive heat. She tilted her chin up and repeated, “Just shut up and drive.” But there was something different. A tone in her voice that told me I had hit the nail on the head.

Painfully real and honest, Mollie. It was like they were both in different cars and conversations. I loved the line, “My emotions had felt so just, so right in the quiet of my heart, but as soon as I had spoken them, I felt dirty and cruel.” Sad to say, I’ve been there, done that. Great job!

Thank you very much. I have been there as well; I guess Caleb was really a reflection of myself at times…his quiet, cool bitterness. It felt truly awful to write those words he spoke to his wife.

I love the fact that the wiper fluid is the spark to all this… so true to life – that feeling that it truly is the last straw, that something so small can bring so many huge issues to the surface.

Thank you–I feel the same way. The simplest things can spark a huge fire!

I used the writing prompt as a way to reconnect with some memories from my childhood, writing about them for 15 minutes on my blog: http://amairedinsmore.com/2012/06/13/writing-prompt-road-trip/

Joe, just a note to say how much I like your photo images. You are doing a spectacular job of adding to your writing with great imagery. Love this road photo.

Thanks Cynthia. You’re too nice, though. If they’re good, though, I blame it on the flickr creative commons. I’d be lost without it.

She smirked to herself as she slid into the back seat. “This oughta be somethin’ to write home about.” Not that she would. The car turned onto the main road and the hum of the tires on the pavement was all that could be heard for the next half an hour.

A crackle and a sharp voice that sounded like it was coming from inside a tin can startled her. It was the dispatcher at the sherif’s station. The sherif picked up the receiver and mumbled a response. She straightened up and looked around.

The road lay before them like a rattlesnakes’ back, slithering silently through the hot sand. She chortled to herself. The sound of her laugh surprised her. She didn’t laugh very often. Her laugh had a different effect on the Sherif. His eyes, which were framed perfectly in the rear view mirror, narrowed. “You shut up back there” he warned.

The warning irritated her. “Why’s that Sherif?” she hissed. ” You can’t even get at me through that fence. I never been this far outta Haxton before and I will laugh about it if I damn well want to.” She felt empowered. She whispered to herself, “I’ll never tell them who did it. I promised.”

Oh, I’d like to read the rest of this. I like her already! She sounds like a hoot!

haha, thanks! I’m pretty sure she’s insane. I’m continuing it on my blog. http://www.rainybrook.org . Think I’ll work on it throughout the week. Post a new bit every evening.

I love the images and feel of the third paragraph – from rattlesnake’s back to her laugh that suprised her, to the Sherrif’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. Nice.

I love the reveal on being in the back of the Sherif’s car. I want to follow this character around as she gets into trouble.

I’m continuing this story at http://www.rainybrook.org . I would love some input, especially on grammar etc.

I was seven years old in 1970 and riding shotgun in my dad’s 1968 Camaro. We were headed home with the top down. We had just spent a terrific week in the beautiful hills of middle Tennessee. I had a lot of firsts on that trip. I got my first taste of life outside of Chicago. I met my grandparents and some of my first cousins on my Dad’s side for the first time, and got into my first fight with one of them. I saw my first cow, rode my first horse, played in my first barn, and I was the first one in our family to see our new house. And now we were on our way back to Chicago, but I couldn’t get the memories of that week out of my head.

I didn’t want it to end. I wanted my dad to turn that car around and take me back and drop me off. I argued that I could stay with my new cousins until he brought my mom and sister down in the truck with our furniture. He didn’t buy it.

I was already becoming nostalgic as the country began to give way to the city. I remember it well. We drove away from fresh country air into the familiar fragrance of Chicago. I watched in disappointment as the beautiful rolling hills and colorful trees morphed into row houses and skylines. The pastures were replaced by city streets. The reality of returning to the city was grudgingly sinking in.

When we pulled up to the curb, some of my friends met me and asked about my trip. I just smiled and pulled out my very first silver dollar my new-to-me grandmother had given me just before we pulled out. With shrieks of joy they followed me as we ran to the five and dime on the corner of that city street in Chicago.

The four of us are crammed in John’s much-to-small silver pickup, ensorceled by British accents and lightning-fast guitar spilling from the stereo. There is Nothing in every direction for miles outside the truck’s cab. On a wintery Tuesday, in the dead chill of early morning, we are the only car creeping slowly up the I-5. No cars means no cops and the truck is filled from ceiling to floor boards with pot smoke.

John is driving and I am riding co-pilot, with Pud and Sebastian stuffed into the truck’s half-assed attempt at a back seat. Wrapped in every blanket we brought, the two of them look like a giant pile of rags, hands reaching up from the cozy abyss to grasp for bowl after bowl. When John says he can hardly see anymore, we roll down the windows and I imagine we must look every bit the smoking locomotive.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get back?” Pud asks. He and John just got back from this very trip a few months ago and are itching to introduce Sebastian and I to all of the things they discovered the first time they trekked up to Seattle.

“Um…” John says and quickly forgets that he had said anything at all.

I watch Nothing stretch on before us and then quickly slip by to make room for more Nothing, all the while a knot twisting in my gut. The first thing I want to do is hit a handle of whiskey and explore the new world we have set out for. The first thing I should do is tell them that I’m not going back to California…

“We’re looking for a nurse to help transport a ventilator patient from Coffeeville, KS back here.”

I quickly raised my hand to get my supervisors attention.

“I’ll do it! I could really use the overtime.”

The trip from south Kansas City to Coffeeville Kansas and back would be a long one; seven hours round trip.

“Hey, what could be more glamorous than being able to tell my friends that I helped transport a critically ill patient two hundred miles?” I told myself.

Excitedly, I climbed into the ambulance. The medic was already strapped into his seat which was located right behind the wall separating the drivers cab from the box portion of the truck. I had the pleasure of sitting on the long bench. You have seen this seat before in the movies or on TV. It is where the medical professional sits and works on the patient while the ambulance is screaming down the highway headed to the hospital. It is the glamor seat, of course.

This long, bench style, seat was quite possibly the least comfortable place on earth. Imagine, if you will, trying to sit on your kitchen counter top for three-and-a-half hours while being driven down the windy, gravel covered back roads of Kansas, and every time you try to stretch your back to get comfortable, the upper cabinets gouge into the back of your neck. This is an ambulance ride across the great state of Kansas.

Trying to lie down was worse. There was no restraining belt of any kind on this seat. It was impossible to lie down on this thing. I had to keep one leg on the floor at all times to keep from being thrown clear of the edge. Every bump in the road caused the entirety of my body to bounce completely off the firm foam seat. What I hoped would be an opportunity to sleep on the way down to Coffeeville turned into an opportunity to realize that I get severely sick when riding in the back of a vehicle with no windows.

Once we arrived in Coffeeville I flung open the back door of the ambulance, and stumbled clear of the truck. I quickly grabbed the biggest container of water I could find, and slammed it down hoping to hydrate away my pounding headache and overwhelming nausea.

I followed the ambulance crew into the small hospital attempting to stand as erect as possible and not appear disabled. We found our patient, complete with portable ventilator, three bags of IV medications, an indwelling catheter and a feeding tube.

We transfered the patient onto the gurney and headed back towards the ambulance.

It did not look as glamorous this time. The rear doors looked more like the mouth of a monster that wanted to eat me.

Your description of how uncomfortable the bench was was really effective. I felt that gouge and winced.

My red-haired sister picks me up from the store early that afternoon. We head south from Fort Worth on the Cleburne highway, and the memories set in at once of all the summertime trips to the family reunions at Ben and Sarah’s place on the Brazos River, between Glen Rose and Nemo, less than a mile from the low-water bridge, site of my near-drowning and salvation at the hands of my dad at age fourteen; I always swam like a rock, and did not realize that day how swiftly the sand bottom was washing away. The land seemed unchanged by the intervening decades’ passing. Colors shone bright and vivid — deep blue big sky, stunted evergreen trees, the large flat white rocks that line the sides of two-lane country highway. We lost our way just this side of Glen Rose, then found it just by remembering carefully. “That’s our story . . .” Sis began, ” . . . and we’re stickin’ to it!” I finished. There was a good-sized group of people at the little frame house, and we all walked up the hill to the family cemetery to see our Uncle Ben laid to rest. Quiet, scholarly (and a career school-teacher), creative, artistic, he was my absolute favorite uncle because he was so different. I’m glad I have my broad-brimmed straw hat and wrap-around sunglasses on. I have dropped twenty years, and aged forty, with this road trip. I won’t be able to make my wife understand.

Fort Worth, Cleburne, Brazos, Glen Rose, all my stompin grounds. good job.

Thank you ! Absolutely love that country.

You had me at red-haired sister. I love this. The line “found it just by remembering carefully” is wonderful.

Thank you very much!

This ends with another interesting comment about time. I like how you put that. Good writing.

My father asked me what happened in the witch doctor’s hut. I said, what witch doctor? He said, you wrote a post card home, you wrote about it. What? I had no recollection. Six weeks hitchhiking around East Africa and I get home and can’t remember. How weird is that? I can only think it occured on the shores of Lake Victoria when our steamer stopped at Kisumu, giving us six hours to get into trouble. I hired a taxi to run me into the bundu for quick lookie-loo. The driver delivered me to a village where a traveling judge was presiding over an outdoor session, during which a character flaunting a pink boa and dancing to music in his own head, decided, at great embarrassment to me, to entertain me, the only muzungu. My mind goes blank. But obviously not immediately blank, because I had written home about it. I’d also written about wandering into lion country after midnight and being inticed back to town by a klatch of kids concerned for my health. They stood across the road and stopped the next vehicle, a tire truck. They unhappily put me in the back. I spent a moonlit night bouncing through Tanzania in a cage piled high with tires. I remember that. I remember getting stung by jellyfish in Mombasa. I remember getting picked up by the Tanzanian Highways minister in a cool cream Mercedez and wondering how he got the scars on the back of his hand. I remember shrimp curry in Dar es Salaam. I remember walking the Kenyan savannah country with ostriches on one side of me and zebra on the other. I remember being shit scared. But for the life of me I don’t remember that witch doctor. I reckon it’s a good thing I’m a skeptic. I don’t believe in spells. I don’t believe in much. But hitting the road…now, that’s my religion.

So much description in this piece. I got a feel for the variety of places in your words.

Wow. What great writing.

This is so great, PJ. I like how conversational and yet powerful it is.

I want to read an entire travelogue of this trip!

Joanne has a headache. And we know the only thing that will cure that. The open road.

We pile in, Snail with his leaky nose, Sammy with his fistful of chocolates and me. We squeeze in the back because Joanne needs space to allow her head to rest. Maybe in an hour or so, I’ll be bumped up to the front seat. It all depends on whether her headache is gone or not. So much of my life depends on her moods, so it makes sense to me that the tone of the roadtrip will be too.

Nobody says anything. Snail is holding his head back to stop the inevitable, and Joanne’s glaring at him through the rearview mirror, just daring him to sniff. He knows better. I look out at the industrial building, all grey and straight, and just like the one next to my house.

I want to ask her to drive way faster than the speed limit, way faster that’s safe, but I just scratch the pink nailpolish off my nails instead. Snail’s head’s waving to and fro with the pressure from staying bent out of shape so long, and it looks like he’s struggling to breathe. I realise I’m holding my breath just watching this play out. Sammy’s grabbing for a chocolate wrapper and tearing it open for dear life, and he can’t eat it fast enough.

Joanne puts her hand to her temples. ‘That’s not helping,’ she says, meaning that she doesn’t want Sammy to rustle chocolate papers in her car.

‘Can I give you a massage?’ I ask.

She shrugs her shoulders, which means OK. So I lean over Sammy and his chocolate, putting an elbow on his hairy leg, and start squeezing Joanne’s tight shoulders through her navy cardigan.

It’s then that Snail sniffs. Not just a little one, but a humongous sniff that he’s been holding onto since he got into the car. Joanne slams on the breaks. I look out and see the fir trees in the distance.

This is fantastic! I LOVE the name Snail, and your descriptions are wonderful. How many times have I chipped off nail polish when I really wanted to do something else? Did you really do this in just 15 minutes? I may be jealous.

Haha, thanks Marla! That means we’re both jealous then! 😉 Question – do you live in the South? If so, where? It sure sounds like it! 😉 I lived there for a while, though I’m in South Africa now, and find myself OFTEN writing Southern… I just LOVE the South!!

I do live in the South, Zo-Zo.  In Arkansas.  I’m the managing editor of @Urban:disqus  Magazine http://www.AtUrbanMagazine.  I’m the senior writer, so I get to do a LOT of writing, which led me to my post about the road trip.  I was juggling both stories and stopped to do this.  I love the South.  Where did you live?  (I love your writing!)

That was really good. Is Joanne their mother or there sister? It really doesn’t matter, she’s in charge and she’s mean and unstable. You really have some good characters going there.

thanks Marianne!! You’re really generous with your comments – I can’t wait to read your pieces! 🙂

Wonderful cast of characters here! Your descriptive words are excellent. I assumed they were small children when the piece started but saw a variety of ages, and genders, by the end. Very well done!

Thanks, Beth… So good to hear! 🙂

I want to know what happens next. Interesting story. I’m curious why everything depends on Joanne.

