And so, I got two emails recently. One from a writer friend asking how NaNoWriMo is going, and one from another writer friend about a probably inaccessible writing retreat that promised to unleash my creativity.
Well. I got news.
My creativity is fine. I don’t need a writing retreat. What I need is a baby-sitter and a drink. And possibly someone to unplug the Netflix. Saying that, check out these 30 ways Netflix can improve your writing.
And so, I’m conflicted.
I just need to use all the time I don’t sleep.
My writing excuses this week involve a bunch of family time and fireworks.
It was Bonfire Night on the 5th. And instead of going into the office when Neil left it, we all bundled up and went out.
Now, fireworks and my fright reflex have always been an interesting mix.
I like fireworks, but they kinda don’t like me.
As a kid, on the Fourth of July or at the local carnival or anywhere else that involved fireworks, I would kinda pop along with them. My butt would leave my seat or my ankles would twitch, and by the end I considered it a work out.
See, loud noises and I were never friends. I would use the lead up to the pop to work on not jumping when it popped. There’s a life lesson or something in there, but I haven’t figured it out yet.
And once I got used to the fireworks, I could actually enjoy them. Counted off people’s birthdays and waited for the ones that looked like pompoms.
Last week, after the bonfire went up, we turned around for the fireworks. I counted off birthdays and made wishes and swivelled between the fireworks and Isla’s face watching the fireworks.
They played 80s music during the display, which at the time I though was meant to be, but now realize it was a mix CD, or probably a playlist. When did CDs get old, too?
Anyway, I was in a time warp the whole time. Instead of Isla on Neil’s shoulders, it was me on my Dad’s. Instead of Isla’s Twirl bar (which probably had more actual chocolate in it), it was a Milky Way that tasted like home.
I tried to get a photo of the fireworks, and couldn’t time it right, but this one of my family watching the bonfire was perfect.
I will happily be dragged backwards through a field in my wheelchair if it means Isla gets to see things, and I get to see Isla see things.
The night after that, we had coffee and cake at my Dad’s house on what would have been my Grandparents 75th wedding anniversary. Which reminded me that one of my long held writing goals is to write my grandparents love stories in some way.
Watch this space.
If you’re here for this week’s writing prompt roundup, Home, we have these thoughts:
Christine’s My Body Is My Home
Marian’s Home Is Where The Heart Is
Ritu’s Home Is Love
Ellen’s Hike To Freedom
Carol’s Homeward Bound
Rebecca’s writing to find the way home.
That last piece reminded me of something I wrote on Medium on what writing means to me. So there’s that, too.
This week’s prompt is #10! Thanks for sticking around for ten weeks of writing prompts. This week’s prompt is: Time warp.
Please add your words and link back to this post by Friday the 16th.
After next week I’ll be looking into ways you can add your own links to one weekly post.
Here’s to the next ten weeks!
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