So, I think I can thank my mother a little bit for this one. I’m going to ACEN for the next few days, so my writing output will likely be challenged. I’m putting up with this heinous act so I can see my friends and dress like a video game character for a couple of days. Naturally then, I wanted to post something here now so that I don’t come dangerous close to cutting the deadline like I did last time.
Well, I tried and I pushed, and I felt like I was giving birth to something disagreeable but every story I wrote ended up sounding like one I had already written. It usually involved a young child, climbing, and the open air.
At least the tropes of my writing are uplifting ones.
So, my mom helped give me another perspective on things. So, we end up here, with me taking that new perspective and adding the same crippled boy I was working with in my failed stories!
Thanks again, mummy!
Word Count: 100
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Title: Being Broken
The barbed wire would have scared me off. The lonely silo would have made me sad. Instead, I feel like that little building couldn’t be happier. Rather than be punched full of holes or shot with bullets, the silo just has its windows open. It’s excited. It’s eager to let the wind and birds and light in.
Whatever its story was, it’s starting a new one now. And it’s looking bright already.
The unexpected benefits of being broken.
My dad calls me back into the car; I hobble over, crutch acting as my second leg as it crunches the grass.
And now I am off to nurse this migraine before a stressful/fun/funssful/stressun day tomorrow. Maybe my next story should be on subconscious stress, because that seems to be a growing theme in my life as of late. I think I need to see an exponential increase in employment, book sales, and corgis in order to make all of that stress go away.
Good luck, you brave writer folk!