Creative Writing Prompt 1: Outside The Window

As well as continuing to document my life with Mental Illness, I’ve been wanting to have a go at some ‘creative writing’.  After a quick Google Search I came upon this website, which provides 365 creative writing prompts.  Theoretically, this should be one each day for a year but I’m reluctant to commit to that at this point.  I will, however, endeavour to get through two or three a week as well as maintaining the other aspect of this blog.  This is my first attempt, based on this, the first prompt from the above site:

1. Outside the Window: What’s the weather outside your window doing right now? If that’s not inspiring, what’s the weather like somewhere you wish you could be?

Since its evening, bordering on dark, it is rather difficult to know what the weather is doing currently.  This has led me to conjure images of where, unrestricted by illness, I might go and what the weather may be like when I get there.

Just now, when doing imagery practice for my Therapy homework, I repeatedly imagine that I’m back on the Gulf Coast of Florida, not far from Venice Beach.  In my mind, I walk long stretches of soft, white sand, down by the sea which laps around my legs.  I find myself knee-deep, the rolling waves hungrily trying to consume more of me.  The sensation of the water, albeit warm, is a stark contrast to the intense heat of the burning sun, beating down from above, seeking out the tiniest patch of unprotected skin, on which it will deposit its dangerous UV-rays.

Being at the waters edge, partially submerged, grants me the vaguest relief from the heat described above.  Almost undetectable zephyrs of lukewarm air come wafting discreetly from somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico.


The water is a deep ultramarine colour, bordering on green, and the beach is impeccably clean.  In this part of the World, the beaches are nature reserves, patrolled by rangers dedicated to the maintenance of the beach as well as the preservation of any wildlife that has chosen this as their home, or nesting place.  Walking along, I’m having to navigate my way around some wonderfully exotic birds, remembering that I am a visitor to their home and that they shouldn’t have to make way for me.

Whether this remains an exercise in imagery, or whether I will ever make it back to these stunning beaches remains to be seen.  In the mean time, they make good ‘safe places’, havens to which I can allow myself to be transported in my mind.


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