I like the ending when Snail finally sniffs. It was all great, Joanne’s tension, the kids trying to help but they’re not really helping, the description. I have only one thing (and really, it’s just me being picky as usual). At the beginning it says, “We pile in, Snail with his leaky nose, Sammy with his fistful of chocolates and me.” It sounds like Sammy has a fistful of chocolates and her. (I assume it’s a her since the person has pink nail polish on). It needs a comma. Otherwise it’s great! 😀

Ha, ALL feedback – especially picky crit – is welcome!!! Thanks! 🙂

Phew! 😀 I’m always worried about being too picky. ;P You’re welcome! 😀

Read and enjoy 🙂

The day was scorching hot. The car’s AC was broken and the windows were down. I tried leaning forward and I felt my clothes sticking to my seat with my sweat as glue. In front of me was the road—endless and vast and lonely. Above me was the sun—red and angry and was following me like big brother’s eye. I pressed harder down on the gas and the car roared in protest. I kept on driving.

I knew perfectly where I had come from, but my destination was still a mystery. I just decided I needed a drive alone. I packed light—just a few snacks, two bottles of water, and three handpicked music CD’s. An hour of driving reduced the buildings to trees. Two hours passed and the people became rocks. Eventually the other cars became ghosts and I was the only one driving on that road. The trees lost their leaves and became bare and naked and dead. I kept on driving.

I stopped and pulled the handbrake. I grabbed a bag of Cheetos and ripped it open. Maybe I wasn’t driving, not really. It was more of an escape. I needed an escape from her, from the words thrown, from the voices raised, and from her leaving. I needed, no, wanted to be alone. I needed to be moving because whenever I stopped, my mind would wander back to her. I’d remember stuff—the scent of her shampoo on her hair, the way she pursed her lips absentmindedly, the way she said that she just wasted two years of her life with me. The words felt like daggers. I lowered the handbrake and I kept on driving.

I eased on the gas and the car slowed down to 20. My right hand grabbed a random CD and I pushed it in the car’s audio system—I thanked the good lord that the radio still worked. Strumming of guitars filled my oven-hot car and I knew what song was being played. It was our favorite. The playing of harmonica followed the guitars. The voices came on last. I sang with them. I sang loud. My tuneless voice rose out of the open window and into the barren landscape. I sang until the end of the second chorus. The third chorus had a different voice—a female’s. I stopped singing, smiling, waiting for her to sing—this had always been her solo part. I waited. Then, I remembered we’re no longer together. I was driving alone. The smile dropped from my lips and the song ended in silence. I kept on driving.

That kind of points out how the end of a love affair has both it’s bad and good moments no matter how much one wants it to end. You get in the habit of having the other person around. Very well done as usual

Thanks Marianne. Yeah, especially if the two of you were together for a long time.

Well done! Sad ending.

Thanks Beth. 🙂

The sadness is tangible through all the little details you remember about her, and your description of the road. The driver’s resilience and doggedness comes through vividly – the repetition of the phrase ‘I kept on driving’ is very effective…

The story just felt so sad. Like how everything revolves around a single person when you’re together. And when things get rough and eventually break, the routine, the feeling of having someone there all the time just shatters you to a gazillion pieces.

“The higher you climb, the harder you fall.”

I loved the end where he forgets that they’re not together again. Sad and mysterious. Nice job! 😀

Thomas loved road trips. It had been quite some time since he had driven one so this would be an extra special treat.

“Tommy, I am so excited, where are we going?” Madge’s voice cut thought Thomas’s reverie, quickly grounding him in the reality that such a carefree excursion would not be so carefree. The city slugged by as they battled traffic on the wide expressway, not fast enough, thought Thomas, as that cankerous voice assaulted his right ear. “Oh, Tommy, so thoughtful of you to take me away on a trip! But for heavens sake, tell me, where are we going? You never even let me pack a bag, oh I will have to buy clothes when we get there I suppose.”

Thomas did not look away from the view over the curve of the steering wheel as he replied in a distracted monotone. He was taking Madge on a long trip. He barely heard her as she lamented about how his boss would never approve the extended leave. This whining wife of his was always thinking on the downside. If all went well, he would not have to return to work again anyway after this journey was done.

Honking horns gave way to the blissful hum of tires speeding along the freeway, and soon concrete melded into suburbia. Madge opened her window and the breeze tossed her chemical stiff hair all about. Thomas did not look at her once but he was sourly reminded of her presence as the scent of her expensive perfume permeated the tiny car.

The sun was high and the freeway thinned down to a ribbon of road that stretched for miles before them. Only a few others traveled this way now, seen only as shiny dots far ahead of them in the haze. Thomas led the car off an exit and the gentle tinging of the turn signal was barely audible above the din of the engine. For a brief moment the sun got caught in Madge’s hair. For an instant it transformed her head into some feral torch while she absentmindedly studied her top notch salon manicure that Thomas had paid for with his blood, sweat, and tears.

Flat expanse soon rose up around the little car in rolling mounds, green fields dotted with the shadows of clouds passing overhead. Thomas remembered how he used to make pictures in the clouds when he had been just a boy, back before the days of long hours at the factory, piles of bills, and the incessant company of a nagging and useless wife. What had he ever seen in her? He realized that he did not even know anymore.

The drive back home was peaceful. It would be nearly morning when the trip would finally end, but that was ok, Thomas did not plan on going into the foundry in the morning. As he looked over to the empty passenger seat to his right, he inwardly exalted the thought of never returning to that stinking place again. For years he labored away while Madge spent every dime, but now the insurance money would more than pay him back for all the trouble she had caused.

Thomas pulled into the driveway at last, and for the first time in years a genuine smile turned up the corners of his thin lips.

That’s chilling. You got a complete story done in fifteen minutes. I’m impressed

Somehow I knew Madge was destined to die the first time she opened her mouth! Excellent piece of writing. I really enjoyed this!

This sentence, “The first time since I was six­teen and only spoke six words to him the whole trip,” felt awkward to me but otherwise really enjoyed your piece. 🙂 Maybe it’s the word “since.” Seems to flow better without it.

Here’s the most basic math problem any idiot can solve: A road trip from New Jersey to California + No electronics allowed in the car + two annoying little brothers + an annoying older sister = BOREDOMVILLE. It’s every 12-year-old boy’s nightmare. So at six o’clock in the morning, everyone reluctantly began to pack the car, still yawning and still rubbing half-closed eyes. We barely fit all of the stuff into our minivan. The worst part (besides the electronic ban) was that I was stuck sitting next to my big sister Gabby who was popping bubble gum and chewing loudly. I rolled my eyes in frustration and sat down, arms crossed, on the seat. “This’ll be fun!” My mom said, giving us a huge smile and making the thumbs up sign on both of her hands. “Uh huh,” Gabby said. “Yeah, Mom, you can stop lying to us right now. We are not going to have fun.” Mom frowned slightly in her disapproving way. “Now, Gabby-.” “Why do we have to drive to see Grandma and Grandpa?” My little brother Trent inturuppted before giving a humongous yawn, showing the gaps in his mouth from the teeth that had fallen out. “Why can’t they fly on an airplane to see us? They have, like, a bazillion dollars.” “Trent, we thought it would be nice to surprise them, remember?” My dad reminded him as he put yet another bulky suitcase in the bulging trunk. “They always come visit us so we thought they’d enjoy us visiting them.” Trent stuck out his lower lip and narrowed his eyes. “Plus, this gives us a chance to spend time as a family,” Mom said, trying to stay positive. “For once I’d rather be in school,” Ben said. Ben was the second youngest kid in our family, Trent being the youngest. Mom opened her mouth to give one of her “school is wonderful and you should appreciate it and don’t you want to learn?” speeches, then closed her mouth, thinking better of it. “Time to go, kids!” Dad yelled, clapping his hands together several times. We all got in the car and buckled in. As soon as we set off down the road, Mom pointed out everything to us, whether it was a Texas license plate (“That’s not very common around here!”) or a calf drinking milk. (“Isn’t it so cute!”) Three hours later, I finally caved and pulled out one of the “Boredom Busters” Mom had packed for me. She and Dad were now singing along to a cheesy romantic duet on the radio and I was trying to figure out how to block out the screeching. I reached into the backpack labeled “Jonathon” and pulled out an item at random. It was a book. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling. I read the back. Mom had done it. She had found a book that I thought looked interesting. I read the first page. And the second. And the third. I was on Chapter 10 when it started to get dark and Mom forced me to put the book down, (she actually forced me to put a book down!) insisting that it was bad for my eyes to read in the dark. I rumaged in the backpack for a flashlight. Unfortunately, she hadn’t packed one. After a few days, we reached California and I had finished the book. As soon as we stopped for a bathroom break before going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, I begged my mom to take me to the nearest book store so we could purchase the second Harry Potter book. She was so excited that I was interested in reading, that she agreed. Three months later, I had finished the whole series and had watched all of the movies. And that, ladies and gentleman, is how I discovered the love of reading. And that is also discovered how much I loved roadtrips. (Not that I’d ever go on one again without a good book).

A good book is essential for a long road trip! How clever of your mom to introduce you to reading that way.

LOL! 😀 Actually, this story isn’t about me. I wrote it based on people I know. 😉

I had butterflies in my stomach as I packed the car. I was driving from southern Alabama to middle Georgia with a four year old, but otherwise alone. Not a long trip by some standards. Still there were plenty of unknowns. It had been some years since I’d driven most of the day, serving as mommy, navigator, and driver. Not to mention the funeral at the end of the trip.

I checked items off my mental list. Afraid I would forget something. I like more time to prepare, but funerals wait for no one.

The first hour or so it rained. Maggie asked me, “Are we there yet,” at least 30 times. It wasn’t long though before we settled comfortably into our trip. As I left the live oaks and Spanish moss of the coastal south the familiar winding roads through pine forests felt like a memory.

As the scenery changed images from the past imposed themselves on my surroundings. I felt myself smiling as I recalled road trips to Grandma’s. Huge columned homes, mouldering in their grandeur, flashed by. Split rail fences; orange back roads; and grey outbuildings, decaying under a layer of vines, sped by as the road drew me closer to childhood.

As I followed a print out of Googled directions another journey was being sorted out. The hours afforded me time. I gained perspective on a relationship that had become fuzzy, the edges smudged and undefined. Peace settled and gratitude accompanied me as the last miles fell away.

Some beautiful lines here! I love the nostalgia of ‘the familiar winding roads through pine forests felt like a memory’. ‘huge columned houses, mouldering in their grandeur, flashed by’ – what an image!!

Engine started. Brakes checked. Mirrors adjusted. Music playing. Camera ready. Go!

I just quit my job and my parents wouldn’t stop bickering about how life was too short to be wasted on useless dreams like being a photographer. It wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t useless.

The sky was starting to turn a nice shade of pink as I turned to the highway. A lovely mix of colors. I moved to the emergency lane and turned on the hazard lights. I opened the windows and framed the sky and the highway together.

Click. One beautiful moment captured. 

I took a couple more shots from a different angle and started to drive again.

My GPS gave me directions to the first destination I entered before leaving: a small wedding chapel.

Just in time, I thought as I saw the couple walk out of the chapel smiling happily at the crowd with hands entwined together. Happiness. Love. Trust. Everything wonderful in a single portrait.

I stared at the couple and imagined myself walking down the aisle. Tears started to flood my eyes. 

Happiness. What is happiness for me? Where can I find it?

I let myself think for a while longer but realized that this wasn’t the only way to get happiness. Marriage isn’t the only thing.

Time to get back in the car and drive, continue on the journey of life. 

Terribly bad with grammar and tenses. This is my first time writing so go easy on me please.

——————————-

I don’t remember what brought me on the road. I only know I needed to get out of that house, get out and breathe in some fresh air. So I grabbed the keys, jumped into the car and just went off.

I have no idea where I’m going and when should I stop. All I wanted to do at the point was just to keep moving. Move and not think.

I can’t remember how long I must have driven. One hour, two hours, five hours, ten hours. It’s just seemed like an endless road. A road with no destination. I can just continue driving like this forever.

But reality pulled me back. Can I really escape? Can I really let go? Forget about the years together? Ignore the existence of our kids?

So all I can do is to give up and drove back, back to the house I ran away from. And to forget that this road trip even happened at all.

I still remember the car dance that Anna, Tiffany, and I created back in October 1999. We were on our way down to Jacksonville for a football game affectionately termed as the “World’s Largest Cocktail Party.” That’s right, the Georgia versus Florida football game. We were proud fans of the Bulldog Nation and drove down clad in our red and black. We went down there (some of us in the friend group three years in a row) more so for the football and the friends than for the cocktails, but I would be lying if I said the third was not at least a minor consideration. 🙂 If you were to meet Anna, Tiffany, and I nowadays, you never would guess that we partook in this event. Anna just earned a Ph.D. in Atmospheric Sciences and is about to have a two-year postdoctoral fellowship in England. Tiffany and I both earned master’s degrees and are now teachers. All three of us are and have been writers, at times professionally, at times as a hobby. Tiffany and Anna have baby girls who, coincidentally, will both turn a year old this July. I am an honorary aunt to both girls, and I greatly enjoy dancing and playing with them. Hopefully, they will be like the three of us and our girlfriends Jaymee and Laurie, studious girls who are career-oriented, but still like to have fun. Now, all three of us girls who created the car dance have bigger fish to fry than who wins the big game. But, I am still glad we took those college road trips. We formed friendships that would last a lifetime in the midst of screaming at football games until we were hoarse, going to “cocktail parties”, dancing in the car, and driving six to ten hours in a day to see a bunch of large college guys run into each other. I’ll definitely remember those games and road trips more than what I learned in my college classes, as much as I enjoyed reading Shakespeare.

