Tag Archives: free write

Morning Free Write

I woke up today a little more excited than usual so I am funneling that energy into a 5-10 minute free write.
My husband and I are getting ready to buy our first home.
He is already on Zillow even though we usually don’t get up til 8:15 on Saturdays.
Well technically we’re still in bed, but we’re both wide awake.
Our cats are staying with my parents since their home is a lot cooler than our temporary RV home and wow why am I talking about the weather.
There is something that has me perturbed in the back of my head and that is that my manager has decided to send me on a business trip.
Last week I was fed up with being bullied by my coworker and being the monkey in the middle of all the communication mishaps so I got a couple of job interviews.
One was supposed to be today, and it was for my type of dream job, taking photos of pre-school kids.
The problem was it’s commission only and no gas-reimbursement.
I still have a huge student loan to pay off so it felt irresponsible and too risky to switch into photography again.
I also feel like my boss and manager are depending more and more on me each day and it is overwhelming at times.
In my new role I am doing the job my coworker used to do 6 hrs/day plus what I would do 4 hrs/day, compacted into an 8 hr. day, which is usually only a 7-7:30 hr. day because I, uhm, arrive late and tend to take long lunches.
Ok so maybe part of the stress is my fault, but still, sales are growing considerably and we have two new distributors, one in Europe and another in Africa.
All of this should be reason to feel excited but me, I’m just overwhelmed.
Maybe cause I don’t get a cut of the sales growth… I don’t know.
My husband says that I can go back to part time if I want but I need to pay off that loan and also I have my heart set on a Tesla.
I’m just not career-motivated I guess.
Though I’d still like to become a certified interpreter.
Good grief, who gets me?
If you are wondering how my mom is, she is better.
Thanks for wondering.

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Donut Cloud is an omen of good things to come
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Flatulence, Free Writes and the Porpoise of Life

Recently I was visiting a couple of friends at their house when the husband farted.
“Did you just fart?” asked his wife.
“Yes. That’s what people do.”
“I love you so much!” his wife exclaimed.
OK. That is really not the reaction my husband would get from me.

But lately I’ve been going to groups I find on meetup.com and one of them is a free write group, coordinated by Amy Robinson.
About twelve of us meet at a coffeehouse or book store and she gives us writing prompts.
I don’t spend time with any of them outside of the group, but writing with someone connects you to them in a different way.
It is as if you are letting them into your house, your personal space, but a space you will never be able to move out of.
When we share our writing with someone, we are opening the doors to our souls.
“Come in! Come in! This is what I think. This is who I really am. Critique me. Love me. Drink up my feelings and feast on my opinions.”
Especially free writes. I mean, all of that’s unedited.

At the group, when someone reads a piece, the others give positive feedback.
The prompt last Saturday was to write about something that is a big deal to one person but no one else cares.
Well I improvised a story about a girl who thinks she wants to kill herself because the guy who used to stalk her no longer goes to the place where they once met.
After I read it, a long awkward silence ensued. Finally I said, “OK…”
A couple people were nice enough to hurriedly come up with positive comments but they were just being polite.

So when we write a lot, some of our writing can be “farts” so to speak.
I’m not saying my story was. I personally found it to be very funny. Like an inside joke that only I got.
But I’m sure now and then I’ve blogged stupid things.
I just think if someone can read you that way, if they can overstay their visit and never want to leave… maybe the girl in my story wouldn’t kill herself.
Maybe writing’s enough of a reason to keep on living.