Prompt - Stanza Story

Sometimes professors have the coolest prompts.

Last week our class was assigned a prompt to write a story based off of a stanza from a famous poem.  So I want to challenge you all to do the same.  The poem we were provided was, "Resurrection of the Dust," by John McKernan, because of copyright issues, I will not be using this poem, but rather a classical work, that has no risk of Copyright infringement. So for this prompt I shall use "The Phoenix and the Turtle," by William Shakespeare.

The purpose of this poem is to choose one stanza. That stanza will be the beginning of your story.  You should challenge yourself by limiting your story to one or two pages.  Practice quick and concise writing, however, if you go over, that is okay too!

The Phoenix and the Turtle

By William Shakespeare

Retrieved from here.

The Phoenix and the Turtle

Let the bird of loudest lay

On the sole Arabian tree,

Herald sad and trumpet be,

To whose sound chaste wings obey.

But thou shrieking harbinger,

Foul precurrer of the fiend,

Augur of the fever's end,

To this troop come thou not near.

From this session interdict

Every fowl of tyrant wing

Save the eagle, feather'd king:

Keep the obsequy so strict.

Let the priest in surplice white

That defunctive music can,

Be the death-divining swan,

Lest the requiem lack his right.

And thou, treble-dated crow,

That thy sable gender mak'st

With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,

'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

Here the anthem doth commence:—

Love and constancy is dead;

Phoenix and the turtle fled

In a mutual flame from hence.

So they loved, as love in twain

Had the essence but in one;

Two distincts, division none;

Number there in love was slain.

Hearts remote, yet not asunder;

Distance, and no space was seen

'Twixt the turtle and his queen:

But in them it were a wonder.

So between them love did shine,

That the turtle saw his right

Flaming in the phoenix' sight;

Either was the other's mine.

Property was thus appall'd,

That the self was not the same;

Single nature's double name

Neither two nor one was call'd.

Reason, in itself confounded,

Saw division grow together;

To themselves yet either neither;

Simple were so well compounded,

That it cried, 'How true a twain

Seemeth this concordant one!

Love hath reason, reason none

If what parts can so remain.'

Whereupon it made this threne

To the phoenix and the dove,

Co-supremes and stars of love,

As chorus to their tragic scene.

THRENOS

BEAUTY, truth, and rarity,

Grace in all simplicity,

Here enclosed in cinders lie.

Death is now the phoenix' nest;

And the turtle's loyal breast

To eternity doth rest,

Leaving no posterity:

'Twas not their infirmity,

It was married chastity.

Truth may seem, but cannot be;

Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;

Truth and beauty buried be.

To this urn let those repair

That are either true or fair;

For these dead birds sigh a prayer. 

Obviously a problem arises in that this is not a modern poem, so your story may take the feel of this poem. Feel free to use the stanza in quote form.  Use it for characterization, whatever purpose you need.  Just have fun with it. If this poem is too difficult, choose a different one. Just keep in mind copyright laws when you do so. 

~Beth

The Need To Move On

Copyright notice, this image is public domain and free to use from here.

This is more a speculative piece, not based on any prompts, or any writing I have done recently. Nor does it have to do with other writers' suggestions, but rather something that occurred to me a few weeks ago, and then again tonight. Sometimes - I realized - what is most necessary is to just move on.  I don't mean this in a way that suggests anyone should just quit halfway through. No nothing quite so drastic. Rather, I mean this more in a way of growth. We as humans, we grow, our experiences, our every day interactions shape us and how we regard the world around us. Rather we grow forward or backwards, no matter the direction, there is little debate that we grow.  So for better or for worse, does our writing not need to as well?

This is kind of a personal realization for me, and here is the reason.  For the last seven years I have been in a writing partnership with Skoora.  Many of you know that.  Thousands of pages have been drafted between the two of us. Hundreds and hundreds of thousands of words, and I'd gander millions if not billions of characters. These accomplishments have helped me grow as a writer, but recently I've found myself wondering how far I've come, and if I could go further. Because I realize that I have trouble letting go. We as human beings find a place where we are comfortable, and being shaken from that comfort causes us great stress. Something as simple as our favorite barista quiting after ten years of diligent service at our coffee shop that we go to just for them is enough to shake our emotional stability for a short time - and for some a great deal of time.  What does that say about us? Well the obvious answer is we stick to what we know.

This is a double edged sword, because the greatest advice writers give other writers is 'Write what you know.' Yet when does that quit being enough?  For the last six of the seven years Skoora and I have been writing, there has been a pretty prominent constant in our writing, and that is my primary character who goes by the name - I bet you can guess it - Tory.  He's the character that really started it for me, the one who made me realize so much about myself as a writer, but also about myself as a human being.  There has been something positive that has come from this, over the years as I've grown, so has he, to where I can now write him in any situation with ease.  I know him better than I know myself, I now what makes him tick, I know what makes him smile, and what makes him cry (which is everything). I know what he wants, what he fears, who he cherishes, who he wishes he could love more.  I know his vices and where he excels.  He's a character that is as real to me as you or myself.

I know Tory.

But maybe it's time I stop writing what I know? I find myself performing a tap dance through flaming hoops and tanks of man-eating piranha when I try to write someone else, anyone else.  I think with Tory I have grown as far as I ever will, and so this makes me wonder should I find a knew comfort? Should I find a new  knowledge?

Is this a question that all writers should ask?

Is the advice, 'Write what you know,' too broad?  If you know detectives, certainly you should write about that, if you know horses, then follow in Joe Henry's footsteps and write about horses. Yet, one of the greatest feelings in writing is learning something new. The research, the hardwork, the discovery that goes into writing the next scene, in building a life that you yourself can never live.  Is that not the wonder of fiction? The wonder of using ones mind to weave tales that are remarkable and unfamiliar, but through time, effort, and perseverance, become familiar?

Should I put to rest my familiar comfort and face the fires of uncertainty?  It's an interesting question that I know many great writers would disagree on. So this is something of a philosophical question that I don't believe has a write or wrong answer, but rather is left to personal preference, and it is the job of the writer to find that in themselves.

So I ask, what is your take on this topic, on writing the familiar, can this lead you into a dangerous downward spiral? Do you believe you should always write what you know? Do you believe that sometimes the best writing comes from learning and building new knowledge?  When does it become time to move on? Should we always/never move on?  I hope that this piece has allowed for some thought rather than confusion.

And on that note I leave with this idea:

 What we know is limited, but what we can learn is a vast universe of unforeseeable potential. - Elizabeth Kelly