Meet Spirit and Dance. six year old twins – they went on a road trip – a walking trip:

We call our mother “mother” because it annoys her. She would like us to address her as Sweet Divinity, the name she chose when she left home to join a commune. We found out years later she was called Mary Winifred O’Connell but we were used to mother by then and much as we would have liked to annoy her with Mary we could never remember it in time. We never really knew mother, just when we thought we understood what she was, she changed becoming more robust, or a little fragile, very political or like an earth mother. Her moods were like shifting sands, when other people were around she was always bright and shining like a beacon of hope. However when they left they snuffed out the spark of hope and we endured dark days, sometimes she didn’t cook for days or even get out of bed.

It was on one such deep black nadir, as long as we had known, lasting more than five days that we went in search of food and changed our lives forever. We could only count up to five and we had done that and eaten all the berries we could find. We weren’t sure about weeks but we knew it was autumn as the leaves were falling from trees, it was getting colder and both of us had put on shoes for the first time that year.

We dressed with care for the occasion of the big walk. Spirit was wearing orange corduroys with a yellow jumper that came down to her knees. Dance was wearing a dress that dragged along the ground made out of heavy crushed velvet. A dark blue matching cardigan two sizes too small finished her outfit.

We now know that we looked wild but back then it seemed natural to have our hair streaming down our back, unkempt with twig and leaf entwined. The clothes we wore were either too big or too small, all given by these transient caravanners as part payment for water and pitch. So on this particularly momentous day in our lives we thought we looked normal and set off down the road. We decided to walk down rather than up because when the people went for a walk in the evening they always went that way and came home cheery, loud and happy.

The first part we skipped as a new freedom descended on us, this slowly gave way to a slower pace until we were trudging. Our clothes were getting wet as rain dripped unnecessarily harshly, they hung down and got heavier and muddier as we marched our slow monotonous walk. The village started abruptly as we turned a bend, cottages on both sides gave way to terraces and eventually we saw a shop. We had brought money in mother’s purse. Although naïve about a lot of things we knew that mother gave money to get things and people sometimes gave money to her for staying with her. We pushed open the door and Dance spoke to the lady, well pointed at things; a packet of jam biscuits, a chocolate bar and bananas. Spirit opened the purse and gave it to the lady.

Honesty was thankfully well imbued in the shop lady and she only took out the £2.30 needed. We left and sat on a bench outside, each item came out of the bag, halved and stuffed unceremonially into our watering waiting mouths. We choked and spluttered our way through the food and with hiccups stood and went in search of something to quench our thirst.

As we turned a corner a group of children were coming the other way. We said hello to them but they laughed, encircling us, they pointed; at our hair, our faces now covered in chocolate and biscuit crumbs, our clothes, they said we smelled funny, we were dirty, and we were stupid. We cowered turning into each other, arm around protecting, not understanding why but aware of danger. The noise must have alerted some adults to investigate because suddenly the chanting stopped and we opened our eyes. A huge man stood over them asking who they were.

Spirit spoke, “I am Spirit. She is Dance.”

“Come on now girls, tell the truth. You have run away and stolen a lot of money. Mrs Hanrahan at the shop says you had more than fifty pounds in that purse. Tell the truth like good girls.”

Dance moved forward, facing him, she craned her neck until she could see his face, “We tell truth, me Dance and she is Spirit, we were hungry so we came for food.”

Spirit dragged her back to be with her and put her arms back around her

We were driving from California to Missouri and then from Missouri to Michigan. We would make stops when needed and see many states along the way. I was with my parents in my favorite yellow van, the one that looked like a special bus that I used to beg my parents not to pick me up from school in, but they didn’t listen. I loved the inside of that van though. The outside gave no indication of the awesomeness inside. The plush velour seats that were so comfortable and beautiful. You could write secret messages into the back of the chair and then wipe it away with one hand swipe. It was going to be a great trip.

And then I learned my stepsister and her daughter were coming as well. This meant I had to share the inside workings of the van with someone who was not only extremely selfish and vengeful, but she taught her daughter to be the same as well. As most road trips will treat small squeamish girls, I got car sick about three-quarters of the way through. I think we were in Oklahoma somewhere when my inertia couldn’t take the moving van any longer; the van where I sat claustrophobically trapped with someone who was not nice in any way, (they even looked nasty because they had a black, scrunched up soul that didn’t hold very much good inside). Her inside ugliness seeping out hour after hour, along with the trapped sensation inside a moving box, forced everything I had eaten up until that point to eject violently from wherever I sat. Apparently, I was sitting quite close to my stepsister’s pink satin blanket. Let me tell you, her heiness (or so she thought what with the pink satin) was mortified.

Although I had just given my stomach’s contents to her blanket, and obviously needed to just lay down, I’m pretty sure there was a smile there. If not an outward smile, then for sure a grin from deep within me. Nobody on the planet deserved a blanketful of 9-year old puke more than she did. There were many screams, a pull on the van door and much commotion to move my lifeless body to the side of the road where I could finish if I must. Her horrified screams proceeded as she wondered what she would do now with her blanket. I didn’t care what she did. As far as I was concerned, she could take her pink satin blanket with her and hitchhike home. Sadly, this is the memory that remains from this trip. Let’s just say it was the trip from hell.  

The day was hot and we didn’t set out as early as planned. There was always something to do at the last minute: check that all water and gas pipes were closed, set the answering machinge, leave enough food out for the cat.

Finally, we took to the road, only stopping to buy snacks and drinks. The way was long but we were excited. We put on a tape, started singing and laughing. I thought it was going to be a great rip.

We passed farmers bringing produce and flowers from the fields. There were stalls selling coconuts, mangoes and tepache (a pineapple fermented drink). We drove past archaeological sites that we had visited in school trips.

Once, we stopped in a small town because there was an old cathedral right by the side of the road and we wanted to take some pictures. It turned out it was being renovated because an earthquake (and time) had damaged it.

A little further on we saw a cutting on a mountain that was shaped like a heart. My sister loved that it seemed pink in the evening glow.

And after a few more turns, we saw it: Oaxaca. The lights were just starting to turn on and the valley seemed magical. We had been there once before, but we were very small and could barely remember the town. I felt as if we were discovering it for the first time.

I was excited about the history we were about to see, the gorgeous churches, the delicious food and incredible handcrafts. Perhaps we would even meet old friends. It was the best graduation gift my mom could give me, and Oaxaca did not disappoint.

There are certain songs that come on the radio and make me want to jump in the car and head across the Land of the Free. 

My dream is to start on the farthest east location in the United States and drive all the way across the United States and find the most Western point and then stop.

Do I take someone with me on take this  Pilgrimage– a finding myself from east to west and back again? 

Find the cutest convertible with the greatest sound system, because you will need a great stereo for that long of a drive.  Gas up and load the console with plenty of Chex mix, not the kind with m & m’s because they will melt.  A case of water which I will undoubtedly forget about and grab Coca Cola at every pee stop on the trek out west and I am ready to go. 

My only dilemma is do you drive and only stop at the great attractions like the giant ball of string. Do I stop in the tourist trap stops built for people just like me that think they are witnessing real Texas when they buy an Armadillo keychain.

Or do I spend a night here and take in a band and a meal.  Should I dance with the man who has grinned at me all night across the restaurant?  I could take the Tornado alley tours and witness what families are forced to endure every year.  I could stop at the World’s Largest Mall and the World’s smallest doorknob museum. 

I have a mental checklist in my head of things I want to find such as the best food in Texas and the Grand Canyon and spy a look at a local tribe on their reservation.  I want to peer across the cornfields of Iowa and the mountains of Montana.  I want to say I have been to Hell and back in Colorado and go and watch fish be thrown at the fish market in Seattle. 

I want to arrive on the West Coast and get out of my car and wriggle my toes in the sand of California. 

But until I can do that, I will finish dinner that is cooking on my stove.  Until I can get in that rented, red, car full of Chex Mix I will feed my family and dream of a trip on another day from sea to shining sea. 

The intent for this one wasn’t to fit with this, but it works out that the main character is (I think) the Disney Anti-Hero. This was inspired solely by James Halls’ commentary piece:

Before them, large, jagged mounds rose from the cave floor, a miniature of a landscape that belonged someplace else, where the sun was hot and scorching and the only fools who crossed it were adorned in thick soled hiking boots. Cella eyed the boy’s flimsy, tattered sneakers (if they could still be called that) piteously and wiggled her toes in her boots. Ah well.

“Take these, boy, quickly now.” She toed off her comfortable, well-worn shoes and handed them to him, almost bitterly. From the light of the lamp Cella carried, he observed her barefooted-ness.

“And what will you wear?” His little voice was expectant, as though he truly expected her to whip out an extra pair of shoes from inside her pant pocket.

Annoyed, she hissed, “Do you want them or not, prat?”

Silently, he took the shoes, and she felt a sting of bitterness, at herself, and at the boy. Feeling mutinous, she touched the tough pad of her big toe against the edge of the limestone landscape. At first it wasn’t so bad, but after a while her optimism faded, as her feet were assaulted from all sides by the brittle rock. She was sinisterly reminding herself that the boy hasn’t even tanked her for the shoes when she first heard it—an echoing far above them. She looked up.

Before, the roof of the cave felt oppressive and intrusive, and stirred within her feelings of claustrophobia previously unobserved by her. Yet now, as Cella gazed up with wonder and awe, her feelings of suppression dissipated, to be replaced by a sudden loneliness that conjured fear. Above her, the darkness moved in an endless abyss, a sky where no stars dwelled.

She stumbled as the rock broke beneath her and another piece fell on her left foot, digging, burrowing itself into the skin there, and when she lifted it, hissing, her skin oozed interlocking webs of blood. She threw the rock aside, where the shadows swayed mournfully and jeered at her beyond the broken bubble of light. The boy stood watching her, healthy and normal, and had just enough decency to look guilty as they trudged on, although perhaps his hanging head was just to watch his footing.

Z.C.S. July 10, 2013

Advice and such are strongly appreciated and encouraged. =)

“Above her, the darkness moved in an endless abyss, a sky where no stars dwelled.” I like this, but I think “moved” is a poor verb choice. This suggestion that something is moving above them. But, at least in this excerpt, you don’t show that.

Nice job of showing tension between the characters. I don’t think I did that well with my characters.

This is the beginning of something I’ve wanted to start for a long time. It is still pretty rough….

The call came unexpectedly. A jarring sound that pulled him into his bed and out of the darkness of slumber. He realized that his time of rest was over and rolled over to grab the phone without opening his eyes. The high pitched voice on the other end had a pinched quality to it, as though the back of the throat were cutting off the words despite her best efforts to create them. breathily, she asked, “Aaron Jade? Are you still doing detective work?”

He wondered briefly weather to answer or ask who was calling. Before he could do either, the raspy voice continued, “I need someone with your skills who can be counted on to be discreet, at least until my issue has been resolved to my satisfacation.”

It was obvious she was used to getting her way, what she wanted, and she wanted him, or rather his detective skills.

“Who is this?” He tried to sound harsh and demanding, “ I haven’t done a job in years. How did you get my number? No-one has access to this number unless I know about I what.”

“Who gave it to me isn’t important.” The breathiness had left her voice, and a commanding, I know-what-I-want-and-I’m-going-to-get-it tone had completely replaced any sign of fear. “I need someone who knows his way around, and will do whatever it takes to complete the job. I hear that you’ve done business with those that have needed the utmost discretion, and have gotten results.”

Jade’s inner radar had kicked in, his attention fully engaged, he recognized the old back-in business feeling. It began as a slight, nearly imperceptible tingle in the middle of his body, as if a clock had been set to ticking.

Your dialog comes across as a bit fake. I’m not sure what has caused it though. Things are not quite said right, probably a little too long winded. Dialog is a little more snappy.

More creepiness or something in the woman’s dialog would up the tension needed in the piece. The “I’m a woman who knows how to get what she wants” cliche just doesn’t cut it, in my opinion. At this point, you want the reader thinking “What is UP with this crazy woman calling?”

On the other hand, you did say it was rough. I didn’t have to struggle with the ideas, it was easy to read. You get your point across.

Keep Practicing and you’ll get there!

