A photographer’s lens can offer a precisely edited view of the world, and raise questions about why they chose to capture that particular scene rather than another, as well as what exists beyond that frame.

Look at any instagram feed and you’ll receive an artfully skewed impression of a life. What does the selection of shared images tell you about the photographer? Why is this the story they’ve chosen to tell? What might they have opted to leave out?

If you look at your own photos, what themes or preoccupations can you spot? What does this suggest?

Can you use this to inspire a tale?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

This statue in port of Kaleici, Antalya, is of a sea captain named Mustafa Ekizler, who lived here between 1905 and 2000. Mustafa is famed for having been present at “numerous events” including the 1919-21 Italian Occupation and Turkish-Greek exchange. He earned his living from the sea for 85 years, but is mostly renowned for bearing witness, and is regarded as an icon of the area’s tumultuous history.

My favourite thing about this statue, however, is the bronze dove on the captain’s shoulder. What better way to prevent pigeons crapping on your monument than by suggesting that job’s already taken? In fact, the dove is there to symbolise peace, and is so covetable that it’s been stolen twice previously.

If someone created a commemorative statue of you, what should be sitting on your shoulder? What could it symbolise?

Can you use this to inspire a tale?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

Growing up in the UK, I grew up with the idea of Hadrian’s Wall cutting through rolling green fields resembling something like a humble version of the Great Wall of China. I imagined Hadrian building it, or at the very least overseeing its production.

In Turkey, I came face-to-face with an artefact that puts that into some doubt – Hadrian’s Gate – a grand entry to the Old Town of Antalya, a foot-polished, tourist-magnet we passed through most days, and which Roman emperor Hadrian probably never laid eyes on.

Imagine if an edifice was named after you. What would you like it to be? How would you feel if it was something you found out about accidentally, without having been told about it, let alone had anything to do with its creation.

How would you feel on visiting it for the first time?

Can you turn this concept into a story?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

While visiting Antalya, Turkey, in September, we explored the excellent Ethnographic Museum. One of the displays shows a series of ceramics, including the 17th century tile shown in my photo.

The reason this is remarkable is because of secrecy. An information plaque beside the tiles mentions that the craftsmen kept their ways of creating and obtaining colours a closely guarded secret, to the extent that the knowledge about how to make the lovely coral reds has now gone forever.

Imagine if a crucial piece of contemporary knowledge was lost in this way. What aspect of cultural or comfortable modern life would impact you most if it disappeared? Can you use this perturbing thought in a work of fiction?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

The rising cost of living in my home city is pricing people out of their houses and into tent villages. It’s a phenomenon I’ve seen before, both here and abroad, but never on this growing scale. Local parks are becoming homes for residents with few other options.

These are often people with jobs forced out by rocketing rents.

Can you write a tale that examines this problem and finds some kind of solution? How would it feel to be in this position? How would you retain your equilibrium in this situation?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

On one of the sunniest mornings of the season, I saw this paintbrush on a wall.

Nothing I could see nearby had been painted yellow. It’s a shade that reminds me of butter, lemon curd, sandy beaches and the sun.

Could this brush have been used to paint summer?

Can you turn this into an intriguing tale that veers away from the saccharine sweet to explore something about childhood or growing up?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

I spotted this vintage VW Beetle resting in a field near Burton. I rather like the way looks like it’s been put out to pasture after a hard working life. It certainly has views worth pausing to soak up now. I can envision it trundling around on the grass admiring bumblebees nosing in buttercups and generally enjoying some relaxation.

Imagine the people who might have driven or ridden in this vehicle. You could put a sinister twist on a tale by imagining they travelled here for a picnic. What occurred that led to them abandoning their car? Bucolic scenes like this are ripe for uncanny happenings!

Whether you choose to go dreamy, comic or scary, turn this scene into a tale.

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

Turning on to a path in my favourite urban wilderness, I almost walked directly into this levitating caterpillar. It looks like a box tree caterpillar. Intriguingly the plant it’s hanging from seems to be a box tree that’s growing through a sycamore, with the trunks winding around each other.

I thought they might dangle from threads to evade predators, but apparently the thread is their version of an escalator. It helps them ascend to fresh tasty leaves and catch the breeze to nearby plants once they’ve stripped all the box leaves (or simply made them all curl up and die) from their home.

Imagine if our chosen transportation was to emit a silky thread and catch the next waft of wind! What chance encounters might occur?

Can you explore this idea in a story? It could even turn into a #clifi tale, examining how we could escape once we’ve stripped our planet of its resources.

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

This pair of generously proportioned, detached bug houses boasts green areas front and back and landing space for countless inhabitants.

I’ve been reading a lot of estate agency blurbs recently and it’s beginning to affect how I view the world.

Landlords across the UK are selling up as mortgage rates diminish their profits. Tenants, myself included, are left facing the fact that the rental market appears to have imploded, making home purchase necessary, however unfeasibly expensive that may be.

Can you write a tale where a family faces notice on the home they’ve shared for years? Where will they go? How will they keep themselves safe?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.

Every August in Bristol the chance of seeing a sky filled with hot air balloons rises. This is mainly due to the annual Balloon Fiesta, which took place last weekend, but on any day when the wind isn’t too vigorous, you’re likely to see a few passing overhead.

I snapped this photo early one Monday morning, sharing the moment with a few dog-walkers and a woman doing tai-chi. The balloons made everyone pause and smile.

What if this cheerful sight wasn’t a celebration but an exodus? What if something had occurred prompting people to leave, and the safest way to travel was via balloon?

What could have happened? Where might these people be going? What could befall the folks left behind watching from the ground? Can you write a piece in that most challenging genre, the hopeful dystopia?

To add a touch of humour, can you think of who the worst possible person would be to share a balloon basket with for a long flight?

If you write or create something prompted by this idea, please let me know by emailing judydarley (at) iCloud.com. I’d love to know the creative direction you choose.