Write a short story (300 words) about a woman in crisis

"Where's dad? I need to ask him something." Sometimes it seemed that Abby looked at her like you would a butler. She herself had been a daddy's girl; that was true. Her mother had had her place, of course. When she was sick, when she'd gone through puberty - there were things for which she needed the woman's touch. But for almost everything else - bath times, bedtimes, being called in from play, being driven home from birthday parties and the like - for those things, only dad would do. Even now, as an adult, it showed. She still spent more time talking to her father than her mother when they called. In times of trouble it was her father's advice she naturally sought, and in times of triumph it was his approval she needed. It was not until she had a daughter of her own, however, that she began to think about her own nature.
She wasn't sure what age Abby was when she realised her daughter preferred her father. Tim used to work out of an office in the town, but being self-employed meant that he was sometimes able to come home in the middle of the day. On one of these days, when Abby was about five, Tim had been tasked with collecting her from school, as her mother had been pressed for time to do the shopping. When she had got home, she had found the two of them playing with Abby's toys on the carpet. They both looked so happy. After that, Abby was always asking if Tim would take her home, and if he was free, whether she herself was engaged or not, he would.
"Your father's out, dear," she said. "Anything I can help you with?" Her daughter looked her in the face, as if sizing her up.
"Never mind." Abby left the room.
She wondered why no one ever talked about this. She couldn't be the only one. And who could she blame? Not a 15-year-old girl, certainly. And not her husband, not for something that made him so happy.
She picked up the phone and dialed. "Hi Mum. No, I just phoned for a chat. No, no, I want to chat with you."

Revisit the earlier character's backstory and intersperse it with dialogue.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" she asked, after a time. Grandmother was not a hard person, though the war had made her resilient.
"Aggie..." was the only response the stranger could muster. But to her, there could be no word more telling. She was not accustomed to being address so, had not been for forty years. Her husband had called her Agnes, she could remember him calling to her on the day he died. Another life, it seemed. The life of Aggie, yet another. But that was what he had always called her, something she resented him for at first.
They stood in silence, Grandmother not daring yet to acknowledge him. Finally, he said again, "Aggie. It's me. Did you not get my letter?" There was something there, she thought. Something in the voice. Which was strange, because the accent was German now, and carried the huskiness of old age. But a tonal quality, something unmistakable, was familiar. The last time she had heard it was so long ago. A lifetime ago - hers and her husband's. She had said goodbye to it and had never thought she would hear it again. Now it was in her front room.
And before she knew it, there were tears in her eyes. She was not immediately aware of a sensation of sadness. But the body remembered what the mind could not grasp, and it wept. It wept for the report of his death in France, it wept for her loneliness, it wept for her husband, who had lifted her from that misery. And now it wept because the boy who died forty years ago was now a man in her hallway, with the same light in his eyes.

Take a sentence from either "The Dream" or "The Artist" and write it as a 'play script' story, as in "The Black Cap"

 (The thieves climb over the wall of the mosque and into the adjoining house)
Merchant: They are so loud, I wonder they do not wake the neighbourhood! Wait, it sounds like...yes - the have woken the household. I had better not more, or they will think I am one of them. But they are calling for help. Perhaps I should go...but no, I can't afford to get involved. They are coming back this way!
(The thieves climb back over the wall and make their escape)
Merchant: It would appear it is all over. I hope they didn't take anything of value.

Write a brief passage of backstory related to a character, including a movement in time.

Not 100% sure about the description on this one, but whateverface.


Grandmother had never been a hard woman. They say that when the men went off to war, the women had to take control and got used to being in charge. When the men came back, they found their wives had changed. They ruled the household with an iron fist. Grandmother had never been like that. But she had lived through the war and was strong in her own way. She didn't talk about it now, though. She had loved, as many had, a soldier who didn't come back. None but her husband knew that her first child, her son, wasn't his.
Forty years later, she received a letter that changed everything. Her husband had died by then. His lungs had been bad for a while, but despite the forewarning it was no easier to lose a man the second time. She looked at the letter with curiosity. She knew the hands of everyone who was accustomed to writing to her, or at least to sending her Christmas cards. Not only was the writing unfamiliar, but the stamp was foreign and the postmark was from Munich, Germany. Seeing this, the envelope dropped from her hands.

Show don't tell - "She waited with her sister, drinking tea, seeking reassurance."

Her sister came in with two plastic cups of tea, putting her own down before carefully handing over the other. Her sister looked at her expectantly, and she pretended to take a sip. She felt too ill to drink anything, almost too ill to move at all. Staring at corners of the room kept her grounded, kept her from falling. She couldn't help but sneak glances at the clock every now and then, but she no longer understood what the hands meant. Her sister sat back in her chair, but occasionally reached her hand over to pat her knee. She appreciated the sentiment but the contact threw off her fragile balance.

Evicted clown. Stream of consciousness.

Calm down, calm down. Down the cheeks, over the brow. There's places I can go, calm down. Round the lips, the nose. I could ask Andy....maybe not, he's got a girlfriend now. Now the black, the eyes, delicately now. Damn, forgot the neck. Amateur! It's a process, gotta keep an order to it. How much money do I have left? Maybe I can avoid paying those last bills. Maybe Danny - he's got a nice place. Still, haven't spoken since July. That's it, now the eyes. We could meet for coffee, it'll come up, he'll have to offer. Bugger! Smudged it. Calm down, it's going to be okay. Just, let's stop for a moment, let my hands relax. No! They're watching - can't show weakness. Cardinal rule. It's for the kids. Mum and dad? Last resort. Let's try again. Sweeping vertical lines, good. Is dad ashamed of me? Can't think about that now. And completing the cross. Excellent, I'm in control. Where's the red? God, where's the red, where's my fucking red there it is. Calm down, it'll work out. Whoever heard of a homeless clown - it doesn't happen. Can't happen. Danny, that's the way. If not Danny, then who? Easy around the cheeks, gotta keep it even - blast! Right, where's the white again? I can get a new place. Might take time. How long have I got? A week? Shit! Ten minutes! Okay, easy with the red this time. Good, great. I'm ready to roll. Stay still, legs. Stop shaking. We'll be fine.

Write a list of satirical or intimidating instructions in the second person about how to be a writer

First, you need to come up with a character. Any character will do, but you have to make him interesting. Or her. You have to give them a past. And there has to be a source of conflict. Maybe your character has two personalities. Maybe more. And you have to give them a family, friends, something to fight for. Or not fight for - that's the conflict, you see. You also need to think about setting. You can't have a character without a place. That's where they do things. You want to make it a nice place or a not-so-nice place, but you have to remember that people don't want to read depressing things all the time, so go easy on that sort of thing. You'll probably want a villain or something in the same place. Conflict - that's what it's all about. The villain wants the girl - or maybe the guy - that's up to you of course, it's a creative process. Maybe your villain hates the hero. One of the hero's personalities. Maybe all of them. You have to make them think maybe the hero won't win. Maybe he doesn't win - how's that for a twist? You've got to have a twist. Maybe the villain is the hero. Or the girl. It's up to you, like I said. The most important thing is, you've got to be original. You have to make it new, put your stamp on it. Just do everything I've said and you'll do great.