Write yourself!: prompts
21 Feb 2024: This is my granddaughter getting a new perspective on the world. When I need to see things differently, I set the problem aside for a while. I go outside and work in my yard or take a nap or meditate or write in my journal. What do you do you need to see with new eyes?
5 Dec 2023: I've written a novel describing Utah in 2135. Some people live in caves in the desert and eat insects; others live in a walled and glassed city powered by atomic energy. Being pessimistic, I imagine that the distance between the Haves and the Have-nots will grow. However, parts of my book are more optimistic. I imagined pockets of people who live in underground towns, share food and resources, and use solar power. What do you imagine the world will be like a century in the future?
12 Oct. 2023: A student took this picture of me when I was lost in England. I was leading a group of about 25 students through counties where writers lived, and I often led us off the correct trail. Somehow the students forgive me; their good cheer buoyed me up again and again.
Describe a time when you messed up and people forgave you and loved you anyway.
4 May 2023: When I was 12 or 13, my father had a small herd of horses. He only used one or two of them, but he liked having them. One day I went up to catch Calamity to do some job. He was probably 18 by then, still reliable. I only had a piece of twine, but I caught him and swung up. As soon as I was on his back, all the horses started running. Calamity forgot he was old. He and the whole herd were running full out. It was as if we could leave the ground and run through the sky, but it was also scary to have all those horses running close beside me. The word "awe" is overused, but that's what I felt. When have you felt awe?
26 January 2024: My great-grandfather Israel was a hard worker and was painfully frugal. He suffered physically (a hernia and other injuries) and emotionally (the death of two children and a feeling of failure). In his journal he reflected on his life and questioned his own upbringing, which caused him to embrace suffering and avoid gratification. On 23 May 1927, he wrote: "the teaching of the times required stern self denial from anything that approached a yielding to the promptings of appetite or desire. Dutiful children, to which class I seem to have belonged, were thus doubly handicapped: for I came to regard 'desire' as a most vicious thing; while 'to suffer' was very praiseworthy. My parents had been reared much the same way--and I may as well note that my treatment of my own children was but slightly modified." Reflect on this contrast in your own life. How do you think about the balance of self-inflicted suffering, maybe even for a good cause, and gratification of desire?
20 November 2023: This is a picture of my great-great-grandmother, Esther Ann Birch Bennion. She and her sister wife Mary provided a home, only a rough cabin, for the boys who herded the Bennion livestock in southern Rush Valley. She wrote a poem that urged her sister wife to imagine the future when they would look back on those difficult times. She wrote:
How we may spend our future
Or where our lot be cast
We know not, may we never regret
That unforgotten past
And may memory turn with pleasure, mellow light, Mary
To the lovely days we spent
In the old log cabin away in the hills
On everyday duties intent.
I'm grateful to my ancestor for this legacy of making difficult experiences bearable through imagining future gratitude. Write about an ancestor who makes you grateful.
7 Sept. 2023: This is a picture my friend Riley took of me walking along my grandfather's old ditch. It ran from Indian Springs down to his homestead on the flat. My Uncle Bob told me that Grandpa dug it by dragging a hoe. A trickle of water followed him, and he pulled that water around the contours of the landscape. His sons came behind and dug a deeper ditch. Grandfather was not an engineer, but he estimated the slope by counting the riffles in the stream behind him. He figured out how to get water to his land. Tell the story of one of your ancestors who had to improvise and figure out a way to do what had to be done.
16 Feb 2023: In 1997 after I taught study abroad in London, we took a trip across Europe with my mother and niece. We had two cars and drove through Germany, Austria, Switzerland, France, and Italy. We slept in tents and sometimes didn't even have a table to sit at while we ate. One of the first cites we drove through, our cars got separated, and without cell phones, we nearly didn't find each other. We were regularly lost and sometimes drove through pedestrian areas in towns while we searched for our campground. The girls got lice in their hair, and we could never get rid of the bugs and eggs. Once near Salzburg my mother wept and wondered in a loud voice if we were going to be lost forever. Describe a trip you took with your family that was pretty sketchy but now is funny and memorable.
