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Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Writing Prompt 9/15/10: Breakfast

By Marilyn Friedman

Start your day out with a delicious, nutritious writing class! We've added a Friday a.m. section of SYWBW/Finishing School for those of you who have a flexible schedule.

Also, in honor of Fall, we have discounted our prices for September and October. Take advantage of our fantastic classes and retreat at new, affordable rates! Write that book, short story, or screenplay that you've always dreamed of finishing. We can help you do it. Call 323-333-2954 before these classes are full.

Writing Prompt: Make a list of your five favorite breakfast foods. Pick one and write about it for 10 minutes. Make sure to include some sensory detail about that breakfast food (smell, taste, sound, touch, sight). Then post your results in the comments of this blog.

Here are some ideas for what to write about: describe what the breakfast food tastes like in great detail, discuss why you think it is the most superior breakfast food, or describe what happened the last time you ate it (a breakup, your morning routine, witnessing something at a cafe or restaurant). Use this poem as inspiration for your writing if you like.

Breakfast (Love Poem) by Ian Beckett

Orange squeezed, tea brewed, bacon fried

Self showered, beard shaved, robe wrapped

Wife kissed, tea brought, eyes rubbed

Juice sipped, toast munched, day discussed

Sugar stirred, tea drunk, watch checked

Kids rattled, cornflakes spooned, plates emptied

Mum fussed, kids grumped, teeth cleaned

Noses wiped, shoes on-ed, lunch packed

Stragglers awayed, byes waved, friends greeted

Office called, PC packed, car started

Wife snuggled, door closed, journey begun.

Comment on this blog! Write about breakfast. The best mini-story of August/September will win a free class! All comments will receive likes and remembers from Marilyn.


Anonymous said...

Breakfast for Dinner
Victoria R. Pearson

I just finished having breakfast for dinner. Growing up it was my favorite. Eggs with toast, butter and jam, and sometimes even one of those frozen Ego waffles you put in a toaster. So now thirty years later I still have breakfast for dinner just to remind me I can. Going against the grain can be so liberating. We often hear about going outside the box in our daily lives as we are constantly being called on to be creative and gain the competitive edge. Whether in business, charity or athletics we are called upon to come up with ways to do things a little less unconventional. Many people get uncomfortable with that concept, and put it in the same category as change. But to me change and doing things a different ways is what makes us grow as individuals and a community. Doing things differently can deliver different results, and whether they are good or turn out less than perfect, they still demonstrate how to improve by offering a comparison. We need more of this movement and thinking in our world. We face so many overwhelming issues and can sense futility at every turn. But the truth is sometimes you just have to try something different, or change the sequence of things to see what would happen. You may call it maverick but I call it progressive and innovative. And it is that sort of action that can make our community and world a better place. So the next time you’ve had a long day or are feeling overwhelmed, whip up a batch of eggs, add some cheese and spread a little jam on your toast. You may discover yourself smiling remembering that you can make a difference just by taking a contrary action.

Writing Pad said...

I loved your piece! I love knowing that having breakfast for dinner was the narrator's favorite as a child. I love the specific list of things the narrator eats: Eggs with toast, butter and jam, frozen Eggo waffles. I love how strongly the narrator feels about eating breakfast for dinner and how it represents her change embracing personality. I also love the idea that "whipping up a batch of eggs, adding some cheese and spreading jam on your toast" could help make our community a better place. :)



Mary Lorraine said...

Bowls of strawberries, plates of pancakes too
My Mom kept the spread out til' Saturday afternoon
Pre teen girls sleepy eyed and green
Carelessly eating a bounty they were used to seeing

Then the Dining halls, or at the house of Tridelt
Bagels or omelettes, whatever you felt
The biggest stressor was the exam the next day
With no realization of impending adulthood creeping your way

Tiny apartments, tiny paychecks, responsibility is real
Saturday breakfast is always the leftovers from Fridays meal
Fruit is expensive, that could be gas money for my car
Why spend cash on OJ? I'd rather save it for the bar

Home for the Holidays thanks to Dad's gift of miles
I land at 6am and wipe my eyes to see my niece's big smile
They eagerly ask if I'm hungry and I'm so tired I feel dead
But then my mouth begins to water at the thought of Mom's spread

Writing Pad said...

