The count-down widget on the bottom of Lisa-Jo's post tells me Five Minute Friday submissions are still being accepted. So here I am: writing for five minutes on a Sunday, in my proper writer's book (even though the rules mean I won't be altering my draft), while my laptop lays trapped in the room with the sick-but-finally-sleeping baby. I usually wait until I've posted my own bit before browsing what my fellow writers came up with each week, but this weekend's snuffly baby meant I had plenty of time to read on my phone, but none to sit at my keyboard. I'm glad I broke my own rule. So many gems! Do check-out the link to get the gist of Five Minute Fridays and find these gems for yourself.
This week's word: writer.
The dream started long ago. Words scribbled furiously in notebooks, empty pages in agendas, angsty poems I was certain were fathomlessly dee, as only Thirteen can believe. The first change to learn beyond English class, however, left me frozen. Thirty pages produced by the end of term for Creative Writing was too risky for Sixteen, with eyes on high school's honour roll. Could I produce that much that quickly? Would it be any good? Could my average survive the it of a mediocre grade? I didn't know, and wouldn't risk it. I switched Creative Writing for Physics.
Nearly a decade past, hundreds of pages written in emails, essays, dialectic, lab reports. But the dream lived on, That niggling desire to create, to weave with words, and through them, be known. And so I blog, intermittently, with each hit of the publish button met with twenty stats checks. Has any one read it? Was it any good I still don't really know.
But still, I write.