A few days ago I posted a message to my kids about things I want them to know. One of them was to write. I’ve always enjoyed writing, and I keep a hand written journal. But I don’t take the time to write particularly well. It’s just a heart/brain spew of thoughts on to the page. Just to get it down. Writing helps me process what ever is spinning around in my head, and I also like being able to read back over it all in years to come. Lately I’ve written something daily and it’s becoming a good record of the minutiae of life. But still, most of it is not good writing, and it’s written only for me.
I have written the odd piece of poetry from time to time, but I find it difficult most of the time. Occasionally it will flow and I’ll be pleased with it but most of the time I struggle and give up. Here’s one I wrote in 2007 called I Am From.
However, I’ve had a desire to write more creatively, or should I say more purposefully. Every time I see a blank page, I can almost hear it begging for words. Begging for a story. I really want to write. I love words. A friend of mine is writing a book and has asked me to read over her manuscript as she goes and critique it. I am loving doing this! I’m in word heaven!
I’m not sure if I have any talent for creative writing, but I’m going to enjoy spending a little time being creative with words. I feel like I need a little inspiration and guidance, so I found this free online Creative Writing course. It has a basic overview of the main genres and writing exercises to get the words flowing. Something to get me started.
Anyway, I attempted some of the exercises and surprised myself. I’m not sure it was good, but that I came up with something was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t have any trouble finding the words. So….here’s my words.Write down your first response to these words or phrases: Blue ball And that’s when the sadness came Coffee
- Blue Ball – It was shiny and new and I wrapped my sweaty grubby fingers around it. I brought it up to my face and with it pressed into my palm, inhaled that plasticky new smell. The owning of something new was such an excitement to me and I reveled in the thought that it was mine and no one else’s. I didn’t have to give it back with a pang of disappointment, or hide it from view in case my mother discovered it and ordered me to give it back to its’ rightful owner. It was mine and I was delighted that I could enjoy it all to myself. I was discovering ownership for the very first time.
- And that’s when the sadness came – It sank down into my heart with a heaviness I had never known. It felt like a cold wet towel, and chilled my arms and made them feel weak and watery. I didn’t cry. It was too heavy for that. It just dragged me, downwards and backwards, like forever walking against the tide.
- Coffee – “Ah, yes, time for coffee” he said. He smiled as I placed the cup down. I watched him reach out and hold is as he always did, in two hands, with fingertips and as he carefully brought it to his mouth. I hid my smile as I realised what was slightly strange about it. He drinks like a child, I thought, carefully with two hands in case he was to spill it on the journey from the table to his lips.