Mary Lorraine,

Great poem! I love how breakfast becomes the marker for the narrator's progression through life--pre-teen, college, adulthood and the different specific breakfasts that the narrator eats at those stages of life. I love the rhymes. I love that fruit is expensive and the narrator would rather spend money on gas and that she opts for going to the bar rather than buying OJ. I also love how it loops back to the Mom's breakfast at the end. Fabulous!


Writing Pad said...

OK, here is mine. It's kind of silly, kind of gross, but it was fun to write!


Breakfast Is for Lovers

For the hotcakes who’ve laid
on me like a short stack,
for those who’ve fresh squeezed
my juice, creamed my coffee, rolled
and gravied my biscuits, for the sausage
links I’ve oven baked till the meat
was no longer pink inside, for the ones
I’ve wrapped in the sheets like a breakfast
burrito, for those who’ve waffled with me under
quilted blankets for hours, for the rancheros
who’ve seen my huevos sunny side up,
for the ones with the skin the shade of white
or wheat toast, for the ones who’ve munched
my muffin tops, unhusked me like a tamale,
then happily devoured my masa flesh,
chiles, cheese, meat, and all

H.M.R. said...

(Sorry for the previous deletes!)

I Wanted to Surprise You

Butter burned on the griddle
Batter sags in a mound
Coffee getting cold on the counter
Bacon listless on the ground
Oranges are sliced and rotting
Toast just starting to flame
Table is set and waiting
It’s you that never came.

Writing Pad said...


I love your poem! I love how you used the details of the setting to experience the narrator's sadness/disappointment. I love the butter burning on the griddle, coffee getting cold, bacon listless on the ground. I also really love your rhyme with
flame and came! Very clever and natural sounding! Thanks for posting!


Writing Pad said...

Here's another poem this prompt inspired:

Breakfast is for Lovers Pt II

Breakfast should be shared
with those who love in spite
of imperfection, I sit, brain muddled,
eyes crusted, sipping coffee, naked face
painted with drool, cockatoo hair
style, unquaffed, unperfumed,
vulnerable in my bunny slippers
and terry cloth robe, only a trusted few
get this view, not those that would fry
me up in judgment, how I love those lazy
weekend mornings at our kitchen table,
eating mushroom frittata and fruit salad,
squinting at life under the jeweler’s
eyeglass, we stew in last night’s underwear,
hold hands, and I feel like I’m home.

Victoria said...

Thanks Marilyn!

Natalie Kottke said...

Love your post, Marilyn!

Two eggs over medium with a side of buttery whole wheat toast is perfection. Simple, indeed, but absolutely delectable hitting the tongue, tasting the warm yolk, but wait. You must dip the toast in the yellow goo before really digging in. Two eggs over medium is the type of breakfast that you can count on, like your parents, well like most parents. It’s 100% satisfaction guaranteed. I know exactly what I’m getting. Every time. But, I still get that tingly feeling in my stomach before the dish arrives, it could be confused with hunger, but there’s a distinct difference with tingles, and this one is one of excitement, and anticipation. Once the plate arrives, I tend to stare at the two planetary looking like oddities, take my toast, lather it with warm butter, and begin to dip. But, that’s not all, the next next step is the mini sandwich tactic. Using half the bread and a quarter of one of the eggs, I wrap it up, and voila, now you have an entirely new experience for your palette. Soft, sticky, oozing, warming the belly until lunch.

Ian said...

Hi - Glad you like my poem "Breakfast" published in my book Reflections on the road - available from Amazon 978-1409271048 and from

another taste..... from a book of the same name...

Butterflies before you sit the final exam,
Butterflies before you go for a job interview,
Butterflies before you ask her out on a date,
Butterflies before you kiss her for the first time,
Butterflies before you propose two will be one,
Butterflies before you meet her family,
Butterflies before you see her all in white,
Butterflies before you make that big speech,
Butterflies before you see that your baby is OK,
Butterflies before you get news from the doctor,
Butterflies before you lose your job again,
Butterflies before you face any little crisis,

But -

No butterflies for breakfast.

Happy Christmas