Move The Spotlight
A Little Closer to Home
Welcome or welcome back! Series three, episode two of A Writer’s Life! If you’d like to hear me read this, then click here: (Music by FASSounds and Music_For_Videos from Pixabay.)
6 minute read
There is always a spotlight on this time of the year in many (not all) parts of the world. Expectations pumped up on steroids, neverending plans and preparations and so many artificial lights that the stars seem to have retreated. Retreat. To some, the word may represent failure or a backwards trajectory. For me, it means to draw back. Stop and step away from the sparkly things vying for my attention whatever form they come in.
This is not always an easy task but it is a necessary action; taking that time to reflect, recharge and REST. Remembering who I am and realising that I am not simply a reflection of the outer influences.
Last week someone asked me what I had made peace with this year, and what I was still working on making peace with. Big question, right? I took a few moments to journal before I responded. Those few moments of internal examination helped me see where I was there and then and how far I had travelled—just those few moments of contemplation. Imagine if we took more time than that? The revelations!
I have made peace with the fact that it’s okay not to finish the list. It’s okay not to try to be what I think others expect me to be. It’s more than okay to be me and whatever version of me presents at the time. We’re all changing and evolving all the time and staying curious about yourself is an ongoing challenge. I think of it as a puzzle box. But one that changes like a magic labyrinth. Not just one puzzle box though, many sat nesting inside each other like Matryoshka dolls. I solve one puzzle box, open it and yet another one meets me inside.
Could this be frustrating to never get to the centre? Maybe. I’m curious though and I like to work things out and try different things. It is what sustains me as a writer. There are SO many different directions to go in. So many genres to try, so many different beginnings and endings and so many words to play with. I could never get bored.
This year was busy. Too busy if I’m honest. Next year might be busy too but it will be busy with fewer activities. More pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). I’m holding myself accountable right here. Expect to see more examples of my work. I’m playing around with different genres and subgenres. Some pieces you might like and some you might not. I’m taking advice and pleasing myself as the reader first. That’s where I’ll start and we’ll see where it goes.
I want to share a story I wrote on my phone on a bus journey. I’m sharing it because I had SO much fun writing it. It was written in real-time so is based on real-life events. I reached my destination before I finished writing the story so I had to complete the ending a few days later. I haven’t edited it. I wrote it to pass the time on the bus journey as I was on a social media detox at the time (like right now). I was smiling the whole time - what joy! I hope it makes you smile too. Thanks for reading and see you in a month or two!
Bus
Fancy a storytime? Listen here:
Music by Oleg Kyrylkovv from Pixabay
4 minute read
I could have honestly danced and sung up the road. Seriously, Gene Kelly would have had nothing on me. Nothing on today’s to-do list except to meet my friend in town for lunch and do some shopping.
Even waiting for the bus didn’t seem like a chore. The notifications board read one minute, and exactly on time, along came the bus. I stuck out my hand as is customary to hail the bus down.
Oh, not the number bus I was expecting but hey ho. I got on anyway. I found it strange though that the bus driver had pointed upwards before I boarded. I shrugged my shoulders and found a seat.
Although I had shrugged my shoulders, I couldn’t shrug the feeling that something was wrong. I scanned the other passengers on the bus. They looked ok. Not suspicious at all. They didn’t look like they were in fear for their life being secretly held hostage with a count down to a bomb ticking away and praying that Keanu will save the day.
Then my imagination began to run riot. Was there someone upstairs? Some kind of controller like the mind flayer from Stranger Things? I surveyed the passengers again. They looked numb, empty but full of nothingness. My goodness - they were clones! But actually, considering the bus route I was on, their vacant presentations would make sense - inbreeding and all that.
Calm down, calm down, just breathe. My heart started to straight up Colin Jackson race. Skipping over beats like Colin would over hurdles or one of those ladies in a step class who is clearly listening to the music that is NOT playing.
Was it getting hotter in here? Hot flush? I was of that age. But no, I had heat and cold co-existing in perfect harmony on my back. I rewound the scene in my mind. The bus driver was communicating something to me clearly. I could see it in his eyes. I knew I should have finished that psychic development course - shame it clashed with Pilates.
The bus turned the corner. Eh? This wasn’t the way to town. I rolled my eyes, a few times too. Good job no one was paying attention to me as it did look like I was having a fit. By this point I had worked myself up into such a state, I had to get off the bus. Plus my bladder was calling and there was a KFC across the road whose facilities I could use.
I needed to make it there as soon as possible. But as is the norm for Mercury retrograde, obstacles were thrown in the way. This time in the form of a little girl all dressed in pink. She looked like a stick of candy floss and judging by the way she was jumping up and down, contained just as much sugar. Cue the relentless stream of questions about where I was going and why and about how she was going to spend her day (get an IG account love).
By the time I had escaped the clutches of this verbal jailer, I had to run (ok walk briskly) to the bathroom. I had seriously heated up by now with all the pressure, so I unzipped my trendy Parka coat.
Do you remember those old western movies where a stranger walks into a saloon, the music stops and everyone stares? Well, that pretty much describes my experience as soon as I came out of the bathroom. Whatever top ten track that was playing on the radio stopped. And I don’t mean just stopped - you could actually hear the needle scratch across the record.
Why were they staring? Did I forget to put my wig on again? Was I wearing odd boots? I thought again about my wardrobe. Crap. I glanced in the mirror and realised I had pulled out the vintage T-shirt. The one that read - Save animals, veganism is the way.
Veganism had been outlawed only a few years ago and the laws supporting that were strict. I could hear the sirens. I had inadvertently been discovered, caught and soon to be captured!
My mind flicked back to memories of reading Charles Dickens and thinking about how back then, I would have been fed gruel and water for a lifetime. Not now. Now I could only look forward to being force-fed turkey twizzlers, chicken nuggets and horror of horrors - real butter! It was a hard lesson to learn. Let this be a warning. Do not get dressed in the dark.
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