Photo and Art Prompts to Inspire Creativity in all Forms
For artists, bloggers, poets, writers and students


Photo Title: Dinner © Aline Smithson Photography
Visit her website to see additional photos.
The photographer lives in Los Angeles, California, and specializes
in fine art photography.

Photo Prompt
You are a screenwriter, and looking for an idea for your next movie. Study the photograph. Then write one or two lines, including the movie title, to sum up your movie. This article may help you with this prompt: Ideas for Movies

Writing Prompt
You're sitting across from this dinner "guest." Who is he, and why are you having dinner with him? Describe the meal, and whether or not you enjoyed dinner.

Photo used with permission from Aline Smithson


Every Photo Tells A Story said...

Welcome! Once again, I will not comment on anything written here, unless it is "conversational" in tone. I don't want to act as a teacher or judge your writing since I am not experienced in those areas. I hope those of you who are creative writers do not get frustated by this. Enjoy your day.

Sarah Copeland said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sarah Copeland said...

This picture instantly brought my mind back to last weeks social studies lesson which dealt with the Holocaust of WW2. If I were to center a movie title/idea around this picture I would borrow the term Kristalle Nacht and have it be about a family that doesn't survive the holocaust, have it follow each family member until mercy is granted in death.


The heat of an august prairie afternoon makes his plastic skin melt,
loosening a vintage tie he forces a halting voice to brave the outside world.
My mother, acting equally as plastic, pours another cup of lemonade
with shaking hands whiter then freshly churned butter. I fidget beneath layers of Sunday dress and tug at pale pink ribbons that almost disappear beneath unruly blond curls, an older sister's glare from behind the visitor's shoulder stills
my very soul. With a startling fierceness the visitor speaks;
a narrow tale he etches upon our hearts, the meaning as clear as mud
to my naive heart, as his voice raises with every new truth.
My eyes fulfill the need to stare at something by etching my own stories
on the leather cover of his black book.

Time crept along until finally the young visitor took his leave,
as my mother escorted him to the crumbling front door I once again raised my eyes to stare at where the visitor had sat, his plate of cookies untouched and carefully balancing on the thick arm rest. My simple mind wondered how much of his plastic skin he had shed in my father's favorite chair, shivering in disgust I tried to push the stern face of the visitor out of my mind, but it always seemed to reappear.

I remember the cookies my mother made that day, simple circles with raisins pressed in at random, every year at our august family reunions she makes them by the dozens, but my mouth turns to desert when the thought of eating them comes to mind.
That preachers disapproving sniff roars in my ear like a waterfall,
childhood fidgeting masked my fear but now as I remember his plastic skin,
I remember too his plastic words. I remember the hypocrite who melted in my father's favorite chair that sweltering august afternoon. The afternoon before the night that, that glorious visitor drank himself into oblivion.

Anonymous said...

Title: I ate with a Goblin

An orphaned young girl found herself lost in the woods. Having seen an abandoned cabin, she came in to her biggest surprise!

Writing Prompt:
This dinner guest must be someone from my dream. A mystical creature who came not to haunt me but lighten up my burden. Unfortunately, I have no much means to repay his kindness, so I cooked him the last flour cake I could ever make with the few ingredients that I have. I was only smiling at him as he eats. It made my tummy full just by looking at him enjoy the simple meal. For him it was a delicacy, and I'm very glad it was enough to make his heart glad.

Anonymous said...

Writing Prompt

Every night I wake up covered in sweat. I can't get those eyes out of my mind. I can't remember when he first appeared in my dreams. This horrible, little creature who chains me to my chair, then forces me to eat rotted food and drink down dirty dish water until I gag for mercy. It makes no sense, no sense at all. I can not live this way. But, how can I kill someone who does not exist?

Anonymous said...

I just wanted to comment on the photograph. It disturbs me, but also fascinates me. It looks like he's about to go for that knife! He's small, but deadly??

Every Photo Tells A Story said...

Sarah and Ares: Let me know if you take your "screenwriting" idea and develop it into a story, etc. I'd love to read it.

Every Photo Tells A Story said...

Whether it be truth or fiction, thank you for sharing your stories :)


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