I don’t really know what kind of anti-hero Lindy is, but we can let her speak for herself. ——– “Today’s the day!” Tinder was grinning from ear to ear when Lindy opened the hostel door. “Our grand adventure. We’re going to save the town and bring settlers back to the North. It’s going to be a raging success, I can feel it!” Lindy rubbed the knuckles on her right hand absently. Tinder still bore the purplish blotch on his cheek from their row a few days ago. When Lindy had still insisted that she would return to her homestead alone and leave the colonies to their own fate. The scabs on her knuckles itched where the split skin threatened to open up again. “You’re not going to hit me again are you?” Tinder asked cheerfully eyeing her clenched fist. “If you keep grinning like that, I might. There’s no room for blind optimism out there. If you want to have a gleeful adventure, try the hologarden. We’ll be very lucky if we don’t freeze to death before we’ve reached the first outpost. And you better hope there’s fuel and shelter there. Nobody’s restocked the place in 10 years.” Lindy hoisted her pack onto her back and carried her heavy green parka over her arm. “Let’s get on with it.” A small crowd had gathered at the east gate. Tinder’s father handed him an oiled leather packet. “Pemmican, for the journey. Should keep you when everything else has frozen solid.” He handed a similar packet to Lindy, along with a second, smaller pouch. “Try not to lose my boy down a crevasse” he said. “No promises” Lindy said as she gingerly opened the pouch. It contained heavy twine made of horse hair, long cords made of sinew and an oiled length of catgut. “I know old Pete taught you how to trap, let’s hope you still remember some of it.” He rested a hand uneasily on her shoulder and gave it an awkward pat. She turned to Tinder to break the man’s touch and placed the pouch into the tall boy’s pack. The townspeople were quiet as they loaded their saviors down with gifts of fuel, provisions and tools. The headman presented Lindy with a map that looked more like it had been drawn for a child’s scavenger hunt. Their destination and the various outposts were scrawled on it with vague directional markers, landmarks and distances measured in ox legs. It wasn’t much to go on and more likely than not they would be blown off course by summer storms and never reach their destination. There were so many things that could go wrong. It was no wonder that, while everyone wished them well, no one spoke of their return. Hope had long deserted this settlement. It probably died just after her grandfather did, Lindy thought bitterly. Served them all right, sending their most valuable ally on a fool’s errand. Now it was Lindy’s turn to be sent off into the arctic night. Except no one here would mourn the loss of her skills. As for Tinder, the town already had a butcher and he would not long be needed once the herders’ dome collapsed entirely. Soon this town dome would empty and the people would go out and die in whatever way seemed best to them. Lindy and Tinder would have only one ox for their journey. Lindy’s own ox was left to the care of the herdmistress and a fresh one, Petri was gifted to them. Lindy preferred her own ox, but was relieved that her Snowball at least wouldn’t die on this foolish errand. “All right, let’s go.” Lindy donned her parka and mittens and fitted her goggles to her face. When Tinder was similarly bundled and masked, the townspeople retreated to the cafés. The east gate squealed in its tracks. The wide open air was before them. At least Lindy would be nearer to her Lights again. The first morning passed in silence. They took turns riding Petri and walking alongside her. On the ground, the large animal’s bulk blocked the majority of the wind. As the day grew old, both Tinder and Lindy walked on the leeward side of the ox, trying to regain the warmth in their hands and keep the sharp winds from biting the coddled dome skin around their masks. “How much further to the outpost?” Tinder asked. “Didn’t the map say three ox legs? We should have seen the first landmark a leg ago.” “I imagine the landmark is long gone, it was only a signpost or shack. Any number of storms could have ripped it down and buried it under snow by now.” They marched on, their eyes burning in the bright light of unfiltered sun on snow. As the sun met them direct in the eyes, Lindy knew they wouldn’t reach shelter by dark. “We have to make camp” she said. “Don’t argue” she said as Tinder opened his mouth. “If Petri freezes in the twilight cold, we won’t be saving any domes this lifetime.” She scanned the land around them for any geographic features that might block the wind and give their ox a respite from the cold. “There” she said, pointing at a strip of pale blue on the snow a hundred yards from them. “Looks like a mound or a hill or something, we can make camp next to it.” She strode off with lead rein in hand, not waiting for Tinder’s response. As they approached the strip of blue, she found it didn’t rise up from the snow as she had expected. It grew larger to be sure, but it should have blocked out the sky or something. At the very edge of it, Lindy stopped abruptly, and pushed Petri back. “It’s a hole!” she shouted to Tinder who had been looking at sky and landscape and snow. Everywhere but at his own feet where the crevasse yawned wide.

5 Types of Anti-Heroes, there’s something more to talk about this anymore.

Um, my anti-hero isn’t in this list? What do you call an anti-hero who is a complete screw-up in crisis and knows it, but can’t seem to stop doing hurtful things despite wanting to do the right thing, until he finally realizes the truth he needs to in order to live differently?

How are you? I had fun with the Prompt. *** A Road-Trip; 278 tunnels; seeing snow for the first time & learning to ski – on the spur of the moment.

I know all about road trips, good ones and bad ones, boring and exciting ones. Road trips in thirty-two US States, South Africa, France, Italy, Spain, Ballearic Islands, Jamaica, Bahamas, Switzerland, England, Scotland, Belgium, Luxembourg…

Our road trips are never planned. We don’t own a car because we own a boat. For road-trips we rent a car, dust off the worn map and go, wherever the road takes us. We love to drive on smaller roads and mostly they are not marked on the big scale maps that is why we argue a lot too, because we get lost al lot.

But we also have amazing experiences and seen amazing places. A few years ago, in March 2010, we were in Pretoria, South Africa and our son had two days to get to Viareggio in Italy for a job. Airline tickets booked and the morning of our flight they emailed us saying we can fly to London but no further because of airline personnel strikes. The brave or stupid or both, Storbecks made a plan. Landing at Heathrow we had 18 hours left to arrive in Italy. We rented a car at the airport. After much hassle because we needed one with an EU number plate, Avis had no road maps and no GPS for us either. Ok, we knew we had to drive south-east to the Mediterranean. On the A20 to the Euro Channel, arriving in Calais, France we followed signs south-east. Riems, Troyes, sleeping late that night somewhere near Chaumont in an motel. The next day we drove to Dijon, Geneva, through the Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, tunnel. An amazing tunnel, 18 miles in length. Arriving in Italy we drove like a bat out of hell to Genoa and arrived with a few hours to spare in Viareggio.

Tired, hungry and Peter very happy because the new job on a stunning super yacht, a dream come true. A few days later, knowing he was settled we made a quick detour in Tuscany, near the Italian Swiss border I saw Zermatt on the map. I remembered a friend said they go skiing there every year. That the Zermatt looked like those pictures you see on chocolate boxes. We are from South Africa and have never seen snow! ‘Let’s go skiing” we said, funny right? We drove to Zermatt, a resort below the Matterhorn, booked into a hotel, rented gear and an instructor and skied for 4 days.

That was the most fun I have ever had on any road trip. Snow…and more snow… hiking in snow, getting lost in the dark, on the mountain, following voices to town, sliding down a steep plowed slope on our behinds, it was to steep to walk. Then the trip back to the UK. All in all we drove 2700 miles in 14 days, through 278 tunnels.

My 15 minutes is up

It was the crack of dawn at Laguna Seca Speedway in the summer of 1988, the Sunday after a weekend concert. I had to be back in Portland Oregon for class on Monday morning. I was in grad school then and swore I would never miss another class for a Dead Show again. I hadn’t slept that night though everyone else in my friend’s converted school bus had managed to sleep. My shoes were somewhere under someone’s head. Did I dare wake them to say goodbye and look for my shoes? No. It was time to go; shoes be damned. I wrote a quick goodbye note with something about butterflies and headed for the freeway North. About fifteen minutes into the drive I saw a hitchhiker and picked him up. He lived not too much out of my way so I decided to drive him back to his house somewhere in Marin County. When we got to his house, I went in to use the bathroom and get a bite to eat. We sat on his living room floor and he cried in my arms because he could never see the Dead again; the memories were too painful. He and his wife had met at a show and she had just left him for another man. I held him; stroked his hair; gave him a bear hug and left on my journey, never to see or hear from him again. I then had twenty hours left to make a fifteen hour drive. No problem. However, my detour to his house got me off the highway and so I had to trek through the back roads of Northern California. Several hours later I came across another hitchhiker and picked him up. He was an older man, perhaps in his forties as I was in my twenties. When he got into the car he said, “Thanks for picking me up. I just got out of the hospital.” To which I immediately thought, “Oh no. Here’s the one I should never have stopped for. Here’s the serial killer I thought I’d never be unlucky enough to meet.” But it turned out someone rear-ended him and he had been in the hospital for a few days and when released he had no way to get home; his car had been totaled.

We talked of his family, his wife and Elvis. She named one son Elvis and the other Russell after Kurt Russell because he played Elvis in a movie once. I drove him home too; met the wife, and the two tributes to The King and off I went once again with now 15 hours to make a 12 hour drive. No problem. I turned on the radio in nowheresville and up popped Jerry singing Sugaree, a very good sign. All was well. I was the angel of hitchhiker-mercy endorsed by synchronicity. I passed through Marysville and as I passed the town limit sign, The Wind Cries Mary came on. I stopped to get gas. The wind did feel a bit moist as if washing us in light tears. I noticed on my map I was near Oroville and a commune one Deahead boyfriend from long had moved to: Con Cow. The gas attended gave me directions to the commune and I showed up asking around for Rich. I found him and the woman he’d left me for living in a dome next to a pond. We skinny-dipped and milked his goats. I cried in his arms at life in general. He said his dome often got people to cry. I gave Jezebel a bear hug and took him with me to Chico where he was spending the night with some friends. It was midnight when I dropped him off. I said hello to his friend’s drank some coffee and was off again. I had to be inclass at ten am. I drove all night not having slept in over 24 hours. I pulled into Lewis and Clark College at 10:05 and ran to class, barefoot, in a ripped hippie skirt. The class gave me a standing ovation.

The violent weather is treacherous on the tarmac tonight, a lonely deserted road in the desert accompanied by a raging storm lights up the night sky, lightning stretches & appears to crawl across the distant blackness. This weather doesn’t deter this type of man who’s brain is wired indifferent to most others of his own kind, with no thought of consequence of personal well being. A psychopathic assassin has no need for normal thought processes or common sense, out here alone in this situation he is right at home.

Speeding through the treacherous conditions the car is bombarded by dense rain where it appears nails are tearing through the sky to bombard this crazy’s man vehicle.

This black hot rod engine wanes and punches through the weather wanting more.

Finally our killer known as Magnolia reaches an intersection, the hot rod screams to a halt, this moment will be used to light up a cigarette. As He lights his smoke he see’s a wolf pounce onto a nearby rock on the side of the road. The headlights shine in the wolfs eyes. Magnolia gazes at the wolf when he begins to show his teeth and snarl at the car in confusion. Magnolia smiles and nods to the wolf to deliver fellow acknowledgement between predators.

The hot rod suddenly speeds off and the road trip is underway again, there is not a lot of distance left to cover to reach this designated city of black smoke and hatred.

An industrial erected man made monstrosity of abandoned structures have now become canvases for the local kids to characterize and graffiti. The sun is powerless to beings there.

The car speeds on and on, in the revision mirror Magnolia sees red and blue lights closing in on his position. he slows down to enable these highway patrol pawns to get closer to the hot rod, that is just what Magnolia wants.

The Police car eventually pulls alongside the perused car of Magnolias, The Police pa instructs the hot rod to pull to the side of the road as Magnolia increases his speed, The passenger highway cop draws his gun and flashes it out the window as a warning, Magnolia begins to also wind down his window. when the officer flashes a torch to see the suspects face, he sees a pale white scared face accompanied with slick long black hair.

Magnolia begins to slow the chase right down, enough so he can draw his silver plated pistol and shoot the back passenger window, he appears to miss the squad drivers but this is part of his plan. The car speeds back up, the cops pull alongside to shine a light on Magnolia to fix a target to shoot, as the light shines on Magnolia they spot his yellowing teeth grip and pull out two pins of a couple of grenades, he then tosses them in the back seat through the shot window of the police car, One officer frantically turns around to collect and discard the grenades when he is stopped by the prisoners back seat protection grill, the grenades are trapped bouncing around on the seat.

The police car pulls over but it is too late, the car explodes and it is all over.

Magnolia turn around to pull over and marvel at this event, he exits his car and smiles and approaches the car, he rubs his hands together and lights up a smoke using the burnt out wreckage.

He turns and faces what remains of the open road, in the distance he sees the city lights

It is not long to go now until this road trip is at an end and Magnolia is home.

By Luke Stanley [email protected]

Roadtrips. Truth be told, I’ve never had a memorable one. Well I have few images of a roadtrip I once had one with my family, but seeing as I was about five years old, I don’t remember it in details. I only know that that day was memorable, even if I did forget most of it. I just remember us being happy, my family and I. It was one of the last times we were all in one car. And that’s why I plan on going on plenty of roadtrips as soon as I’m old enough to drive. Not with anyone. With the people I love. We would listen to good music, take pictures, walk in old markets, watch the sunrise, have heart-to-heart conversations, and simply pour our hearts out and soak up all the beauty in this world. I know this idea of a perfect roadtrip is a bit utopian, but the slightest prospect of having such a roadtrip makes my heart flutter and fills me up with hope. The possibility that, in time of hardships, a simple car trip with a true friend might renew my vision of life and love, makes me have a hopeful look on the future. So, to me, a roadtrip is more than just a long car ride. It’s a ride towards a new perspective. It’s a way to show me the good in the world when I’ve lost sight. I truly hope I won’t be not disappointed when I actually go on a roadtrip. I’m almost sure that i won’t be, because I am confident in the faithfulness of my friends, no matter how little I’ve experienced.

The move from California to Texas was both exhilarating and terrifying. I used to think that there would be no new adventures for me as I aged. After all I was a part of the generation that loudly proclaimed “Trust no on over 30.” That of course changed as the years flew past and 30 something became the new 20 and 60 the new 40 and so on and so on. Will death become the new life? Numerical options become somewhat limited at this point in the game. I honestly have no answers but I have made a deal with myself to stop counting and just be present for this chapter of my life. The only thing I’m currently certain about is that at this point anything other than living each day to it’s fullest and on my own terms is a waste of precious time. With that in mind each day becomes it’s own new adventure.

The icy winds blew in through the windows, the frozen path straining on the car. A heavy mist had surrounded us and my vision was restricted to just the front of the vehicle. I heard Mal and An shivering and comforting each other as I tried to plow ahead. Heather was rubbing her hands together, an attempt to keep the escaping heat in her body. She kept trying to toy with the heating systems but everything had broken down an hour ago.

