How do you write? For me, I often write with music. But what happens when you’re in the middle of a sad scene and some crazy Hans Zimmer starts playing? Ever wonder what it would be like to write based on music?

That’s exactly what this exercise (activity? Thing?) is! Turn on your Spotify, Pandora, iTunes, whatever, and start an instrumental radio station. It can be based off of a favorite composer, soundtrack, or song. 

And then, once you hit play, you just start writing. First thing that comes to mind, let the story go and let it take shape as the music juristics. It may end up weird, it may not make sense, but the point isn’t to write an amazing story. It’s just to write.

After 10-15 minutes, wrap it up and call it good!

Mine’s below, and the song titles are there incase you want to hear what I was hearing!




*** Battle of Heroes (Starwars)***

The plans were open, wind blowing across the grassy meadow and unshaven beard of the general. The soil in his hands had dried to a powdered layer of dirt, giving him better grip of his sword when he’d need to draw it. The line of horses trotted in place, their hearts picking up with every beat of their riders anticipating hearts. This battle would be new for all of them, for facing other humans was easy, but facing this… this would be something new entirely. With raised weapons and (last cheers) the army charged toward their vicarious enemy.

***Pavane for a Dead Apatosaurus (Jurassic World)*** 

Upon seeing that the proclaimed monster was but an elderly man with a bunny on his shoulder, the men came to a grinding halt, aside from Arnick. Still trotting with caution, General Arnick approached the man, and offered a verbal greeting.

With a broad smile and a nod, the man replied.

His sword still at the ready by his side, Arnick asked, “Are you the one persecuting our village?”

“I am,” the man replied, smile still on his face.

His presence was full of gentleness giving his response a grace that seemed unobtainable for what he said.

“You’re not more than an aged man.”

“And you suspect my age is what will determines my desire for vengeance?”

The hooves of the village-armies horses trotted in place behind them. Hundreds of men had come out to find this one, deadly and dangerous…force. But what they saw, what they all saw, was anything but a deadly force.

“Who sent you here?” Arnick asked.

***Welcome to Lunar Industries***

“I sent myself.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He moved his horse into a trot, approaching the man with the bunny.

“Who?” Arnick asked again, the pommel of his sword still held tightly in his left hand.

“Don’t cross this forest threshold,” the man warned.

But the warning didn’t slow Arnick, not for a step.

“Who?” He asked once more, this time without restraining his tongue.

“You’ve been warned.” That defiling smile across the man’s face turned to a sharp line as Arnick crossed the threshold.

From the other side of the forest, the army could not see what Arnick now faced. All across the trees, on every skin of bark, splattered throughout the hands of the leaves, were two things. Two horrible horrible things Arnick couldn’t have imagined.

“I warned you.” The man’s voice was no longer human, let alone was he anything but human.

The cries of Arnick fell on deaf ears as the militia began to question what was happing beyond the threshold because a darkness had fallen over the tree line, swallowing their leader up in shadows.

Braving the forest, the first squadron entered together only to find the blood of their leader all over the tangled roots and moss below them.

 ***Elsa and Anna (FROZEN (Oh boy.)) ***

It was cheerful to be feasting again, especially on such confident individuals. But it wasn’t out of spite that its taste buds were wet with blood. No, it was indeed hired–Arnick had that much correct before The Hin’s black tenticals speared him from the trees and absorbed what remained.

The Hin was hired by the people of the village south of the forest, to offer a peace treaty between the two tribes. But, under orders, if such a peace could not be met, The Hin was to do what it did best.

*** Capture of Tirllian *** 

Having killed off most of the men, The Hin moved through the forest. It’s ten-thousand gooping black tentacles latching from tree to tree as it hunted for those who tried to seek safety on the other side. The cuts it bore for those who were able to strike stung, but the taste of their…everything, made it all worth it.

All seemed to be dead, until the footsteps of one helpless soul remained sprinting through the forsaken woods. One last person to fill The Hin’s appetite. But he was a clever one, moving only when he had too, but calming himself when he needed to remain hidden. And The Hin couldn’t smell fear on him—no, it couldn’t smell anything on him at all.


Ravel kept his sword in hand, the clanging of it while against his leg would have attracted to much attention. And with one way out, he needed to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

***It begins (The Avengers: Age of Ultron)***

The slithering blackness of The Hin oozed around the trees next to him. The creature was moving further into the forest, foolishly thinking he was hiding there.

As much as he wanted to, Ravel didn’t strike the beast while he could. One jab and that ugly octopus head of black slime and a hundred eyes would be dripping from the tree tops.

Being the last one alive, though, he didn’t plan on escaping without killing the thing that plagued his hometown village either, and hopefully also killing the feud between tribes at the same time. That would be a nice bonus, but it wasn’t the main reason he joined this hunt.

Ravel hurried to the north side of the forest. There was only one way to kill a monster like this.


———————–READ MORE—————————-



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