The daily prompt was different today. It was a prompt developed by the comic artist Lynda Barry, and it asked us to think about dogs you have known, seen, or heard about, and then use them as a springboard into wherever they take you.

I made Trace do it with me because I think it’s always good to write. Also, this prompt was so specific and timed that even those who don’t love writing (is that even a thing?!) could do it. I’d love to read your dog writings.

Don’t be off put by the time. You can half the time and get just as good a result. In fact, this is what I did with Trace. Here is your chance to experience NaPoWriMo for yourself and to do something more than scrolling on your phone.

Here are the instructions:

Set up a a 5-10-minute timer and briefly list as many dogs as you can think of. These can be childhood pets and just dogs you came across one day and never saw again. List as many dogs as you can, but try to get to at least ten.

Underline the one dog you're not surprised to see in the list—the obvious dog (because the dog was your first pet, or a family favorite, or one you just saw right before you began the exercise).

Circle the dog that surprised you--the one you didn't remember until you began the exercise.

Set up a 10-15-minute timer and write, to begin with, about that dog. Don't stop writing. Tell where you were, what you were doing. 

Write about the dog but also around the dog. What else was going on? Let the writing take you where it wants to take you. 

I hope you give it a try. Mine is below, and I post it with a Trigger Warning.

A Tragic Tale in Three Parts
 
I. The Prologue

Sometimes the ones 
we love the most 
get hurt the worst
by our own foolishness.

Carmen was such a pretty girl.
Caramel colored little pup—Vizsla-like(no wonder I loved her)
We all loved her, even mom,
and she never loved any dog 
after our perfect Pepper passed.
But Carmen wasn’t our dog,
she was yours, and I think
you loved her most of all.

II. The Story

The night was dark and rainy
(Don’t most tragedies begin here?)
The street was mostly deserted.

Most would say 
being downtown Detroit 
at 2 am 
in a souped up car 
on deserted streets 
is foolishness, 
pure and simple.
Every one knows
the underworld 
comes alive 
at 2 am.

The gall 
and puffed up pride 
it takes 
to believe you’ll be fine 
where others weren’t 
is enough to blind 
or to get you blinded
or to get you blindsided.

You never saw them coming.

How could you not see them coming?

When you saw the car 
with darkened windows 
pull up behind you,
what did you think?

Hit the gas!
Drive away!

But, no.

Six guys got out 
and you thought 
you would be ok.
How could you?

III. The Epilogue

In the end, your face was unrecognizable, 
but Carmen, 
Poor Carmen—
She paid with her life.

—cjpjordan