#FLfiction14

After a couple of failed attempts at online courses (both free – one was too heavy and the other was too reliant on video clips which I can’t see on my phone thus limiting when I can access the course) I’ve started another Future Learn course, this time it’s ‘Start writing fiction’.

One of the first tasks was to write 50-100 words including…

…one fact, three fiction

So, it’s Monday lunchtime.  I’m standing by the river, sun shining on my back as I gaze at the ripples.  Gently, ducks bob by, their tranquillity slows my heart beat.  I know appearances mislead and their feet are paddling furiously but I let myself believe the beautiful lie.

…three facts, one fiction

Distractedly gazing at the computer screen, my mind ticks over to the weekend.  I’m off to the countryside where I hope the sun will shine and revitalise my soul.  Just need to get through a few days in the job from hell.

 

Then a quick look at the writer’s notebook:

The writer’s notebook

Collections of facts and fictions

Brief observations

Enchanting words

Snippets of inspiration

Whispers of stories

Ghosts of characters

Unimagined worlds

Lodging within

Cardboard covers

 

Then we looked why different writers write.

 Why do I write?

I write to create a world, to make sense of the world.  I write to develop characters, further my understanding of them and myself through them.  Writing is a lens to see the world through.  It helps me to focus on details which are so easily lost in the universe.  Words allow me to frame ideas, understand my thoughts and explore within me.  I use words to shine light on crevices that would remain in the dark.  Writing allows me to listen to myself.  Writing can be meditation, reflection, observation.  Writing is a journey into other worlds, other ways, into yourself.

I’ve always written.  I wrote story after story as a child.  I dabbled in haiku and acrostic.  I wrote my own newspapers and magazines.  As a teenager I indulged in dark, dramatic, miserable poetry.  Written in notebooks that never left my side.  Written in the margins of my maths work.  I reached a stage where writing was no longer consoling me, it was holding me hostage to the depression that blackened my day.  I took a break.  I am returning to writing, more mature, less brooding.  I am a different person.  I am a different writer.

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