The Word Girl: C
He’s a daydream, laughter and hope. He’s bare-feet and bluejeans, carrying summer on his skin; golden, hot and salty. He’s trouble like a fresh opened bottle of whiskey; smooth and easy, promising wild nights and deep sleep and a thousand adventures he won’t ever let you regret. He’s well worn…
Practicing characterisation over on The Word Girl, using my old loves as inspiration, I’m hoping no one is offended and I get some feedback on my writing, please if you have a minute, hop on over and leave me a note? Thank you Xx
The Word Girl
At night I don’t sleep, I write, pouring ink onto paper with my heart; stories, poetry and ideas, snippets of beautiful things, a comfort, a distraction from the dark. Each morning my fingers are covered in ink, as blue as the dawn, and is that the mark of a writer? My mother says I was born to this; before I knew the alphabet, before there was school and exercise books full of copied letters, I was writing, covering pages in tiny ooooooooo’s, broken like words on an inked page, telling my parents with all the exasperation a toddler can muster that I was writing a story, as if they were in my way or costing me time. And so these twenty something years later I write, words now, magical, strange, distracting words; my comfort blanket, my saviour; for a word, after a word, after a word is power…. *
I’ve been careful with my words, locking them in drawers and only giving them to those I trusted with my life or more, but I’ve needed feedback, constructive and insightful and so I’ve started a new blog “The Word Girl” (because yes, I need four…) in the place of a writing group I had been planning to attend and which fell though, so dear Internet, please be my writing group? Read and comment, prompt me, push me, send me links, please? S Xx
*Margaret Atwood “Spelling”