10 Jan 2023: This drawing is a collaboration between my daughter Amy and me. I didn't put pencil to paper--that's all her work--but we had a conversation where we shared ideas, and she drew it for inclusion in my novel Spin. The drawing juxtaposes diagrams of three-dimensional Möbius bands with images of human hearts. Probably everyone has made a Möbius strip by taking a long piece of paper, turning one end over, and attaching it to the other end with glue. Then you can prove the paper now has only one side by putting a pen on a surface and drawing in one direction until you come back to the point where you started. Mathematicians consider this to be a non-orientable surface where top and bottom, inside and outside, and clockwise and counterclockwise directions are not distinguishable. I like the idea of comparing a heart to a Möbius band. While love and other emotions certainly move us one direction or another, a metaphorical map of the human heart is often paradoxical or irrational. To what would you compare the human heart?
9 Dec. 2022: This is my grandchild Cole and I making snow angels. You can see that we're having a great time. What have you done for fun in the snow with family and friends?
26 Nov. 2022: This is my great-aunt, Jean Bennion. She lived at her parent's home at Greenjacket, but taught school in Lofgren 6 miles away. She stayed there all week, but on weekends she walked home. She had a bad leg and wasn't tall. After one especially heavy snowstorm, she came to a drift that she couldn't wade across. Finally, she lay down and rolled across the drift. Then she got to her feet and walked the rest of the way home. Describe a creative solution to a seemingly unsurmountable problem that you faced and overcame.
5 November 2022: My sister Janet sent me this picture of a snack she was having. It reminded us all of our mother, who liked reading a book while eating raw onions for snacks, maybe on cheese but often with just salt sprinkled on the onion. Other snacks we had were sugary fudge, cold cereal drizzled with a sauce made of butter and brown sugar, and bottled peaches. What are some snacks your family has now or had when you were younger?
22 Oct 2022: During 1992-1993 we lived in Hawaii, where our son Christopher was born. Last fall we had a family reunion in Hawaii again. So many things had changed, not just in Laie, but also in us. In the older picture Betsy and Amy were young girls, my mother was alive, and Karla was pregnant with Christopher. Now my mother is gone, Christopher is a grown man, Amy and Betsy are strong women. Also, as you can see, I'm much more chubby than I was in 1993. Write about revisiting a place and about the changes that happened between the two times.
28 Dec 2022: This is a picture my daughter painted of my father. In the photograph she worked from, he had been drinking. He was depressive and used alcohol to self-medicate. He is one of the best people I have known, but from the time I was 15 until more than a decade later, I could only see him as an alcoholic. During that time, I couldn't have a conversation without thinking about his habit. I lost all that time of knowing him because I saw him as one dimensional. If you can, write about someone with whom you had an issue that kept you from seeing them.
5 Dec. 2022: In this picture my father and our neighbor, Bob Pehrson, who faces the camera, worked on one of our broken- down cars. My mother father was clueless about taking care of his vehicles, and Bob, a good mechanic, always helped us get them going. Describe how one of your neighbors has helped you or your family.
15 Nov 2022: Four years ago our daughter Amy stopped on the freeway because of traffic. A truck came around the corner and rear-ended her at 50 miles per hour. Luckily, the driver's side seat was a cocoon of safety, and she came out of it with a mild concussion. Describe a near miss with you or one of your loved ones that you're grateful didn't turn out worse.
28 October 2022: When I first saw these pictographs in Buckhorn draw about 30 years ago, I wondered what they meant. Looking at this picture today, I think about the layering of history. This panel was made by Barrier people who lived 1,500 to 4,000 years ago. Others who walked this canyon were Matt Warner, from Butch Cassidy's group, who put his name close to here in 1920. The CCC workers in the 1930s left their names. From 1875-78, my great-grandfather herded cattle as a teenager west of here, and it's conceivable he rode down this canyon. Backpackers and others have passed through here for decades. Describe the layering of history in a place you know well.
13 Oct 2022: This is Karla's mother. Karla and her siblings take care of their mother 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Describe a memory of taking care of an aging parent or grandparent.
15 Aug 2022: I'm curious about the occasion for this picture. My mother, my father, and a blow snake. What were they doing when he saw the snake and caught it to either scare or impress her? She doesn't look frightened or impressed. Who took the picture--one of mom's friends or one of my sisters? Do you have a family picture that makes you want to know what was happening just before the picture was snapped?
