Word of the Week - Beginning

I've found Word of the Week difficult over the last few weeks. Nothing seemed to sum up the week so I reluctantly decided not to take part. But this week I thought there was a word which was suitable so here I am again!

This week I've chosen 'Beginning' as my word. I've written on several occasions about how I struggle to become and stay organised. This lack of organisation has scuppered my attempts to concentrate properly on my writing. No matter how many planners I start, how many notebook I have, I never seemed to get a handle on 'being a writer'. I recognise that it's a fundamental problem of mine - start off with good intentions then the apathy/ennui kicks in and I'm back to square one.

This week someone told me about Patreon. This is a website that matches creative people with patrons, folk who like what is created and donate money each month so the creative person has an extra incentive to create or has the funds that enables them to create. The patrons are offered 'rewards' for their patronage - things like a piece of artwork, mention in a rap lyric, internet contact to answer questions, tutorials. A friend of my son's makes a living doing this - he's not a millionaire but makes enough to keep body and soul together.

I'm seriously considering joining. My thinking is as follows: if I'm lucky enough to attract patrons then the fact that they are paying me to write will concentrate my mind and force me to stop procrastinating about it. It will also make me feel like a 'proper' writer, that my writing is valued and therefore I will want to do more. I often feel that I am wasting time when I'm writing, that I should be doing something else rather than wasting my time indulging my fantasy of being a writer.

So I am looking at a new beginning, a time when I feel like a 'proper' writer, a time when I write for the joy of it without the guilt, a time when I get more of my writing out into the world and find out if I have what it takes to be a writer.

Watch this space!       

Prose For Thought - Using Writing Prompts

This week I have been using writing prompts from this excellent book, 642 Things To Write About. It has loads of ideas about things to write, all laid out with space to write in the book. I leaf through the book until something catches my eye and then I scribble away. I thought I'd use one of the prompts as my contribution to Prose For Thought this week.

The prompt I used was 'The cleaning lady' and here's what I came up with.

The cleaning lady slowly lifted the sheet and all the colour drained from her face. The blood stained face of her employer stared up at her, his piercing blue eyes coldly looking up at the ceiling. She'd never again crack a joke with him as she tidied the sitting room; she'd never again have to remind him to have a decent meal or he'd fade away; she'd never again blush and stammer as he handed her an extravagant bouquet for her birthday. Hot tears splashed onto the floor as she fumbled for her phone and began to dial 999.

The Prompt - Fun

Fun

My stomach lurched and I felt the nausea rising again. A sour tang at the back of my throat, I swallowed and prayed that it would soon be over. Eyes tightly closed I struggled to calm the fear rising in me. This was torture and I wasn’t sure I could bear it for much longer.

My body suddenly swung to the right and I clenched the edge of my seat, my knuckles turning even whiter. Sweat seeped between my fingers and I felt my grip slipping. Terrified of loosing hold of the seat I gripped even tighter and felt a cramp start in my hand.

 A sudden lurch to the left and I felt my stomach tighten again. If this went on for much longer I would be unable to resist the nausea. Swallowing hard again I tried to steady my breathing but it was no good. I was gasping for air and each ragged breath increased the feeling of panic.

Cold wind whipped my hair, chilling the sheen of sweat which had sprung up across my face. Goose bumps appeared on my forearms and I felt chilled to the bone. Another wave of nausea swept over me and a buzzing in my ears heralded an approaching fainting fit. My head felt light, my muscles felt weak and all I wanted to do was lie down and lose consciousness.

Suddenly everything went quiet and still. My nausea died down, I started to feel more in control of my body and ventured to open my eyes. Through the glare of sunlight I caught a glimpse of his smiling face.

‘That was fun, Mum! Can we go on the Pirate Ship now?’      

Prose 4 Thought - The laptop is broken.

The laptop is broken
What can I do?
No Word Doc for me,
It makes me feel blue.

I'm bursting with ideas,
First time for a while.
But I can't type them in
So they can't become a file.

The laptop is broken
I'm feeling bereft and so sad,
Yet I claim I'm a Luddite,
I'm feeling so bad.

The laptop is mended!
Some tape is all it took.
So why am I sitting
And scribbling in this book?

The laptop is mended
But I'm loving paper and ink,
I'm still a bit Luddite,
Old fashioned, traditional I think.

I'm loving my laptop,
Loving my paper too.
So I'm splitting my loyalties,
Ink black or blue?

My handwriting's still awful
But it's individual and mine.
I feel like a real writer
(But not all the time!)

Hello to handwriting,
Welcome back to my muse.
I'm writing more often,
Isn't that the greatest news?