I cursed myself for plunging my family into this disaster, all holiday plans melting away. I had promised them an adventurous get-away but had never fathomed it turning into this.

Heather was holding on to my arm and tried to soothe me. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she looked up at me. Someone was coming behind us and we all knew that they could be our saving grace.

I clambered out of the car, making sure to buckle myself up, ready to brace the chills. My feet; having made contact with the snow-laiden road; froze instantly and my voice struggled to escape my throat. I signalled for the driver to stop and come to our assisstance but, to my utmost panic, the car never stopped. The jet black Jeep just speeded past me and left me stranded. I was lost in thought, as to why I wasn’t offered any help when the loud honk of a horn woke me up. Heather was staring up at me and gave me a confused and questioning glance, mirroring my expression.

I peered into the fog, hoping for anyone to come but I was just greeted by a silvery haze and an increasingly cold and fast wind threatening to trap us in a whirlwind of disasters. The only thing I could do was wait…This was turning out to be a never-ending road trip for us all!

No mountains, no lakes, no greenery, no waterfall…no beautiful brook is flowing parallel to the road in which I am travelling….so what you think .. I am in a monotonous journey you do not long for…. The dust clearly strewn visible in black bituminous road crossing which appears to be a eternity.My black Scorpio has turned white due to patches. I am in a stretch surrounded by large dunes of sand on two sides… I cannot add .#beautiful# adjective to these dunes, they are dry and nothing else and I have turned drier. I occasionally wet my lips with tounges lubricating the cracks… Casting my eyes sideways I find a herd of camels traversing the desert in peace somewhere near the horizon … I am calm too but not in peace, for my senses which are not used to this silence start keeping me busy with distractions of past and future , worries and griefs maybe this is the most rewarding time for introspection.. Yes THAR triggers the philosophical side of me…… When I had planned this trip , I had mentally imagined this scene quite numerous times but this was catalyzed by the traditional tune of KESARIYA BALAM AAVO JI MAARHE DESH…..( you are welcome to my country … The grace of lord may bequeath upon you) … But now in this very moment I am feeling so much thirsty that the depression ahead of me which appears to be filled with water makes me joyous only to make me sad when I reach there ..all my water bottles have drained and so the knowledge of miraje which I has read in my science books…………

The best type of road trip is one where I am not driving. When I get to look out the window and allow my mind to paint over the vast expanse of the land around me. Boy, do I love the days where I can make up catchy song-lyrics in my head, pretending that I can play an instrument, while the car speeds along the highway at ten miles-per-hour over the speed limit. Those are the days that I can devote to doing nothing, answering to nobody, and still see everything. I can see the earth itself, polka-dotted with trees, cars and uniform houses. I can see the occasional hitch-hiker as we tumble past him, the thought never crossing our minds to pick him up. I see the world as it is, a bastion of infinite artistry. I can visualize the creation of something far greater than myself, the colors that humans have forged. And from the cars we pass and those that pass us, I can see their hues and I can rest assured that each one is inherently unique, each one portrays a new gradient. Because of these observations, my mind can rest easy, letting the car hurl me forward into a flurry of colors. Sometimes though, when the sun becomes consumed by mountains and the radiance of the daytime becomes nothing more than a muddled shadow, I start to think of myself. I don’t like it when I think of myself. It starts with the faces. Always the faces. Faces of people whose voices I refuse to recall because they are faces of people whom I have deemed unworthy of my time, my dreams, or my thoughts. And while they have never done anything to deserve my condemnation, I have still chosen to shun them. Then come those who have wronged me, people whose hearts I have invested my own in and yet they chose to do the same thing to me that I have done to others. They chose condemnation over recognition. I hate them for it, and if I hate them for their ugliness, then others must hate me in the same way. The only color I see now in the evening light is not a color at all, it’s more like a feeling. It cannot be explained, our language does not denote the existence of this color; it simply is. I peer into the side-view mirror from the backseat of the car, the sun almost finished banishing itself into the abyss of western mountains, and I can no longer see myself. All I see is the ever-elusive color, and a crowd of faces in front of mine.

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WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®

Helping writers become bestselling authors

Setting Description Entry: Forest

August 23, 2008 by BECCA PUGLISI

green, brown, dead fall, fallen trees, logs, branches, twigs, fallen leaves, ferns, underbrush, moss, brambles, thickets, ivy, berry bushes, pine needles, pine cones, acorns, insects, rabbits, birds, squirrels, lizards, mice, foxes, spider webs, deer, sun-dappled, shady, shafts…

Sounds branches creaking, feet shuffling through detritus, squirrels chattering, leaves rustling, wind whistling around trunks/disturbing the leaves, birds singing, insects humming/ churring, rustle of animals rooting in underbrush, scrabbling of lizards on tree bark, limbs..

Smells tree smells (pine, etc), wildflowers, earthy smell, animal scents, rotting wood, fresh, stale, dry, damp, wet, scents on the wind from nearby places (water, wood smoke, ocean), wild mint/herbs, decay (bogs, stagnant pools of water, dead animals), skunks, skunk weed…

Tastes earthy air, sweet/sour berries, nuts, mushrooms, wild onions, seeds, bitter, mint, gritty, mealy, meaty, relish, savor, sample, salty, acidic, sweet, flavorful, sour, tart, flavorless, swallow, mild, nutty, relish…

Touch rough tree bark, kiss of falling leaves, branches slapping, uneven ground, knobby roots underfoot, sticky sap, underbrush that tangles/grabs, prickle of briars, slick leaves, twigs snagging at hair/scratching face, tickle of hanging moss, spider web strands on skin, soft…

Helpful hints:

–The words you choose can convey atmosphere and mood.

Example 1: I lifted my face, letting the light and shadow dance across my skin. Bees hummed in and out of the pennyroyal. I inhaled its minty smell and continued on, delighting in the sound of my feet sliding through the leaves.

–Similes and metaphors create strong imagery when used sparingly.

Example 1: (Simile) The trees lashed and crashed against each other like drum sticks in the hands of a giant…

Does your setting take place at night? Check out this similar Entry: WOODS AT NIGHT

Think beyond what a character sees, and provide a sensory feast for readers

Setting is much more than just a backdrop, which is why choosing the right one and describing it well is so important. To help with this, we have expanded and integrated this thesaurus into our online library at One Stop For Writers . Each entry has been enhanced to include possible sources of conflict , people commonly found in these locales , and setting-specific notes and tips , and the collection itself has been augmented to include a whopping 230 entries—all of which have been cross-referenced with our other thesauruses for easy searchability. So if you’re interested in seeing a free sample of this powerful Setting Thesaurus, head on over and register at One Stop.

On the other hand, if you prefer your references in book form, we’ve got you covered, too, because both books are now available for purchase in digital and print copies . In addition to the entries, each book contains instructional front matter to help you maximize your settings. With advice on topics like making your setting do double duty and using figurative language to bring them to life, these books offer ample information to help you maximize your settings and write them effectively.

Becca Puglisi is an international speaker, writing coach, and bestselling author of The Emotion Thesaurus and its sequels. Her books are available in five languages, are sourced by US universities, and are used by novelists, screenwriters, editors, and psychologists around the world. She is passionate about learning and sharing her knowledge with others through her Writers Helping Writers blog and via One Stop For Writers —a powerhouse online library created to help writers elevate their storytelling.

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Reader Interactions

October 11, 2021 at 6:06 am

That helped me a lot!

October 7, 2021 at 2:08 pm

I love descriptive writing but can you help me to write a forest setting description?

February 26, 2021 at 10:01 am

Thank you for this great help…☺️☺️

February 23, 2021 at 4:37 am

Thanks this helped a lot!

January 19, 2021 at 1:39 am

Lovely book, It helped me a lot thanks

August 19, 2020 at 10:54 pm

Are you lovely ladies planning to put these descriptions into an ebook? I’m enjoying all seven of your thesaurus books.

August 20, 2020 at 8:13 am

Hi, Michelle! I’m so glad you’re enjoying our books. Are you asking when the setting thesaurus is going to be turned into a book? If so, you’ll be happy to know that those books are published and available. You can find ebook information on our Bookstore page. https://writershelpingwriters.net/bookstore/

If you have other questions or need to clarify anything, just let us know!

July 13, 2020 at 8:35 pm

OMG! This is powerful. God bless you richly. Please ma, can you help me to proofread my short fiction. I’m begging in the name of God. I have written a short fiction, but no one to help me to proofread it. [email protected] . Thanks in anticipation.

July 14, 2020 at 10:44 am

Sorry, we are unable to do that, but if you join a writing group or have a good critique partner, they should be able to help you. Good luck and all the best. 🙂

May 21, 2020 at 4:59 pm

amazing thankyou so much 🙂

March 11, 2020 at 3:19 pm

thanks! these will help a lot with the forested settings in my book series: the elemental masters.

June 26, 2020 at 5:42 am

Oh wow, your books are absolutely amazing. I’ve read all of them

March 9, 2020 at 1:50 am

Thank you for this, however, could you also do the same setting description based on the setting of a beach? That would be extremely helpful for me. THank yoU!

March 7, 2020 at 10:28 pm

Hi, this is extremely helpful, but could you make another setting description, the same as this one, except about a beach scene? That would be super helpful for me. Thanks!

March 8, 2020 at 1:56 pm

Hi, Stacey! We actually do have a Beach entry. You can find it here: https://writershelpingwriters.net/2008/09/setting-thesaurus-entry-beach/ . And our TOC also contains a list of the entries you can find here: https://writershelpingwriters.net/occupation-thesaurus/

But if you’re looking for settings that we don’t have, you might consider checking out our website, One Stop for Writers. All of our thesaurus collection are there, and most of them have been expanded to include additional entries. For instance, here is the complete list of setting entries you can find at One Stop: https://onestopforwriters.com/scene_settings

Best of luck to you!

March 9, 2020 at 5:47 am

Thank you so much Becca, i just really appreciate it, i love the websites you gave me and it is simply WONDERFUL!!!

March 6, 2020 at 3:12 am

This is wonderful, thank you! Very helpful!

October 24, 2019 at 6:10 am

IT FANTASTIC

January 1, 2019 at 7:15 pm

this really helped me. thank you lol 🙂

July 12, 2017 at 1:21 pm

I am helping a friend open a bar in a small town…the lifestyle here is of the following: Fishing, boating on our two rivers….Wabash and Tippecanoe and hunting deer. Cannot come up with a name to incorporate both of the passions our customers would enjoy. I have gone to your description setting entry for ideas…but just can not gel together this duo!!! Help?

July 12, 2017 at 8:00 pm

Hi, Patti. I’m sorry, but I’m not clear on what you’re after. Are you looking for help coming up with a name for a fictional town?

October 5, 2014 at 2:41 am

THANKS VERY MUCH FOR SUCH A WONDERFUL WORK. MY DAUGHTER WILL HAVE A GOOD RESOURCE OF DESCRIBING WORDS.

February 29, 2012 at 1:40 pm

Thank you so much for this! I have been struggling with my forest scenes for the longest time, stuck on the same small handful of descriptors–this is brilliant. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

May 1, 2011 at 4:48 pm

Thank you very much for these amazing words! keep the work up!

March 7, 2011 at 7:54 am

Thank you so much. These beautiful words makes picturing a scene extremely easy.

February 1, 2011 at 2:13 pm

I absaloutly loved thease words i really needed them to help me get my English paper to life

January 25, 2011 at 6:47 am

It’s a great Help for me. I was looking for such post that could give some interesting wording to describe a greenery and forest scene.

Thank you very much 🙂

April 7, 2010 at 6:13 am

I showed my teacher and she said you rocked. Thank you 🙂

March 26, 2010 at 2:52 pm

Great help for my book! Thank you!

December 13, 2009 at 12:30 pm

Thanks. Great Guide for a descriptive piece of writing A*

December 11, 2009 at 12:26 am

Creatively helpful , specially to beginning writers like me. Thanks for this web.

October 2, 2009 at 10:38 am

very helpful thanxx cood u include more sentance exxampils thanx that wood be helpful! miss m

September 23, 2009 at 11:35 am

April 21, 2009 at 8:29 pm

I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!! Just what I am writing about!!! THANKS!!!!!!!

August 24, 2008 at 1:17 pm

Thanks for the kind words. When Angela and I started this blog, one of our main goals was to keep it relevant to writers. Glad to know we’re doing alright on that front :).

August 24, 2008 at 12:07 pm

This is fabulous!! I love it!

August 23, 2008 at 8:02 pm

Angela and Becca, you one-hit wonders, you’ve done it again! You’re very good at relating to the reader (and making it easy on the writer).

August 23, 2008 at 5:51 pm

Great job. And I really like the drumsticks simile.

August 23, 2008 at 10:45 am

So perfect! Thanks! I love the simile and metaphor section!

[…] Forest […]

[…] is a forest entry already, but I think that at night the woods can be an entirely different setting, full of mystery […]

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Writing Tips Oasis - A website dedicated to helping writers to write and publish books.

How to Describe a Motorcycle in a Story

By Rebecca Parpworth-Reynolds

If you’re looking for ways to describe motorbikes in your novel, this post is for you. Below we present 10 words you can use. To learn about these words and how to describe a motorcycle in story, read on!

Able to move quickly and easily.

“The agile motorcycle moved through the narrow alleyways with ease, leaving the cop cars unable to follow.”

