My 500 Words — My challenge!

Today I stumbled upon a blog by a chap named Jeff Goins. I can’t even remember how I came across his website, but lots of what he was writing about resonated with me. Talking about commitment problems (with writing!), sticking with your writing tasks… That sort of thing. That’s one of the main issues in my life. I will start a project with such vim and vigour — “I’m going to change the world with this idea” I say to myself. Over the course of that day I will have researched all avenues — how to do it, where to do it, what to buy, how to sell it… And then I realise I’ll have to actually DO something next. Then I let it fizzle out and find its way into the pile of forgotten dreams (Which is becoming very big!). My husband, Ben, says I’m whimsy. At first I thought it was cute. Then I thought that he’s got the wrong word for it. I’m not whimsy. I’m lazy. And I hate being lazy… But it’s what I’m good at. Now, I will say, (I think) I’m the total opposite at work. I spend twelve hours a day running around after elderly people. Trust me, it’s not a slow day. So maybe I feel that being lazy at home is well justified? Well, to a certain extent, yes. But I’ve just had three days off and I haven’t done a single thing with them. Unless you count keeping my cats company, in which case I have had a very busy three days. I have also gained a great amount of knowledge from the ID and CI channels as they are left on from the time BBC Breakfast finishes until Ben gets home and takes charge of the controller again.

But… I love to write. I seem to come back to it time and time again. Words can flow so easily from my fingertips and I don’t even have to think about what I’m writing sometimes. I remember the exact time I fell in love with writing. I was on holiday in Tunisia with my parents. A typical overweight, stroppy teenager, I didn’t want to bathe in the glorious heat or get accosted by one of the local men. I decided I would stay in the hotel while my mum and dad went out to buy a couple of Fez hats (it’s true, I remember. There’s even a photo somewhere). I was only fourteen at the time and I don’t know where it came from, but I suddenly had a great urge to write. Maybe it was being taken out of my usual surroundings that inspired me, but I will never forget that feeling in the pit of my stomach. I even remember that it was a love story (obviously) and I tried for many, many years to write that bloody story. I would sit on my bed listening to my Keane album over and over again, trying to get my teenage feelings onto paper. It never happened. I had all my inspirations, drafts etc in a yellow binder and for the life of me I can’t think where I hid it. It still bothers me, twelve years later.

So, from then I felt, as people say, I had a book in me. I don’t know what it is, who is in it or what. But it’s in my brain, and as every year goes by, it bubbles closer to the surface of my fingertips (Don’t worry, it’s not the love story). This writing exercise, My 500 Words (which, as you may notice, I have already surpassed) is a step towards this book in my brain. To train myself to write every day.

 

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

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