3 Aug 2022: This is a drawing my daughter Amy made for my novel SPIN. Karla, my wife, once dreamed that she was swimming in the ocean under a floe of ice. She was frightened but then realized that she was a polar bear and didn't need to worry. When have you dreamed you were an animal? What could you do that humans can't do?
28 April 2022: Not sure what to think about this picture. Does it symbolize that life is like crossing a murky lake in a sinking raft? After swimming in that water, we all got impetigo infections in every mosquito bite and thorn scratch. But the problem with assigning that meaning for this picture is that everyone is so happy. The kids were gleeful riding on that deflating raft. Write about the fun you had with an object that everyone else thought was a piece of crap.
8 March 2022: Four years ago, I had knee replacement surgery. The pain was both less severe and more pervasive than I anticipated. I thought it might never end. Also, for a couple of weeks I was strapped into a continuous passive motion machine, which I renamed the Rack. It bent and stretched my knee for 10 hours a day. During that time, Alexis West, a friend and former student, sent me a poem on Soundcloud--John O'Donohue reading "A Blessing for a Friend on the Arrival of Illness." His words resonated: "Now is the time of dark invitation beyond a frontier that you did not expect." Alexis also wrote, "I hope you enjoy the beautiful summer coupled with healing and a chance to slow down." I know the world is not really full of thoughtful people, but at that moment it seemed to be. Write about a friend who comforted you when you really needed comforting.
25 Feb 2022: This is a picture of me milking a cow when I was younger. None of my grandchildren know how to milk a cow. What skill do you have, taught you by your parents or grandparents, that most people no longer have?
8 Feb. 2022: This is a picture of an Argentinian game that my dad played with his Explorer Scouts. The object on the lower left is a cluster of juniper sticks tied together with baling wire. Horse riders tried to rope the bundle of sticks and pull it across a goal line. But if someone else roped it, they could try to drag stick cluster, horse, and rider across their own goal. This strikes me now as a dangerous game with a stick ball bouncing high in the air and with the horse riders trying to pull each other in opposite directions. Write about a youth activity that seems dangerous now.
31 Jan 2022: A picture of my mother from her High School yearbook. She grew up in Maryland, but when she married my father, she moved to the Utah desert. She had to learn how to milk a cow and cook on a wood stove. She taught me to love reading and how to wipe crumbs off a table into my hand, among many other skills. Write about something your mother had to adapt to or about something she taught you.
8 Aug 2022: On a class camping trip some students stole my summer sausage and held it hostage. To get it back I had to sing the Star-Spangled Banner at the top of my lungs on an elevator full of strangers. What's something silly or embarrassing you had to do on a dare?
26 July 2022: Writing class at the Stone Circle Castlerigg, Keswick, UK. We were playing a community building game. What is the strangest place you had class as a student or as a teacher?
17 May 2022: This is a blurry picture of me when I was about 16. I had on my Levi's, my floppy hat, my Converse sneakers, and I'm trying to play a harmonica. Most of those things I did to try to look cool and impress women. It looks like it might be working, but this is at a family reunion so she's probably a distant cousin--although I don't remember who. What did you do when you were a teenager to appear cool and make yourself attractive?
5 April 2022: Today is my mother's birthday. This picture is of her and three of my sisters--Mary Ann, Barbara, and Elizabeth--at Greenjacket. One of my best memories of my mother is when she took me up to the bookmobile in the summertime. We'd each get a stack of 10 books or more, which would last us until it came again in 2 weeks. What is something you did with your mother when you were young?
4 March 2022: Yesterday I took my granddaughter Colette shopping, and she bought the smaller set of skeleton earrings shown in the picture. I don't often wear jewelry, but in high school I wore a medallion on a chain over a turtleneck sweater. My friends called me "Hippie Bennion." Write about a piece of distinctive or memorable jewelry that you have worn.
18 Feb 2022: This is a picture of one of our study abroad students from 2005, Janelle Lamb Morris. She's kissing the foot of Robert Burns, the poet from Scotland. If she could have climbed up, she probably would have kissed his mouth. If you could, what historical figure or favorite author would you kiss? Why?
13 Feb 2022: My daughter painted this portrait of my mother. She enjoyed being the center of attention on her birthday, even if she pretended not to. She made birthdays and holidays special for me. Once, when I got off the bus, all my friends got off too. It was a surprise. We all went to Tooele to have pizza and watch a movie. Describe a special birthday that you remember.