“Although it was hell to wear his leathers in the summer months, he still would not give up his agile motorcycle as it was the best way to get around the congested city streets.”

How it Adds Description

Using the word “agile” to describe a motorcycle helps to highlight the way in which it is able to move with ease, especially in areas where it might be tricky for other vehicles to do so. This can make other vehicles like cars and trucks look clumsy in comparison, and could be used as a metaphor for the quick-thinking personality of the motorcycle rider compared to others.

2. Dangerous

With the potential to cause harm or death.

“She had always warned him about that dangerous motorcycle, and she was sick with worry whenever he went for a nighttime ride. However, nothing prepared her for the knock at the door and the policeman standing there.”

“Although it is most riders’ dream race, the perilous roads of the Isle of Man TT and the dangerous nature of high-speed motorcycles make it a deadly sporting event.”

Describing a motorcycle as “dangerous” shows your reader how it is a perilous mode of transport. This can then help them to feel invested in the characters riding them, hoping that they make it safely through your story. Not only that, but characters who may see motorcycles as dangerous could be more cautious, and others who ride them would appear more daring in comparison.

3. Deafening

Extremely loud.

“The deafening roar of the motorcycles on the starting line made them appear like feral beasts waiting to break free of their chains and start racing.”

“The serene quiet of the small village was shattered by the deafening motorcycles that streaked their way down the small country roads.”

Instead of just describing a motorcycle as being loud, try referring to it as being “deafening” instead! This helps to illustrate that not only does its engine have a loud sound, but it dominates the landscape or setting that it is in. In this way, it might be used as a threat or an intimidation tactic by its rider towards other characters in your story, leaving them no room to speak or perhaps even think because of the noise!

4. Exciting

Making someone feel excited .

“The exciting look of the bright red motorcycle got his heart pumping. He couldn’t wait to take it for a test drive.”

“There was nothing more exciting than driving her motorcycle to the limit and feeling at one with the machine.”

Describing a motorcycle as “exciting” conveys its thrilling and exhilarating nature. Motorcycles often evoke a sense of adventure, speed, and freedom, which could make them irresistible to some of the characters in your story. This description can also be used to highlight the emotional and sensory experience of riding a motorcycle, showcasing it as an adrenaline-fuelled activity.

• Strong and powerful.
• Frightening.
• Showing strong feelings or activity.

“The motorcycle was like a fierce beast, threatening to break free from under his control at each and every corner.”

“The intimidating rumble of the idling engine and the dark black paint job on the chassis let everyone know that her motorcycle would be one fierce opponent on the racetrack.”

Employing the term “fierce” to describe a motorcycle helps to impart a sense of intensity, power, and aggression. This description may be used to emphasize the raw and unbridled energy that certain motorcycles possess. Alongside this, it helps to illustrate the intimidating noise and appearance of the motorcycle, to show the reader and your characters that it is not to be trifled with.

6. Growling

Making a long, low, and threatening sound .

“The growling of the motorcycles was almost as frightening as the gang themselves.”

“Although many saw the man’s motorcycle as a growling menace of the roads, to him the machine was more of a purring pussycat.”

“Growling” as a word used to describe a motorcycle in your story serves to personify the vehicle and its sound. It helps to paint the picture of the motorcycle being more like a beast or an animal, which can help to ramp up the tension in parts of your story where it makes an appearance.

7. Powerful

Having a large amount of strength and force.

“The powerful motorcycle roared to life, its thunderous engine echoing across the open road as it effortlessly devoured the miles ahead.”

“The powerful speed and acceleration of the motorcycle took him by surprise; it was one thing riding his moped, but it was like comparing a donkey to a thoroughbred.”

Using “powerful” to describe a motorcycle can not only illustrate the sheer speed and horsepower it possesses but also the way that it employs it. It gives the impression that characters that have mastered the art of riding it are incredibly skilled, inspiring awe in other characters and your reader.

Quick and sudden.

“The rapid motorcycle effortlessly sliced through the traffic, making it a force to be reckoned with on the urban streets.”

“With a twist of the throttle, the rapid motorcycle shot forward like a bullet.”

Rather than just using the word “quick” to describe a motorcycle, the word “rapid” will have a lot more impact. Not only does it demonstrate its speed, but also its ability to accelerate in a flash, something that can add pace to your story and leave characters feeling exhilarated and excited after riding it.

Smooth and shiny, fitting closely.

“The sleek and formidable motorcycle’s acceleration was like a lightning bolt, leaving a trail of awe and envy in its wake.”

“The sleek motorcycle gleamed under the sunlight, its aerodynamic design and polished chrome accents turning heads as it glided down the coastal highway.”

The word “sleek” when used to describe a motorcycle can work twofold. It not only helps to highlight the physical appearance and attractiveness of the motorcycle’s chassis but also emphasizes the speed and grace that it exhibits on the road. A “sleek” motorcycle could be a source of envy for characters with less desirable rides!

Able to move at a very fast speed .

“The swift motorcycle darted through the winding mountain roads with grace and precision, a testament to its remarkable speed and handling.”

“The swift motorcycle effortlessly outpaced the competition, its roaring engine and streamlined frame a symphony of power and agility on the racetrack.”

Describing a motorcycle as being “swift” demonstrates its speed. It can also serve to show the skill of its rider and the fact that they are able to take it to such velocity with ease. “Swift” also implies a sense of lightness, showcasing the agility of the vehicle compared to others in your story.

What Is Creative Writing? (Ultimate Guide + 20 Examples)

Creative writing begins with a blank page and the courage to fill it with the stories only you can tell.

I face this intimidating blank page daily–and I have for the better part of 20+ years.

In this guide, you’ll learn all the ins and outs of creative writing with tons of examples.

What Is Creative Writing (Long Description)?

Creative Writing is the art of using words to express ideas and emotions in imaginative ways. It encompasses various forms including novels, poetry, and plays, focusing on narrative craft, character development, and the use of literary tropes.

Table of Contents

Let’s expand on that definition a bit.

Creative writing is an art form that transcends traditional literature boundaries.

It includes professional, journalistic, academic, and technical writing. This type of writing emphasizes narrative craft, character development, and literary tropes. It also explores poetry and poetics traditions.

In essence, creative writing lets you express ideas and emotions uniquely and imaginatively.

It’s about the freedom to invent worlds, characters, and stories. These creations evoke a spectrum of emotions in readers.

Creative writing covers fiction, poetry, and everything in between.

It allows writers to express inner thoughts and feelings. Often, it reflects human experiences through a fabricated lens.

Types of Creative Writing

There are many types of creative writing that we need to explain.

Some of the most common types:

• Short stories
• Screenplays
• Flash fiction
• Creative Nonfiction

Short Stories (The Brief Escape)

Short stories are like narrative treasures.

They are compact but impactful, telling a full story within a limited word count. These tales often focus on a single character or a crucial moment.

Short stories are known for their brevity.

They deliver emotion and insight in a concise yet powerful package. This format is ideal for exploring diverse genres, themes, and characters. It leaves a lasting impression on readers.

Example: Emma discovers an old photo of her smiling grandmother. It’s a rarity. Through flashbacks, Emma learns about her grandmother’s wartime love story. She comes to understand her grandmother’s resilience and the value of joy.

Novels (The Long Journey)

Novels are extensive explorations of character, plot, and setting.

They span thousands of words, giving writers the space to create entire worlds. Novels can weave complex stories across various themes and timelines.

The length of a novel allows for deep narrative and character development.

Readers get an immersive experience.

Example: Across the Divide tells of two siblings separated in childhood. They grow up in different cultures. Their reunion highlights the strength of family bonds, despite distance and differences.

Poetry (The Soul’s Language)

Poetry expresses ideas and emotions through rhythm, sound, and word beauty.

It distills emotions and thoughts into verses. Poetry often uses metaphors, similes, and figurative language to reach the reader’s heart and mind.

Poetry ranges from structured forms, like sonnets, to free verse.

The latter breaks away from traditional formats for more expressive thought.

Example: Whispers of Dawn is a poem collection capturing morning’s quiet moments. “First Light” personifies dawn as a painter. It brings colors of hope and renewal to the world.

Plays (The Dramatic Dialogue)

Plays are meant for performance. They bring characters and conflicts to life through dialogue and action.

This format uniquely explores human relationships and societal issues.

Playwrights face the challenge of conveying setting, emotion, and plot through dialogue and directions.

Example: Echoes of Tomorrow is set in a dystopian future. Memories can be bought and sold. It follows siblings on a quest to retrieve their stolen memories. They learn the cost of living in a world where the past has a price.

Screenplays (Cinema’s Blueprint)

Screenplays outline narratives for films and TV shows.

They require an understanding of visual storytelling, pacing, and dialogue. Screenplays must fit film production constraints.

Example: The Last Light is a screenplay for a sci-fi film. Humanity’s survivors on a dying Earth seek a new planet. The story focuses on spacecraft Argo’s crew as they face mission challenges and internal dynamics.

Memoirs (The Personal Journey)

Memoirs provide insight into an author’s life, focusing on personal experiences and emotional journeys.

They differ from autobiographies by concentrating on specific themes or events.

Memoirs invite readers into the author’s world.

They share lessons learned and hardships overcome.

Example: Under the Mango Tree is a memoir by Maria Gomez. It shares her childhood memories in rural Colombia. The mango tree in their yard symbolizes home, growth, and nostalgia. Maria reflects on her journey to a new life in America.

Flash Fiction (The Quick Twist)

Flash fiction tells stories in under 1,000 words.

It’s about crafting compelling narratives concisely. Each word in flash fiction must count, often leading to a twist.

This format captures life’s vivid moments, delivering quick, impactful insights.

Example: The Last Message features an astronaut’s final Earth message as her spacecraft drifts away. In 500 words, it explores isolation, hope, and the desire to connect against all odds.

Creative Nonfiction (The Factual Tale)

Creative nonfiction combines factual accuracy with creative storytelling.

This genre covers real events, people, and places with a twist. It uses descriptive language and narrative arcs to make true stories engaging.

Creative nonfiction includes biographies, essays, and travelogues.

Example: Echoes of Everest follows the author’s Mount Everest climb. It mixes factual details with personal reflections and the history of past climbers. The narrative captures the climb’s beauty and challenges, offering an immersive experience.

Fantasy (The World Beyond)

Fantasy transports readers to magical and mythical worlds.

It explores themes like good vs. evil and heroism in unreal settings. Fantasy requires careful world-building to create believable yet fantastic realms.

Example: The Crystal of Azmar tells of a young girl destined to save her world from darkness. She learns she’s the last sorceress in a forgotten lineage. Her journey involves mastering powers, forming alliances, and uncovering ancient kingdom myths.

Science Fiction (The Future Imagined)

Science fiction delves into futuristic and scientific themes.

It questions the impact of advancements on society and individuals.

Science fiction ranges from speculative to hard sci-fi, focusing on plausible futures.

Example: When the Stars Whisper is set in a future where humanity communicates with distant galaxies. It centers on a scientist who finds an alien message. This discovery prompts a deep look at humanity’s universe role and interstellar communication.

Watch this great video that explores the question, “What is creative writing?” and “How to get started?”:

What Are the 5 Cs of Creative Writing?

The 5 Cs of creative writing are fundamental pillars.

They guide writers to produce compelling and impactful work. These principles—Clarity, Coherence, Conciseness, Creativity, and Consistency—help craft stories that engage and entertain.

They also resonate deeply with readers. Let’s explore each of these critical components.

Clarity makes your writing understandable and accessible.

It involves choosing the right words and constructing clear sentences. Your narrative should be easy to follow.

In creative writing, clarity means conveying complex ideas in a digestible and enjoyable way.

Coherence ensures your writing flows logically.

It’s crucial for maintaining the reader’s interest. Characters should develop believably, and plots should progress logically. This makes the narrative feel cohesive.

Conciseness

Conciseness is about expressing ideas succinctly.

It’s being economical with words and avoiding redundancy. This principle helps maintain pace and tension, engaging readers throughout the story.

Creativity is the heart of creative writing.

It allows writers to invent new worlds and create memorable characters. Creativity involves originality and imagination. It’s seeing the world in unique ways and sharing that vision.

Consistency

Consistency maintains a uniform tone, style, and voice.

It means being faithful to the world you’ve created. Characters should act true to their development. This builds trust with readers, making your story immersive and believable.

Is Creative Writing Easy?

Creative writing is both rewarding and challenging.

Crafting stories from your imagination involves more than just words on a page. It requires discipline and a deep understanding of language and narrative structure.

Exploring complex characters and themes is also key.

Refining and revising your work is crucial for developing your voice.

The ease of creative writing varies. Some find the freedom of expression liberating.

Others struggle with writer’s block or plot development challenges. However, practice and feedback make creative writing more fulfilling.

What Does a Creative Writer Do?

A creative writer weaves narratives that entertain, enlighten, and inspire.

Writers explore both the world they create and the emotions they wish to evoke. Their tasks are diverse, involving more than just writing.

Creative writers develop ideas, research, and plan their stories.

They create characters and outline plots with attention to detail. Drafting and revising their work is a significant part of their process. They strive for the 5 Cs of compelling writing.

Writers engage with the literary community, seeking feedback and participating in workshops.

They may navigate the publishing world with agents and editors.

Creative writers are storytellers, craftsmen, and artists. They bring narratives to life, enriching our lives and expanding our imaginations.

How to Get Started With Creative Writing?

