Triple decker writing prompts
are similar to
the six degrees of Kevin Bacon.

Have you ever played? It definitely helps you learn how to write with the triple decker writing prompts on this page. Even if you haven't played, here's the gist of the game. Supposedly, he is easily connected to other people in the entertainment industry through a mere six degrees of separation (sometimes even less!). Why don't we test this theory out? How about Kevin Bacon and Brad Pitt?

Brad Pitt was in "Seven" with Morgan Freeman who was in "The Bucket List" with Jack Nicholson who was in "A Few Good Men" with Kevin Bacon

That's three!

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Writing is just like these degrees of separation. There are connections between everything. There are ways to know people and things and to find an understanding and an appreciation with them. You must accept the notion that you are the creator of your own work. You can do with your writing what you will, and create your very own fantasy or reality -- whichever you may prefer.

Try picking through some of the following writing prompts so you can begin writing your very own stories that use these ideas. Each prompt contains three different items that you should include in the same story, poem, or other motivational piece that you choose to write. Check out the creative writing examples also, and check back often for more triple decker writing prompts, as I like to call them. Just keep stacking the layers of writing with each new addition to your story. Pepper some of your own triple decker ideas in for the fun of it.

You also might encourage yourself to limit your stories to 500 words to see what you can accomplish with fewer words, but if you go over, keep writing...don't limit yourself if you have more to say!

Choose from some of these:

a bowl of goldfish, a man in black, and a train
a kangaroo, a bouquet of flowers, a wind chime
a set of candlesticks, a grandfather clock, a tree stump
a flat tire, crepe paper, white roses
cinnamon ice cream, a teddy bear, a picture frame
a kitchen towel, a pigpen, pistachio shells
a spoonful of sugar, a roaring fire, a glass eye
a night light, the funny pages (cartoons), three rubber bands
a screwdriver, a blade of grass, a kitchen tile
a schoolbus, a lady in red, a priest
sand, a videotape, a plane ticket
an opened envelope, eight dollars, a lipstick print
a Tic-Tac-Toe game, a styrofoam cup, a kitten
a bagel, a heating duct, a suitcase

A friend of mine wrote a story using the first prompt for a writing group she joined. You can link to her writing blog here if you want to check out more great writing. Here is her piece:

Runaway Train
By Kristen Berry

It had been another hasty escape, which was why I found myself on the last train out of Chicago with a fishbowl on my lap. It had been frighteningly easy to smuggle it onboard, with only a trench coat thrown on top. Each time the train veered, water splashed against the fabric, soaking it with murky, fishy water. I repeatedly lifted the coat to make sure Coltrane hadn’t flopped to the floor. I’d left Jeremy a thousand times before, but I’d shown him that I was serious this time; I’d taken the fish with me.

“Is that a goldfish in your lap?” the man across the aisle asked, amused.

“No,” I replied briskly. But when he continued eyeing the odd bulge under the coat, I sighed and unveiled it.

“What’s his name?” the man asked. He was a generically handsome business traveler. He smiled at me the way the guys at the diners I worked at often did, like they thought if they tipped me enough I might go home with them.

“Coltrane,” I said.

“Odd name for a fish. How’d you come to that?”

“It’s the only thing we had in common. Jazz.”

“You and who?”

“Me and the man I’m leaving.”

The man nodded, as if this made perfect sense.

“Going to Ann Arbor?”

“Detroit.”

“You should stop with me in Ann Arbor for dinner. I know a great place.”

“It’ll be two in the morning when we get there.”

The man smiled. “I’ll take you to the train station in the morning.” He said this like I should’ve jumped at the chance, as if a woman like me should’ve been flattered instead of insulted.I sighed and tapped a fingernail against the fishbowl. Coltrane came immediately to me, his mouth opening and closing in a silent warning.

“So this man of yours,” the man said, “why are you leaving him?”

“He’s a friend of Tina.”

“What?”

“A meth head. He’s a meth head.”

“Oh,” the man replied. I’d hoped this revelation would disgust him, but he only seemed more intrigued. “What’s your addiction?” he asked.

“Assholes, apparently.” I re-covered Coltrane with the coat and turned to the darkness passing outside my window.

My mother would’ve been thrilled if I showed up back in town with a man like that. She didn’t realize that assholes came in all kinds. Sometimes they were hopeless stoners like Jeremy who wore caution signs on their foreheads, but they could also be like this guy, professional types in $300 shoes who asked you to bed before asking your name. The train was speeding toward a thousand I-told-you-sos, but I didn’t care; at least I’d be away from him.

But when the train reached the station, Jeremy was standing there, waiting for me. He must have pushed the old Lincoln like hell to beat the train. My traitorous heart was happy to see him, but he was dressed all in black, like a bad omen.

I bet you can think of some of your own triple decker writing prompts. Go ahead. Savor every moment that you become inspired and write whatever pops into your head. You'll find your very own rhythm before you know it.

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