6 Feb 2022:This is a picture of Karla's family pressing apples from the family orchard into cider. Everyone helped, from Grandma to the little kids. When I was young, my family had a garden every year that we weeded sometimes and got vegetables from, and with my dad I harvested pine nuts several times. What was a family food-gathering or food-processing enterprise from your childhood?
25 Jan. 2022: Cousins. I've had interesting experiences and loving connections with my cousins. I watched the moon landing at my cousins' house. Write about an experience with your cousins.
20 Jan. 2022: Last week I drive west to stay overnight in my sheep camp parked on my sister's ranch. Deep snow had drifted against it and had buried my four wheeler. I love being inside with the wood stove burning when it's very cold outside. I realize that this love of being in a small ordered place in the outdoors comes from my reading of "My Side of the Mountain," where the boy tunnels into a tree to make a winter home for himself. Write about a book that you read as a child that still haunts you.
2 Aug 2021: My grandmother Lucille grew rose bushes with little yellow blooms in front of her house, Whenever I see or smell those roses, I'm reminded of her. What object is connected in your mind with a person you love?
2 Feb 2021: I remember dancing in elementary school. It was both interesting and embarrassing, mostly embarrassing because I was very shy. Even though these are my mother's students, not me, this picture brought back memories. For today's prompt, write about something embarrassing you had to do in elementary school with members of the opposite sex.
22 January 2021: Here's me with some tomato juice that I bottled last summer. I watched my mother bottle fruit when I was a child, but I didn't do any bottling myself until I became an adult. Write about something your parents taught you to do.
4 January 2021: When I was young, I loved horses, and I loved the smell of horses Even today the smell of a horse sends me back. The smell of lilacs also takes me back, and reminds me of my childhood house in Vernon, Utah. What smells take you back? Write about a memory that is connected powerfully to a smell.
5 December 2020: For forty years I’ve worked to persuade students that the pleasure and pain of writing about their own lives is beneficial, even when it’s never going to be published. Reflective writing helps all of us see ourselves and others more clearly. Every week in this space, I’ll post a new prompt that might shake loose a memory or two.
This week you might write about something from before you were twelve that felt so frightening that it’s burned into your memory. Then reflect on that memory: how did you or others respond to the danger and what does that show about you and your family or community?
12 January 2021: I took this picture of Karla’s slippers—including polar bear claw, panda, and pink flamingo styles. I have only one pair of slippers but 25 pairs of shoes and boots, all for specific uses. What do you have more of than you need? A better question is “Why do you value these things that someone else might think you have in excess?
8 December 2020: During our early teen years, my cousin Scott’s interest in writing poetry infected me. Maybe we both had it in our blood, our grandmother was a painter and our grandfather a historical writer. Our ancestors wrote letters, journals, and autobiographies. My cousin and I wrote on paper bags, scraps of paper, in the mud with sticks, while we worked together on my father’s and grandfather’s ranches on the eastern edge of the Great Basin. We made up obscene lyrics, which we sang to the skunks and rattlesnakes, and impossible fantasies, generally having to do with girls, which we narrated to each other. We also took an epic (for me) road trip with Scott’s art teacher to the Laguna Beach art festival. We drove all night, slept on the beach. At the festival I bought a pottery mug that I still have. Here is a picture of us, probably in Santa Barbara. For today’s writing promt, you might write about a road trip you took as a teenager or as a college student.
5 December 2020: I’m not sure when I started writing about myself, but I now have a couple dozen journals that describe my experiences and reflections. That makes me seem like a dedicated diarist, but most of it is pretty fragmentary. Here’s the opening page of one from 1 January 1966, when I was twelve; I made it to 18 January before I left off writing. Most of what I wrote that day I wouldn’t remember without the journal, but I do remember the day my Uncle George slid off the road. Fixed in my memory is an image of the truck, front end on the road, back end hanging over a drop-off on Lookout Pass. My uncle had two horses in back but couldn’t get them out, so he sat on the hood of the truck to try to keep the whole outfit from tumbling down the mountain. I didn’t remember that Calvin Olson was the one who helped tow my uncle, but it could have been anyone from our tight-knit town, Vernon, where we all looked out for each other, whether it was to discover some new gossip or to offer help.