Embarking on a creative writing journey can feel like standing at the edge of a vast and mysterious forest.

The path is not always clear, but the adventure is calling.

Here’s how to take your first steps into the world of creative writing:

• Find a time of day when your mind is most alert and creative.
• Create a comfortable writing space free from distractions.
• Use prompts to spark your imagination. They can be as simple as a word, a phrase, or an image.
• Try writing for 15-20 minutes on a prompt without editing yourself. Let the ideas flow freely.
• Reading is fuel for your writing. Explore various genres and styles.
• Pay attention to how your favorite authors construct their sentences, develop characters, and build their worlds.
• Don’t pressure yourself to write a novel right away. Begin with short stories or poems.
• Small projects can help you hone your skills and boost your confidence.
• Look for writing groups in your area or online. These communities offer support, feedback, and motivation.
• Participating in workshops or classes can also provide valuable insights into your writing.
• Understand that your first draft is just the beginning. Revising your work is where the real magic happens.
• Be open to feedback and willing to rework your pieces.
• Carry a notebook or digital recorder to jot down ideas, observations, and snippets of conversations.
• These notes can be gold mines for future writing projects.

Final Thoughts: What Is Creative Writing?

Creative writing is an invitation to explore the unknown, to give voice to the silenced, and to celebrate the human spirit in all its forms.

Check out these creative writing tools (that I highly recommend):

Read This Next:

• What Is a Prompt in Writing? (Ultimate Guide + 200 Examples)
• What Is A Personal Account In Writing? (47 Examples)
• How To Write A Fantasy Short Story (Ultimate Guide + Examples)
• How To Write A Fantasy Romance Novel [21 Tips + Examples)

Tim Kane Books

Strange is the new normal, how to write creepy scenes to make your readers squirm.

Most writers who delve into horror hit the prose with a bag of clichés and heavy handed stage props—swirling fog, glowing eyes, wicked laughs. Don’t get me wrong, camp can be great (if it’s intentional). However, a more subtle approach can work wonders.

Add Details One by One

Use disturbing details or reversals when describing your scenes. Each one, taken by itself, does little, but in combination, they imbue the reader with unease. Consider Cold Skin by Albert Sánchez Piñol. Here an unnamed narrator just inhabited a weather station on a deserted island.

Just then, I heard a pleasing sound far off. It was more or less like a heard of goats trotting in the distance. At first, I confused it with the pattering of rain; the sound of heavy and distinct drops. I got up and looked out of the closest window. It wasn’t raining. The full moon stained the ocean’s surface in a violet hue. The light bathed the driftwood lying on the beach. It was easy to imagine them as body parts, dismembered and immobile. The whole thing brought to mind a petrified forest. But it wasn’t raining.

Reversal : The narrator thinks it’s raining, but then there’s no rain. We wonder what’s creating that pattering sound, and the not knowing makes us uneasy.

Disturbing details : The water is stained violet, a bloodlike color. This idea is cemented in the reader’s skull with the driftwood, described as dismembered limbs.

Let the Character Freak Out

Nothing creeps out a reader faster than letting the protagonist freak out. Ever wonder why there are so many screams in horror movies? It’s the same thing. As an author, you must find the written equivalent to the scream.

In Bag of Bones by Stephen King, the protagonist, Mike Noonan, begins to believe that his house is haunted. He’s in the basement and hears the sound of someone striking the insulation, but no one else is home.

…every gut and muscle of my body seemed to come unwound. My hair stood up. My eyesockets seemed to be expanding and my eyeballs contracting, as if  my head were trying to turn into a skull. Every inch of my skin broke out in gooseflesh. Something was in here with me. Very likely something dead.

King lays it on thick here. Instead of one physical reaction, he dumps the whole bucket on us. He doesn’t dazzle us with a etherial decaying corpse. We won’t even see the ghost till the final chapters. No. He tells us how Noonan feels just in the presence of the thing and that’s what creeps us out.

Another example of the character freaking out can be seen in Shirley Jackson’s  The Haunting of Hill House .

Now we are going to have a new noise, Eleanor thought, listening to the inside of her head; it is changing.  The pounding had stopped, as though it had proved ineffectual, and there was now a swift movement up and down the hall, as of an animal pacing back and forth with unbelievable impatience, watching first one door and then another, alert for a movement inside, and there was again the little babbling murmur which Eleanor remembered; Am I doing it? she wondered quickly, is that me? And heard the tiny laughter beyond the door, mocking her.

Here the character doubts herself and what she sees. This is essential to any horror story. When weird things happen, the character mysteries react accordingly. The stranger the situation, the stronger the reaction. And most of us would doubt our sanity in creepy situations.

Let The Reader Do the Imagining

Why should you, the author, do all the heavy lifting. Your reader’s imagination will often fill in the blanks for you. Take this example from Stephen King’s The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon .

As she reached the driver’s door of the cab, which hung open with vines twisting in and out of its socket of a window, lightning flashed again, painting the whole world purple. In its glare Trisha saw something with slumped shoulders standing on the far side of the road, something with black eyes and great cocked ears like horns. Perhaps they were horns. It wasn’t human; nor did she think it was animal. It was a god. It was her god, the wasp-god, standing there in the rain.

Notice that the monster is only vaguely described. It’s called “something” twice. This lets the reader fill in the blanks. There is enough description that we at least know it’s a big hulking creature. This is the literary equivalent of when Ridley Scott only showed glimpses of the alien in Alien .

Use Strong Verbs

Finally, strong verbs will help any writer to shine, but they can also allow one character to shine over another. Take this excerpt from William Blatty’s The Exorcist .

Regan’s eyes gleamed fiercely, unblinking, as a yellowish saliva dribbled down from a corner of her mouth to her chin, to her lips stretch taut into a feral grin of bow-mouthed mockery.

“Well, well, well,” she gloated sardonically and hairs prickled up on the back of Karras’s neck at a voice that was deep and thick with menace and power. “So, it’s you … they sent  you !” she continued as if pleased. “Well, we’ve nothing to fear from you at all.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Karras answered; “I’m your friend and I’d like to help you.”

“You might loosen these straps, then,” Regan croaked. She had tugged up her wrists so that now Karras noticed they were bound with a double set of leather restraining straps.

“Are the straps uncomfortable for you?”

“Extremely. They’re a nuisance. An  infernal  nuisance.”

The eyes glinted slyly with secret amusement.

Karras saw the scratch marks on Regan’s face; the cuts on her lips where apparently she’d bitten them. “I’m afraid you might hurt yourself, Regan,” he told her.

“I’m not Regan,” she rumbled, still with that taut and hideous grin that Karras now guessed was her permanent expression. How incongruous the braces on her teeth looked, he thought. “Oh, I see,” he said, nodding. “Well, then, maybe we should introduce ourselves. I’m Damien Karras. Who are you?”

“I’m the devil!”

Notice the verbs that Blatty uses with Reagan — gleamed, dribbled, gloated, croaked, rumbled. In contrast, the more calm individual in the scene, Karras, responds with simple verbs like “answered” and “saw”. The contrast allows the reader to see Reagan as disturbing.

If you want to make your readers squirm, reading only in daylight hours, shy away from the obvious gore and claptrap. Rather, take the quieter road of tiny disturbing details built up over pages and chapters. Show how your character reacts to what’s happening, and the reader will feel it too.

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How to Write a Story: A Guide for Creative Writers

• by Andrea Feccomandi
• August 27, 2024

There’s nothing quite like the joy of bringing a story to life, watching your characters grow and your world take shape. Storytelling isn’t just about writing; it’s about connecting with others through your words .

But to do that, you need to know the basic elements—like characters, plot, and setting. Think of these as the building blocks of your story. Without them, your story can’t stand strong.

This guide on how to write a story will take you through each step, making the process manageable and even enjoyable, whether you’re just starting out or looking to improve.

Story Meaning in Creative Writing

Let’s start with the definition of a story in creative writing.

STORY DEFINITION IN CREATIVE WRITING What is a Story? A story is a structured narrative that goes beyond a mere sequence of events. In creative writing, a story is an intentionally crafted experience designed to guide the reader through a progression of events and situations. It involves the creation of a fictional world, the introduction of characters, and the development of scenarios that lead to meaningful change or development in those characters.

How to Write a Story: Key Components of a Story

To understand how to write a story, you first need to grasp its key components: characters, setting, plot, conflict, and theme.

Characters are the heart of your story. They are the people, creatures, or beings that the reader follows. Think of them as the players in a game. Without characters, there’s no one to move through the story, no one to experience the events you’ve created.

Each character should have a purpose , desires , and challenges . For example, in a mystery story , your main character might be a detective determined to solve a crime. Their actions and choices drive the plot forward .

The setting is the world where your story takes place. It’s the backdrop against which your characters act. This could be a bustling city, a quiet village, or even a distant planet.

The setting influences the mood of your story and can even affect the actions of your characters . For instance, a story set in a haunted house might feel eerie and suspenseful, while a story set on a sunny beach might feel light and carefree.

The plot is the sequence of events that make up your story. It’s what happens to your characters as they move through the setting. A strong plot has a clear beginning, middle, and end. It might start with a problem or goal, build up as the characters face challenges, and end with a resolution.

Imagine a plot as a roadmap. It shows the direction your story will take , guiding the characters from the start to the finish line.

Conflict is what gives your story tension and drama . It’s the struggle between opposing forces that keeps the reader engaged. Conflict can be external, like a character fighting against another character or a natural disaster, or internal, like a character struggling with their own fears or doubts.

In a romance story , the conflict might be the obstacles that keep two characters apart. In a thriller, it could be the protagonist’s battle against a dangerous enemy.

Finally, the theme is the underlying message or lesson of your story . It’s what you want the reader to take away after they’ve finished reading.

The theme is often subtle, woven into the characters’ actions and the plot. For example, in a story about friendship, the theme might be the importance of loyalty and trust.

To survive, you must tell stories. Umberto Eco , The Island of the Day Before

Types of Stories

Stories come in many shapes and sizes. Understanding the type of story you want to write can help shape your approach. Different genres and formats offer different challenges and opportunities.

Genres like romance, science fiction, fantasy , and horror each have their own conventions and expectations . For example, a romance story usually focuses on relationships and emotions, while a science fiction story might explore futuristic technology or alien worlds. Knowing your genre helps you meet readers’ expectations while allowing you to play with the boundaries of that genre.

The format of your story also matters. A short story is brief, often focusing on a single event or moment in a character’s life. It requires concise writing and a tight plot. A novel , on the other hand, gives you more space to develop characters, explore subplots, and build a complex world. A novella falls somewhere in between, offering more depth than a short story but requiring more focus than a novel.

Choosing the right genre and format is like choosing the right tool for a job. It helps you focus your ideas and guides your storytelling . Whether you’re writing a quick, impactful short story or a sprawling epic novel, understanding these basics will set you on the right path.

How to Write a Story: Developing an Idea

The first step in learning how to write a story is developing a solid idea . This process involves finding inspiration and then refining that inspiration into something you can work with.

Finding Inspiration

Inspiration for a story can come from anywhere. It might spark from a conversation you overhear, a place you visit, or even a memory.

To find inspiration, start by observing the world around you . Pay attention to the small details—the way the light hits a building, the expressions people wear on their faces, or the rhythm of a crowded street. These observations can serve as the seeds for your story.

Reading widely also fuels inspiration. Explore different genres, styles, and authors. Notice how they craft their stories, how they build characters, and how they create tension. As you read, ask yourself what you would do differently. This can help you generate new ideas and find your unique voice.

Brainstorming is another effective way to develop story ideas. Sit down with a notebook and write down anything that comes to mind, no matter how vague or disconnected. You might start with a single word, a character, or a situation. Don’t worry about making sense at this stage. The goal is to let your imagination run free and gather raw material.

Refining Your Idea

Once you have a list of potential ideas, it’s time to refine them. Broad ideas often need narrowing down to become workable. Start by asking yourself some key questions : What is the main conflict in this idea? Who are the characters involved? Where and when does the story take place? These questions help you focus your idea and give it structure.

Originality is crucial in refining your idea. While it’s fine to take inspiration from existing stories, your version should bring something new to the table. Avoid clichés and overused tropes. Instead, think about how you can twist the familiar into something fresh . For example, if your idea involves a classic hero’s journey , consider how you might change the setting or alter the character’s motivation to make the story uniquely yours.

Adding personal touches also strengthens your story idea. Draw from your experiences, emotions, and perspectives. These elements give your story authenticity and depth. For instance, if you’re writing a story about overcoming fear, reflect on a time when you faced something scary. This personal connection will resonate with readers.

For example, let’s say you start with a basic concept: a person who wants to escape their small town . To refine this into a workable story, you might decide that the protagonist is a young woman who dreams of becoming an artist. The conflict arises because her family expects her to take over the family business. The setting could be a rural town that feels isolated and stifling. This simple idea now has direction, characters, and a central conflict, making it a strong foundation for your story.

How to Write a Story: Creating Compelling Characters

In learning how to write a story, creating compelling characters is one of the most crucial steps. Characters are the driving force behind your story . Readers connect with them , root for them, and follow them on their journey. To make your characters stand out, they need to be relatable, complex, and dynamic.

Character Development

Character development begins with understanding who your character is at their core . Think of your character as a real person. They should have goals, motivations, and flaws. Goals drive your character forward , giving them something to strive for. For example, a character might want to win a race, solve a mystery, or find love. These goals give your story direction.

