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Start Your Novel Today — With Writing Prompts for the UK Fan!


Hello, friends. I hope you’re well. I see you’re still wearing your Halloween costume. It’s really great, you look exactly like “Hobo Rosie O’Donnell.” Uncanny, really. What’s that? Oh. Now I’m very embarrassed.

Friends, if you’re reading this blog we can only assume you’re a fan of the written word, or that you like pictures of silly people and YouTube videos. Either way, today we’d like to help spur you to accomplish your own dreams of writing. You may or may not be aware that yesterday marked the official beginning of National Novel Writing Month, which challenges aspiring authors to push themselves to reach the lofty goal of completing the rough draft of a 50,000 word novel by the stroke of midnight on December 1. It’s a daunting task, I think we can all agree. But with some good, old fashioned creativity, it’s absolutely not impossible. Maybe you’ve always had a great idea for a novel you’d like to write. Maybe you’ve always wanted to write a novel, but just didn’t have the idea yet. Today, in honor of National Novel Writing Week, we thought we’d toss out some basic Writing Prompts for the UK Fan, to get your creative juices flowing and help you take the important first steps toward your literary stardom. The way this works is very simple: just take one of these lines as your opener (we’re giving them to you) and head onward and upward from there. As always, we’re here to help. So good luck! We look forward to reading your finished manuscripts on December 1 and, as always, have a splendid weekend, gang.



As the clouds swirled ominously overhead and fans ran screaming from the Georgia Dome, Ramon Harris looked up into the heavens and knew there was only one solution; he had to punch that tornado back up into the sky.



“Stop ringing that damn doorbell!” shouted Bobby Knight as he tied his terrycloth robe together and trudged down the stairs to the door, throwing it open to see an eighteen-wheel tractor trailer in his driveway man in a crisp suit reading out of a manila folder. “Mr. Knight,” he said, “I’m here to inform you that according to the last wishes of your great aunt, you are now the caretaker for these seven-thousand kittens.”



Billy Gillispie gulped down four Motrins, swirled the water around to sate his wicked case of cottonmouth and looked around the palatial office to the sounds of crowds cheering outside his window — what on earth had happened last night, and how did he become the President of French Guiana?



Everything was going according to plan until Roy Williams came running out of the crowd, tackling Al Roker to the ground and grabbing the microphone. “Well,” he said, snarling into the NBC cameras, “it looks like I’m in charge of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade now.”



Tony Delk grimaced as he high-fived Derek Anderson and cocked his shotgun, saddling up onto his horse and pulling a ski mask down over his face. “I don’t know about you,” he said to the 6”6’ shooting guard, “but I didn’t come all the way to England not to steal the crown jewels and escape in a rocketship, so let’s do this.”



Dumbledore peered over his glasses and managed a meager smile, resting his hands in his lap. “You’ve come a long way since your first days at Hogwarts,” he said, “and you’ve learned a great deal here. But I’m afraid it’s time for you to face Lord Voldemort once and for all. And I believe you can do it, Bruce Pearl.”



“Well hi there, what’s your name?” he had asked, only sixteen seconds earlier.



Patrick Sparks heard the gentle hum of the time machine in the corner as he traced a line with his finger along the small of his lovers back, whispering gently into her sleeping ear. “You’re a very tender lover, Mrs. Lincoln, but now I have to go…it’s time to murder Adolf Hitler.”


Article written by C.M. Tomlin

All I want is a HI-C and a turkey sandwich. @CM_Tomlin

22 Comments for Start Your Novel Today — With Writing Prompts for the UK Fan!

  1. Isaac in Long Beach
    1:36 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    This is amazing. I wish Tomlin would write a post every day.

  2. Rockfield, KY
    1:43 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    What Isaac said

  3. Austin
    1:43 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    And as the 5 friends looked around at the world that once was, they knew there was only one person who could rid it of all of the empty whiskey bottles littering the streets of Gillespie’s past…. of all the mistresses running rampid around Pitino’s corner…. of all of the monsters emerging from the swamps of Donovan… so they held their fists together and touched their rings chanting, “Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, Heart!” And as their rings touched and their chants began to call, Cali – pari came to the rescue!!!

  4. me
    1:47 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    Ditto Tomlin always makes me laugh out loud.

  5. tltaworl
    1:54 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    On the eve of the last day, he said to her, I will sing one song my dear and one song only. Then they chopped off their tails so they would have friends forever.

  6. T.O. Comlin
    1:57 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    As the sun crept its way thru the drawn blinds, rising in the sky alerting all it was morn, he felt the warmth on his face. He lay dormant in his bed, last nights suit still on, the taste of beer and regret still fresh, crackling and popping on his tastebuds…what had he done last night? The yellow haired monster had appeared from no where he recalled, and after a brief 15 second engagement, he had defeated the beast, leaving behind no witnesses except one very used table cloth…would this encounter come back to haunt him he wondered? Just as he was lost in thought, eyes fixed firmly towards the ceiling, a millisecond away from full out daze, his phone rings, and alas, its Tim Fuller, or as this brash New Yorker would refer to him, “Thine Savior”.

  7. Douggercats
    2:07 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    The tiny troll approached the hulking beast, with quivering hands and baited breath, and heard the words that would ring through his head for the rest of his life…”You know I don’t like you, right?”

