Advice is great, but advice on its own won’t make you a better writer. We become better writers by writing and it’s always easier to write when we’re inspired. To that end, a creative prompt using an ordinary item.
This week’s ordinary item: Wool sweaters from Oliver Charles
What are they? These are wool sweaters made using a fiber called khullu which comes from the underbelly of high elevation Tibetan Yak.
Two yaks on a mountain, then what?
While we have a tendency to make the story about ourselves, thinking of all the places we’ll go in these sweaters and how warm we’ll be in even the harshest conditions, there is always another side.
In this case, the other side is high up on a mountainside, where two yaks live.
The same two yaks whose soft under down will grow in the fall, shed in the spring, and then eventually be collected, processed and turned into khullu fiber.
This is the fiber used by Oliver Charles (big thanks to them for allowing us to feature them), to create their wool sweaters. After reading about the process, we were left with one question - who are these two yaks?
The task for you is to come up with a creative short story about these two yaks. (see below for a few tips to keep you focused)
Remember: have fun with the exercise, push the boundaries, look at this “ordinary” item in an uncommon way. Most importantly, write something!
Two yaks are on a mountain, then: __________________ .
Not sure where to start? Some prompts to get the creativity flowing…
What are their names?
Are they related? What is the relationship between the two of them?
Do they understand that their wool gets turned into sweaters? Do they wish they could wear sweaters?
What things in life give them joy?
What hopes and dreams do they have?
Do they ever get called mean names?
What’s the most interesting thing they’ve ever found while wandering the high mountainsides?
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An exercise in writing short headlines (10 comments already)
A short story about lemonade (8 comments already)
A creative prompt using a hand-carved wooden bowl (6 comments already)
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The winter winds of the upper Himalayan plateau blew unabated for 10 days straight. Temperatures plummeted, testing the sturdiest of both man and beast. Even the small herd of Tibetan Yaks huddled together to conserve the meager amount of warmth that escaped their furry bodies. The herdsman, Tenzin, had not moved from beside his fire pit, the embers long cold, as the first rays of the morning sun appeared over the peaks.
One of the younger yaks, Nyima, observing the unusual behavior of Tenzin said, "There is no smoke, no boiling pot of water for his morning tea?"
"Yes, it is not normal", replied Gyatso, "He has not even bothered to gather the wood and dung to make his fire." Gyatso had been with the herd many years and knew the patterns of their herdsman well.
Gyatso left the group of yaks and walked over to Tenzin's still body. Nyima, reluctant to leave the warmth of the herd, finally couldn't hold back his curiousty and joined the older yak by the side of Tenzin. Sniffing and nuzzling the motionless form, Gyatso saw that there were shallow breaths still coming from Tenzin.
"He is cold," said Gyatso, "he has no one to lay with him and share their their warmth."
"Maybe one of his brothers will come," said Nyima, "and they will help him." "Let us get back to our own group before the same happens to us."
"No, I will stay with him," replied Gyatso, "there is no one else and he will die without us." He lowered himself to the ground, putting his warm Khullu underbelly fur up against the body of Tenzin. Nyima hestitated, but then with a sigh lay down on the other side of their herdsman, wrapping him completely in the warm fibers.
Later that day when the men from the village had climbed the ridge to check on Tenzin they were amazed to find him alive, and Gyatso and Nyima still laying beside him. They marveled at the warmth of the underbelly fibers that had kept their friend alive.
As the two yaks watched the villagers helping Tenzin back down the trail Nyima remarked, "Why did you want to save him? He takes our milk, he takes our fur. What do we ever get from him?"
Gyatso turned and looked at Nyima. "You are young and may not understand yet, but our herdsman watches over us, protects us, defends us from the beasts that would attack us. Would we not give him this small gift in return?"
Nyima pondered this as they walked back to rejoin the herd and realized Gyatso had spoken true. He felt now in the Spring he wouldn't mind as much when the gathered the yaks to comb the soft Khullu fur from their underbellys. It was a gift he could give.
For Richard the Yak, purpose had never come into question. As his high school classmates graduated and moved on to their dead-end jobs working in fast food or call centers, Richard pitied their purpose. It had been discarded along with the graduation robes so many seasons ago.
Granted, not every one of his yak friends had given up on their dreams and resigned to the same boring 9-5 yak jobs, but the majority had. Several had never even left the herd to see the entire mountainside like he was blessed to. How could they be pleased with themselves and find meaning in their boring work lives?
Richard had always believed he was destined for a meaningful job. It wasn’t that he was better than other yaks, just happier. Since he was young, he and his big brother Lionel had been recruited by Oliver Charles to use their soft down underbellies for creation. Every summer, as they stopped by the barbershop for their annual trim, they knew their lost down would be combed, cleaned, and massaged into becoming a down sweater, the softest of their kind.
This gave meaning to the hard winters that plagued the Siberian mountainside. As other yaks punched in and punched out with their faded time cards, Richard and Lionel can focus on their families and friends, knowing that every year, with the end of winter comes their purpose.
And that makes all the difference.