Motivations explain why your character wants to achieve their goals . They add depth and make your character’s actions believable. If your character wants to win a race, their motivation might be to prove their worth, escape a difficult past, or fulfill a promise. Understanding these motivations helps you write actions and decisions that feel true to the character .

Flaws make your character human . No one is perfect, and your characters shouldn’t be either. Flaws could be anything from stubbornness to insecurity to a quick temper. These flaws create tension and conflict in your story, making it more engaging. For instance, a character who is too stubborn might refuse help when they need it, leading to further challenges.

Character Arcs

A character arc describes how a character changes throughout your story . A well-written arc adds depth and makes your story more satisfying. There are different types of character arcs, and the one you choose depends on your story.

A positive arc shows a character growing or improving . They start with a flaw or a false belief, but through the events of the story, they learn, change, and become better. For example, a character who begins as selfish might learn the value of helping others.

A negative arc shows a character’s downfall . Instead of growing, the character makes poor choices or refuses to change, leading to their decline. This arc can be powerful in tragedies or dark stories.

A flat arc involves a character who doesn’t change much but influences the world around them . This type of character often has strong beliefs or principles and helps others grow. Think of a mentor figure who stays consistent while guiding the protagonist.

Dialogue and Voice

Dialogue is a key tool for revealing character . It’s not just about what your characters say, but how they say it . To write authentic dialogue , consider each character’s background, personality, and current emotional state. A well-educated character might speak formally, while a teenager might use slang or short sentences.

Differentiating your characters through their speech patterns is crucial. It helps readers instantly recognize who is speaking, even without dialogue tags. For example, one character might be sarcastic, always making jokes, while another might be straightforward and serious. These differences make your characters more distinct and memorable.

Voice is another important aspect of a character. It refers to the unique way a character views and describes the world. A character’s voice should match their personality and background. For instance, a cynical character might describe things with a negative twist, while an optimistic character sees the bright side. This consistency in voice strengthens your character and makes them feel real.

How to Write a Story: Crafting the Plot

Learning how to write a story involves mastering the art of plot crafting. The plot is the backbone of your story. It guides your characters from beginning to end and keeps your readers engaged. To create a strong plot, you need to understand plot structure, pacing, tension, and the use of subplots.

Plot Structure

Plot structure is the framework that shapes your story . It provides a roadmap for your characters’ journey. Two common plot structures are the three-act structure and the Hero’s Journey.

In the three-act structure , the story is divided into three parts: setup, conflict, and resolution. The setup introduces the characters, the world, and the main problem. The conflict is the core of the story where challenges build, leading to the climax. The climax is the peak of the story, where everything comes to a head. After the climax, the resolution ties up loose ends and concludes the story.

The Hero’s Journey is another popular structure. It follows a character (the Hero ) who starts in their ordinary world but is soon called to an adventure. Along the way, they face trials, make allies, and confront their greatest challenge. After overcoming this challenge, the hero returns home, transformed by their experiences .

Both structures provide clear steps to follow, making it easier to organize your story. Whether you use the three-act structure or the Hero’s Journey, the goal is to create a plot that feels complete and satisfying.

Pacing and Tension

Pacing is how you control the speed of your story . It’s important to maintain a balance between fast-paced action and slower, more reflective moments. If your story moves too quickly, readers might miss important details. If it moves too slowly, they might lose interest.

To maintain good pacing, vary the length of your scenes . Short, quick scenes can build excitement and move the story forward. Longer scenes can slow things down and give readers a chance to catch their breath. Also, consider where you place important events. Spacing out major plot points keeps readers engaged and eager to see what happens next.

Tension is what keeps readers on the edge of their seats . It’s the sense that something important is at stake and that the outcome is uncertain. To build tension, gradually increase the obstacles your characters face. Start with smaller challenges, then escalate to bigger, more threatening situations. For example, in a mystery story, the tension might rise as the detective uncovers clues, leading to a final confrontation with the villain.

Subplots are secondary stories that run alongside your main plot. They add depth and complexity to your narrative, making it richer and more engaging. Subplots can explore side characters, develop themes, or provide a different perspective on the main story.

When creating subplots, ensure they complement the main plot . They should not distract from the primary narrative but instead enhance it. For example, if your main plot is about a hero saving the world, a subplot might explore the hero’s relationship with a close friend, adding emotional depth.

Weaving subplots into your story requires balance . Introduce them naturally, and make sure they connect to the main plot at key points. This connection helps to maintain the story’s focus and ensures that all elements of the plot work together.

How to Write a Story: Setting the Scene

When learning how to write a story, setting plays a crucial role. A well-crafted setting does more than provide a backdrop; it immerses the reader in your world and shapes the entire narrative. Let’s explore how to build a compelling setting and use it to enhance your story.

World-Building

World-building is the process of creating a believable and immersive setting for your story. Whether your story takes place in a real location or a fictional one, the setting must feel real to the reader .

Start by developing the physical landscape . Think about the environment—are there mountains, forests, cities, or oceans? What’s the climate like? How does the weather affect the characters’ daily lives?

Next, consider the cultural landscape . What are the customs, traditions, and values of the people who live in this world? How do these influence the characters and their actions? For example, in a society where honor is highly valued, a character might go to great lengths to protect their reputation.

Finally, think about the emotional landscape . How does the setting make the characters feel? A bustling city might create a sense of excitement or stress, while a quiet village could evoke feelings of peace or isolation. These emotional cues help the reader connect with the setting on a deeper level.

Using Setting to Enhance the Story

The setting is not just a backdrop; it influences the mood, theme, and character actions . Use the setting to create a specific atmosphere. For example, a story set in a dark, rainy city might feel tense and mysterious, while a story set in a bright, sunny field might feel warm and hopeful.

Setting can also reinforce the theme of your story. In The Great Gatsby , for example, F. Scott Fitzgerald uses the opulent settings of West Egg and East Egg to highlight the theme of wealth and its corrupting influence.

By carefully crafting your setting and using it to enhance the story, you can create a world that feels alive and integral to the narrative . As you continue to learn how to write a story, remember that a strong setting can be as important as the characters and plot.

How to Write a Story: Writing the First Draft

When learning how to write a story, the first draft is a crucial step. It’s where your ideas take shape on the page. This stage can feel daunting, but with the right approach, you can overcome the fear of the blank page and start writing with confidence.

Getting Started

Starting your first draft can be intimidating. The blank page often feels like a huge obstacle. To overcome this fear, remind yourself that the first draft doesn’t need to be perfect . It’s about getting your ideas down, not about crafting flawless prose. Think of it as building the foundation of a house—you’re just putting up the framework. The details can come later.

To start strong, consider beginning with a scene or moment that excites you . Don’t worry about writing in order. If there’s a particular scene that’s clear in your mind, write that first. This helps you build momentum. Once you’re in the flow, it becomes easier to tackle other parts of the story.

Writing Techniques

Several writing techniques can help you move through your first draft. Freewriting is a useful method. Set a timer for 10-15 minutes and write without stopping. Don’t edit or second-guess yourself; just let the words flow. This technique helps you bypass your inner critic and get your ideas on paper.

Word sprints are another effective strategy. Set a timer for a short period, like 20 minutes, and challenge yourself to write as much as possible. The pressure of the timer can push you to write faster and worry less about making it perfect.

Setting daily goals can also keep you on track. Decide on a specific word count to hit each day, whether it’s 300 words or 1,000. Consistent progress, even in small amounts, adds up over time.

Remember, the goal of the first draft is to get the story down. Don’t get caught up in editing or fixing every sentence. There will be time to refine your work later. For now, focus on moving the story forward.

Dealing with Writer’s Block

Writer’s block is a common challenge during the first draft. When you feel stuck, it’s important to take a step back. Breaks are crucial . Step away from your writing, take a walk, or do something else you enjoy. This gives your mind a chance to reset.

Changing your scenery can also help. If you’ve been writing at your desk, try moving to a different room, a coffee shop, or even outside. A new environment can spark fresh ideas and break through mental barriers.

Revisiting your inspiration can reignite your creativity. Look back at what inspired you to write this story in the first place. Read a favorite book, watch a movie that relates to your theme, or browse through your notes. These activities can remind you of your passion for the story and help you push past the block.

How to Write a Story: Revising and Editing

Once you’ve completed your first draft, the real work begins. Learning how to write a story doesn’t stop at getting your ideas down; it involves shaping and refining those ideas into a polished narrative. Revising and editing are essential steps in this process.

Importance of Revisions

The first draft is just the start. Think of it as the rough clay that you’ll now mold into its final form. Revisions allow you to step back and see the bigger picture . This is your chance to rework the plot, deepen character development, and improve pacing. For example, you might find that a subplot needs more attention or that a character’s motivations aren’t clear. Revising helps you address these issues and strengthen your story.

During revision, focus on the structure of your story . Does the plot flow logically? Are the character arcs satisfying? Is the pacing consistent? These questions guide your revisions and help you see where changes are needed. For instance, if the middle of your story drags, you might need to cut unnecessary scenes or add more conflict.

Self-Editing Techniques

After revising, it’s time to edit your work. Self-editing is a crucial skill in learning how to write a story. Start by checking for consistency . Ensure that characters act in ways that align with their personalities and that the plot doesn’t have gaps or contradictions. For example, if a character is afraid of heights, they shouldn’t suddenly climb a mountain without explanation.

Next, tighten your prose . Look for areas where you can be more concise. Remove unnecessary words, redundant phrases, and anything that doesn’t serve the story. This makes your writing clearer and more engaging. Also, watch out for clichés . These overused expressions can weaken your story. Replace them with original descriptions that better capture your unique voice.

Seeking Feedback

External feedback is vital in the revision process. After you’ve done your self-edits, consider sharing your story with beta readers or a writing group. These readers can spot issues you might have missed, such as unclear plot points or characters that need more development.

When receiving feedback, it’s important to stay open and objective . Criticism can be tough, but it’s meant to help you improve. Focus on the suggestions that resonate with you and use them to strengthen your story. For example, if multiple readers mention that a certain scene feels out of place, it’s worth re-examining that part of your story.

Final Steps: Polishing Your Story

You’ve revised and edited your story, and now it’s time to polish it. This final stage is crucial in learning how to write a story that’s ready to share with the world. Polishing involves careful proofreading, proper formatting, and preparing your story for submission or publication.

Proofreading

Proofreading is the last line of defense before your story goes out into the world . It’s about catching those small errors in grammar, spelling, and punctuation that can distract readers and undermine your professionalism. Take the time to read through your manuscript slowly, line by line. Look for common mistakes like misplaced commas, incorrect verb tenses, or misspelled words.

A clean, error-free manuscript shows that you care about your work and respect your readers . It also makes a better impression on agents, publishers, or anyone else who might read your story. Consider reading your story out loud . Hearing the words can help you catch mistakes that your eyes might skip over.

Formatting and Presentation

Once your manuscript is error-free, focus on formatting. Proper formatting makes your manuscript look professional and easy to read. If you’re submitting to a publisher or agent, follow their specific guidelines. Common formatting standards include using a readable font like Times New Roman, double-spacing the text, and including page numbers.

Different formats may require different presentation styles . For instance, a manuscript intended for print might need different margins or paper size than one intended for digital platforms. If you’re self-publishing, make sure your manuscript is formatted correctly for the platform you’re using, whether it’s an eBook or a print-on-demand service.

Presentation matters because it’s the first thing a reader or publisher sees. A well-formatted manuscript shows that you’ve taken the time to present your story in the best possible way.

Submitting or Publishing Your Story

After polishing your story, it’s time to decide how you want to share it with the world. There are several avenues for publishing, each with its own process.

Traditional publishing involves submitting your manuscript to agents or publishers . If you choose this route, you’ll need to write a query letter. This letter is your pitch, a brief introduction to your story, and why it would be a good fit for the publisher. Keep it concise and professional. Highlight the main points of your story, such as the genre, the central conflict, and what makes it unique.

Self-publishing is another option. It allows you to maintain control over your work and how it’s presented. Platforms like Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) or IngramSpark make it easy to publish your book as an eBook or in print. However, self-publishing requires more responsibility , as you’ll handle everything from editing to marketing.

Online platforms , like blogs or writing communities, offer a way to share your story with a wide audience. These platforms often have less formal submission processes, making them a good option if you’re looking to get feedback or build an audience quickly.

How Bibisco Novel Writing Software Can Help You Write Your Story

bibisco novel writing software is a powerful tool that simplifies the writing process. It offers features designed for creative writing , helping you organize your ideas and stay focused. With bibisco, you can create and develop your characters, structure your plot, and manage your scenes.

bibisco provides a clear overview of your story , making it easier to see how all the pieces fit together. You can track your progress, set writing goals, and keep everything in one place.

Whether you’re just starting or refining your draft, bibisco supports every step of your writing journey .

Conclusion: How to Write a Story

In this guide, we’ve explored the key steps a writer should follow to learn how to write a story. Each step brings you closer to creating a story that resonates.

Writing is a journey, and every story you create is a step forward. Embrace the creative process, even when it feels challenging.

Remember, storytelling has the power to connect people and share experiences across time and place. Your story, no matter how small it seems, has the potential to touch someone’s life. Start writing and let your voice be heard.

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4 Responses

Adorei as orientações! Um resumo muito útil inclusive para professores de linguagens.

I enjoyed reading this article as it gives a complete guide to creative writing in a quick read rather than a 400-page book. Thank you.

Thank you for reading, Hamish.

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