Triple decker perspective writing shines a new light on a unique type of writing prompt.

The whole point behind triple decker perspective writing is to maintain the idea of triple decker writing prompts, but at the same time, to begin to view your writing from different angles.

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A writer's perspective can change the entire way that a piece of writing is read. Triple decker writing prompts are not the only prompts to use to help you see differing viewpoints. Read a book and consider how you might have written it from another character's perspective so you could have gotten the outcome you might have preferred, or you might have heard the storyline that interested you more.

That is what triple decker perspective writing is great at bringing out of you. Great works of writing usually make you ask questions as you read, and they often make you think about them after you have finished reading. What do you think about? What do you wish had been done differently? What wouldn't you change? Combine all of these elements into a story of your own that tells the tale a bit differently. Make your own triple decker perspective writing, and see how it kind of lends itself to the concept of writing your own adventure, as you are able to pick and choose the parts of the story you like best and shape the outcome more to your liking.

Consider the following two triple decker perspective writing prompts. They have the same main ideas, but one is written from a happier perspective, while the other focuses more on a depressed state of being. See how the words and phrasing stay constant for the most part, as well as the three items that make up the triple decker writing prompt, but the main gist of the story was changed to accommodate a different perspective, a different mood, and a different emotional standpoint.

Triple Decker Perspective Writing Prompt #1: A bouquet of flowers, a wind chime, and a kangaroo

“Tinnng, tinnng, tinnng,” whistled in the breeze. Two small children scurried out the front door, eager to play with the new puppy that Father had just brought home.

Cubbie was a small Labrador retriever, eager to jump and bounce around with the children. They ran back and forth, round and round the large front yard, as the greener than green grass was stomped down and eagerly revived when they rushed past.

The wind chime continued to “tinnng,” and father entered the front door, placing a bouquet of flowers in the small pillar vase on the kitchen table. They looked gorgeous with the light coming through the window slits and a white cloth draping the table.

It was today that had been one year since they had renewed their vows. The children had only been four and six when the happy occasion occurred, yet they were able to fully embrace the loveliness of the moment. They served as flower-girl and ring-bearer to their parents. Cubbie was Father’s gift to the children on this most special of anniversaries. He wanted them to feel as special and savor the moment just as much as he and Mother planned to do.

As the children ran inside, Cubbie began to scour the house, looking for who-knows-what in every nook and cranny he could find. He mustered a ton of courage sneaking into Mother’s study, as the door was closed ninety-five percent of the way, and his astute curiosity allowed him to inch his way in there.

The room was spotless. Mother had always epitomized cleanliness. To keep up this trend, Father cleaned and vacuumed this room once a week, in an effort to keep her content and satisfied with his contribution to the household chores. More often than not, he would find her sitting in there, fixing button after button on her sewing machine and sorting her never-ending to-do lists.

Cubbie rushed out of the room as Father shepherded him downstairs and closed the door. The children didn’t even seem to note the importance of the date as being the one on which their parents re-declared their love for one another. They were all-consumed with Cubbie, and could not get enough of his incessant “yip-yips,” as they chased him eagerly around the house. He brought along more of the vitality and effervescence that Father and Mother tried to instill in their children. They wanted them to be happy and enjoy life for all it had to offer – including having a puppy dog and two parents who would always be in love and show it to each other through wonderful gestures, such as their vow renewal.

Later that day, they would carry the bouquet of flowers out back, and place the arrangement in the rose garden Mother had started after the wedding. She had planted all of the flowers that had adorned the canopy under which they were married. The garden looked just beautiful, with roses, tulips, and chrysanthemums lining the back of the house.

The television flipped on in the living room, and the children smiled as a kangaroo hopped across the screen and its baby popped out of the pouch. A man’s Australian accent was then heard:

“The baby is actually called a joey,” the voice explained. “Look how the mother watches the baby as his eyes peek out and look curiously up at her."
The children were fixed intently on the screen, but as Father joined them in the living room, he noticed that the younger of the two children was noticeably sad by the end of the episode. He looked at his son curiously, and asked what was wrong. He sobbed a bit, barely able to say the words that he was thinking in that moment. He finally inhaled and exhaled and was able to utter the cutest, sweetest words Father ever thought he would hear from his youngest child:

“W-w-why c-c-can’t I-i-i r-r-ride i-in a-a p-pouch? M-my n-name i-is J-j-joey.”

