In response to Kristi Simpson’s Saturday Six Minute Challenge
It’s another busy weekend but I hope you can find at least six minutes to write. Squeeze it in where you can. Write while you’re eating breakfast. If you take a daily walk or run, use your phone to dictate. Cooking dinner tonight? Write while you’re waiting for water to boil or something to finish up in the oven. Write-stir-repeat. Pretend you don’t have ten shows on your DVR to catch up on and work on a story/poem/outline/blog post/etc instead. Sneak into the bathroom, assuming you’re left alone at a time like that, and write on your phone.
(…) The point of these tips are to show you that you have more opportunities to write than you realize. Take advantage of these times and the words will add up.
If you would like a prompt:
- Write a story where someone you don’t like is the hero.
- What one piece of advice would you give other writers?
- Use the picture. What do you think of when you see this image?
Amelia sat on the veranda looking at the white flags floating in the God given evening breeze of this very hot summer. She’d just finished the laundry and held by pegs on the rope stretched between the two oak trees, the bed linens truly looked like white flags.
The task itself wasn’t something Amelia enjoyed much, although its mindless process had always allowed her to get lost in the world of what-might-have-been. But today the flying white sheets were a beautiful sight and her imaginary world almost in her grasp.
For years, the children hadn’t visited, furious with her for leaving them. She didn’t blame them; after all, she’d never really explained the reasons why she left. She’d always believed that children shouldn’t be part of their parents’ couple. They didn’t need to know that she left after one of their father’s many infidelities. They didn’t need to know discovering he’d had two kids with one of his mistresses prompted her to take her things and leave. He made good on his threat though: if she left she’d never see the children again. And she hadn’t. He won custody in court – he had more money and the better lawyer. Then he told the kids she’d abandoned them. At least he’d waited a year before bringing the other woman in his life with ‘her’ kids.
She grieved for years that they never answered her letters. Josh ensured she never visited. But in fairness she grieved mostly that they should have heard the truth after so many years. They had come riddled with a guilt that wasn’t warranted and that she couldn’t alleviate. They’d loved their father only to discover he betrayed them. They’d hated her only to understand that she never abandoned them but was given no choice.
It wasn’t surprising that they arrived to her house with anger in their heart: at their father for lying, at her for not telling them the truth, at themselves mostly for abandoning her. It was their stepsister who revealed the truth when on a drinking night, she told them that their father was also truly hers. Sean had counted faster than his sisters but they all understood.
But beyond the pain of a decade lost, Amelia was glad. They had come to see her and together they’d taken the first steps towards reconciliation and peace. So really the white flags of the bed linens in which they’d slept floating in the wind, straining against the pegs holding them were a symbol of victory. Her children were coming back into her life.
Ok so it was really 30 minutes rather than 6 but it was nice. And I obviously used the image 😉