  8. Matt Jones
    2:14 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    Awesome stuff

  9. Raazoul
    2:23 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    “Well hi there, what’s your name?” he had asked, only sixteen seconds earlier. “Karen” said the drunken shrew as she climbed down off the table. “Are you finished?” she stuttered. “Hand me that towel please…”

  10. Lee Todd
    2:31 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    Tomlin always brings it.

  11. Carl
    2:32 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    Actually, I just finished a novel on Kentucky basketball, which I am in the process of having edited by a professional editor, prior to searching for a literary agent and publisher. I sent an email to Matt several months ago asking about the possibility of a review of the book by KSR, but have not gotten a response. So, I’ll ask again. I also asked Matt for information on advertising rates, but I didn’t hear back on that either.



  12. KBF
    2:59 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    and then #11, Carl, started typing. He voiced his frustrations about the “awkard stand-off-ishness” he received from KSR and Matt Jones when inquiring about reviews and ad rates. He typed slowly at first… one word.. then a phrase.. and soon a sentence. One sentence led to another and he suddenly was feverishly typing, pouring his heart and soul out into his comment. Ten paragraphs later he had voiced all of his emotions and feelings similar to an ex-fiance at a dream wedding. He told Matt about how much he hated when he cuts people off on the call-in shows. He even blasted him for the annoying nose-whistle. His finger shook nervously as he was about to press the submit comment button. He panicked. He started erasing the cheap shots and low blows. Then suddenly, in one of those “lightning strikes the key on a kite” idea moments, he put in a fake name and a fake email address. He was suddenly more confident. He put back in some of the subtle jabs. One by one they were all put back in. He was bouncing around like Sean Woods after the bank shot. Then BAM! It all came crashing down like a Laettner shot and he realized KSR wouldn’t know who he was if he used a fake name and email. It just simply wouldn’t work. So he once again removed all the jabs and simply asked his two questions again. Maybe, possibly, perhaps, KSR might respond to him this time. God bless him. We’re all hoping.

  13. KBF
    3:03 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    …and with all that effort by #12, he too tried to sneak in a link to his website in the comments, but like a horse’s ass, he misspelled his own site URL making the link not work. So he regrouped and typed it correctly in this second attempt (this one), much like Coach Cal corrected his mistakes in Championship games against Kansas, getting it right the second time around.

  14. MustangCat
    3:27 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    And Patrick turned for one last glance at his sleeping beauty, and said in a hushed whisper: yes, Mrs. Lincoln. That dress does indeed make your butt look big.

  15. Thomas
    3:43 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    “Someone look at me!!!!” exclaimed little brother. He was tired of it. He was tired of living in the shadow of the his 2 older siblings, Indiana and Kentucky. All of his life, he had to sit on the sidelines, watching accomplishment after accomplishment. It seemed for big brothers, the banners, the rings, the attention came easy for them, like Rick Pitino at an Itailian place.

    Little brother sat there, holding his breath, but alas, no one noticed, and he gave in, taking in enough wind to fill all the empty seats at the Yum center in the 2nd half of yet another Kentucky blowout victory. He reflects, asking himself what went wrong? The first 80 some odd years were terrible, watching both UK and IU win titles, UK players coaching and playing in OLympics. But Eureeka, Nineteen Hundred and Eighty came, and finally little brother won his title. He was thrilled, and 6 years later, way back in NineTeen Hundred and Eighty-Six, little brother brought home yet another.

    Little brother grew confident, some would even say arrogant, little brother started to think this was his time, so little brother and his gang of misfits started to pick at big brother. Little brother wasnt gonna take it anymore, and Little Brother would do anything for attention, anything for that long lost feeling of winning a title. Hire whats left of Big Brother’s old used tired coach? Check. Whats that you say, you want to play a football game on a Tuesday morning? Check. L1C4? You bet your ass.

    But as time ticked on, like it always does, the cold cruel reality set in. 5 years, 10 years, 15 years, 20 years, 25 years have gone by, and yet still no titles. A senior in college has yet to witness a Little Brother championship.

    Some say on cold quiet nights, if you listen closely, you can hear the cries of Little Brother, his soul bouncing from league to league in an endless limbo, you can hear the Crown Royal velvet ropes being untied, you can hear the turtlenecks slightly grazing chubby necks, you can smell Papa Johns Pizza and designer imposter cool water cologne.

    All hope is lost, for Little Brother is damned to be Little Brother….forever.

  16. Carl
    4:35 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    Well done, KBF, #12. You should apply for a guest column on the blog.


  17. Mike
    4:45 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    This was literally the funniest thing ever written on KSR. Carl, on the other hand, is an idiot.

  18. Carl
    4:55 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    Thanks, Mike. Hugs to you too.


  19. GapToothDanny
    6:43 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    Novel III, working title “The Hangover Part 3”

  20. KBF
    7:17 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    No, Carl is not an idiot. I too have requested ad rates many times without a reply. It is frustrating to get ignored.

  21. Ibescootch
    11:22 pm November 2, 2012 Permalink

    Tomlin is the Jane Austen of middlebrow media writing.

  22. Mike
    5:45 pm November 3, 2012 Permalink

    Carl, I will concede that it’s a little ridiculous that you can’t get ad time for a novel on UK basketball while I’m getting a ads on the site for “Asian women speed dating”. That’s a little too “Rick Pitino” for my tastes.