Father couldn’t help but want to laugh. He rocked him back and forth, and beckoned his older daughter over to them. As she rubbed her brother’s back, Father explained that Mother was not a kangaroo, and that if either he or she had a pouch, they would definitely carry around their little Joey.

Cubbie laid at the foot of the fireplace, as Father embraced his son, while his daughter found her way into the kitchen to help Mother prepare the special anniversary dinner they would eat together as a family.

As the clouds cleared from the sky, and the sun came into view, the wind began to blow lightly. It was almost as if the heavens were shining down from above, speaking volumes to the family about the inspiration that they proved to be.
The “tinnng, tinnng, tinnng,” whistled once more.

Triple Decker Perspective Writing Prompt #2: A bouquet of flowers, a wind chime, and a kangaroo

“Tinnng, tinnng, tinnng,” whistled in the breeze. Two small children scurried out the front door, eager to play with the new puppy that Father had just brought home.

Cubbie was a small Labrador retriever, eager to jump and bounce around with the children. They ran back and forth, round and round the large front yard, as the greener than green grass was stomped down and eagerly revived when they rushed past.

The wind chime continued to “tinnng,” and father entered the front door, placing a bouquet of flowers in the small pillar vase on the kitchen table. They looked gorgeous with the light coming through the window slits and a white cloth draping the table.

It was today that had been one year since his wife had passed. It was amazing how the breast cancer had enveloped her so quickly. Three years had passed by faster than anyone could have imagined. The children had only been four and six when it had occurred, and slowly but surely, time was passing and life was getting just a bit more bearable. Cubbie was the only thing Father could think of to keep the children from being so unavoidably sad on this most awful of days. Keeping the tension low, and the happy thoughts high, was the best way, in his mind, to soften the blow of this saddest of anniversaries.

As the children ran inside, Cubbie began to scour the house, looking for who-knows-what in every nook and cranny he could find. He mustered a ton of courage sneaking into Mother’s old study, as the door was closed ninety-five percent of the way, and his astute curiosity allowed him to inch his way in there.

The room was spotless. Mother had always epitomized cleanliness. To keep up this trend, Father cleaned and vacuumed this room once a week, in an effort to keep her memory alive. Then he left the door closed for the rest of the week, as he couldn’t handle looking in there and seeing her sitting in her chair, fixing button after button on her sewing machine.

Cubbie rushed out of the room as Father shepherded him downstairs and closed the door. The children didn’t even seem to note the sadness of the date as being the one on which they lost their Mother. They were all-consumed with Cubbie, and could not get enough of his incessant “yip-yips,” as they chased him eagerly around the house. He brought a new vitality and effervescence that had been lacking for the past year. Father had tried his hardest to keep up the energy of his children, but Mother had been their lifeline, their hope, and their faith during their entire childhood. Death was not something they understood as fully as they could have at an older age. They only knew that Mother had left, and was unable to return. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t. Later that day, they would carry the bouquet of flowers to the cemetery three blocks away, and place the arrangement on Mother’s stone. Until then, they would serve as a reminder of the beauty, both within and outside, that Mother brought to each of them.

The television flipped on in the living room, and the children smiled as a kangaroo hopped across the screen and its baby popped out of the pouch. A man’s Australian accent was then heard:

“The baby is actually called a joey,” the voice explained. “Look how the mother watches the baby as his eyes peek out and look curiously up at her."

The children were fixed intently on the screen, but Father noticed that the younger of the two children was noticeably sobbing by the end of the episode. He looked at his daughter curiously, and asked what was wrong. She sobbed a bit more, barely able to say the words that she was thinking in that moment. She finally inhaled and exhaled and was able to utter the most painful words Father ever thought he would hear from his youngest child:

“Iiiii….mmmmmiiiisssss…Mmmmmommmyyyyyyy.”

Those three words cut through his heart. He rocked her back and forth, and beckoned his older son to them. They sat calmly, quietly, the energy that they had once embodied gone.

Cubbie laid at the foot of the fireplace, as Father embraced his children, and tried to impress upon them that all would be okay. And even though he knew it wouldn’t, it was all he could do to make them think so. He wouldn’t let his children down. He was all they had. Life must go on.

As the sky darkened and the wind began to blow, it was almost as if Mother was there, sharing their sadness.

The “tinnng, tinnng, tinnng,” whistled once more.

Note the varying perspectives in the above stories, and try to write your own, either from a different character's viewpoint, a different emotional perspective, or something else entirely.

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