Novel & Cerita Writing Prompts Fiction

Those small moments of encouragement make me want to keep writing, even on the days when it’s hard. This story might not be perfect, but it’s honest. Every chapter is written with effort and thought. Some parts may move fast, others a bit slower but that’s how stories breathe. I hope, somewhere in between, you find something that sticks with you. --- PREFACE Before you start, I want to say this clearly: This is a work of fiction. Everything you’ll read — the names, places, businesses, and events comes from imagination. Some details may feel familiar, but they’re not taken from real life. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental.

Time seemed to be moving more slowly as we drew nearer to the water beneath us. 3. Winning my sixth grade spelling bee... I tried blocking out the excruciating pain screaming at me in my ear, every second we were plunging further and further down. 4. Art classes with Miss Miller... The blocking worked and I felt the contact with the water as our car fell in. 5. Bedtime stories with my grandmother... I jerked forward at the impact it created 6. Becoming class president in fourth grade... The impact was so strong I could feel my neck crack as it got jerked back.

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I cursed out loud wailing at my pathetic fate of being a woman who was depicabely hated by everyone in the fanfic. I've written about the plot which I remember and I'm sure that's what happened until I transmigated into this world. So now, I need to gain trust of Eros and make him believe that I'm not going to stalk him anymore or do something psychotic as before. As soon as I came back from the school I rushed towards my desk grabbing a pen and paper to write about the plot I've read. I've written all the shitty things that Medusa did till now. Trust me she did enough bullshit for me to clean up.

“What is this? I told you we just need a brief description. I didn’t ask you to make up some bullshit story.” “I added some colour-” “You didn’t add colour,” he interrupts the writer. “You wrote a whole fucking horror story. When did any of our children die? We didn’t pick up exploded elders in the forest. Everything we say needs to be believable. This is not.” “I’m sorry, your highness,” the woman says. “I write fiction, not-” “Do better next time,” Johnathan interrupts and shoves the folder back in her hands. “Who has the fact sheet about this man?”

Lucienne had just brought some coffee when she grabbed the mug, planted a kiss on his cheek, and rushed downstairs to her office. She rubbed her hands together as her computer started up and her fingers started to glide over the keyboard at an alarming rate the moment she was able to type. She was going to write their story. She would write it in such a way that it looked like a fiction novel and nobody would ever believe that it was fact. Venus brought her another cup of coffee a bit later, but she didn’t pay any attention to her friend as her fingers furiously typed out all her ideas. Page after page filled with her words as she told the story of a young female werewolf making her way thro

My imagination has gone too surreal to be called healthy. I just shook my head. I continued walking and looked a few more times behind me in case I… really… saw… a dragon…. But there was nothing, though. That’s it. Grandma's stories have gotten into my head. Besides, I’ve been working on fiction about creatures similar to it. I’ve been submitting more entries to the same ol’ publisher that has rejected every of my written pieces. I just didn’t know how to give up. Not yet. I knew I was born to be a well-known writer. And I swear that to the moon!

I decided to wander over to the love garden, a quiet, secluded green space on campus, so I could try to brainstorm some story ideas for the university reporter's club. I pulled out my phone and pulled up the group chat, re-reading the latest announcement Lucy had pinned for the staff. When Lucy had explicitly instructed us to find a "realistic" angle for our next submissions, she didn't mean the prose just needed to sound realistic. She meant we needed to unearth actual, gritty stories about what was currently happening behind the closed doors of this university. "Damn it," I muttered to myself, rubbing my cheek as I stared at the blank digital document on my screen. "Where am I even suppose

He moved back and spoke to her softly. She knew he loved his kids a lot so she didn’t object. “Sure. I’ll be waiting eagerly.” She sat down on his chair on which nobody was allowed to sit. “Will we be working today?” “What made you think that I’ll make you work when you’ll be looking so gorgeous” My father complimented her indirectly. “So… Shall we go out and have coffee?” She spoke to my father in a flirtatious way. “Anything for you.” He took Caroline out for coffee.

Jane Ann showed Grace how questions could be far worse than letting it go. “Good grief, are you one of my professors from university? That sounds like one of their writing practice prompts.” Now she was getting angrier still from the lack of information. “Well, maybe it’s a good writing prompt. Think about it. You don’t have to say werewolves or where. But write about a what if. What if the public discovered a creature from mythology? But they weren’t ravening monsters, and they’ve existed peacefully with us the entire time? Fighting for our rights and defending the land and people. Would they have earned the right to human rights even though they aren’t human? Think about it. People talking