I am not my right breast.
Uh, okay. I thought in response. I’ll take your word for it.
I was browsing the “For Sale” books at my local library, and that first line was the title, stretched out along the peeling spine of a hardcover. I continued looking over the assorted bundles, sniggering at the Mills & Boon titles (“Sheik For Hire!” and “Baby In The Boardroom!”) and rescuing the dejected pile of knitting magazines from tumbling lemming style off the table – all the while with a chunk of my brain chewing on the original title.
What if I AM my right breast? What would that mean? I like my bosom buddies, so that’s kind of a compliment. What if I’m not my right breast? What would I be best summarised as; my left bicep? My odd little toes? Why them? Why not? That is a clever title for a breast cancer survivor book though… If I was going to write a book about something I know what would I call it? “Can I Please Have a Tazer? A Guide to Surviving Divorce”? Maybe “7000 Reasons to Eat Dessert/First”? Then I realised I was running late (libraries ambush me all the time) and I had to shove the whole discussion into the impossible, universe-deep drawer labelled “Inspiration” and go buy carrots and toilet paper. And that right there is what frustrates and delights me about inspiration – you never know when you’re going to dodge a falling piano, or get smacked upside the head with an insistent alien tentacle.
Or if you have a huge, perfect (or even fair-to-middling but fascinating snippet of an) idea, are you going to remember the idea, or remember where you put the reminder or prompt (Pinterest is what I’m using at the moment for my online ideas). Of all those I know who write, they don’t schedule in time to get ideas. Sure, many of them carve out allotted time to write, but as for dancing at precisely 6:15am with their muse… The muse is a little commitment-phobic shall we say.
Then, if it’s not the absence of ideas, there’s being petrified that I can’t do the idea justice. That maybe I could do something worthwhile with it, but I’d need to work out the plot, then characters and maybe flesh out some conversation and I just don’t have seventeen hours right now! I know several people who signed up for NaNoWriMo, or who are blogging every day for November. I like the idea of just letting the words foam and froth, dribble and dry out onto the page or screen – just to be writing something and not overthinking it to oblivion.
So let’s try something – take a phrase out of this post, or one of the prompts below, (or something from one of the comments!) and give me a chunk of words. Nothing huge – it can be a bit of a conversation, or the next two sentences in the action. It could be something totally unrelated, but inspired from what you read. The prompt or phrase can be the first, middle or last bit of your comment, or not included at all. Just don’t think about it – let the words tumble out. And feel free to add something that inspired you lately.
- So, I licked the kitchen floor.
- The sound of a soft-drink can opening.
- A glob of slobber the size of a Volkswagon landed
- My shadow scares me.
- The sun shouted Alleluia
- Truth or dare, my rules.
- Hey, wanna start a fight?
So, I licked the kitchen floor. It wasn't the first time, besides I had just mopped, all the towels were in the wash and if I left that drop of chocolate it would have just collected more dirt. So, yeah I licked the kitchen floor and it tasted delicious.
I am not…my body. This chronic illness of mine is not who I really am. And yet…body and spirit are what make us who we really are, right? It's all such a love-hate relationship. I ache for a new body (sign me up for the resurrection!) but know deep down that I need to learn not to fight it so much. To let it be, let it be part of my becoming.
"Morning Edition" pours out of my alarm clock radio. I stumble out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. A stray Lego presses into my instep and I wince as I limp across the cold tile. The refrigerator light dazzles me momentarily as I reach in, groping in the usual spot. I hear the sound of a soda can opening, the sweet, bubbly liquid pours down my throat, caffeine infusing into my bloodstream. Thank you, Diet Dr. Pepper. I can now begin my day.
Writhing slowly out of the bedcovers, he moves slothlike towards the bathroom without uttering a sound. Mornings pass unnoticed for him, but she's zipping around the house for the fourth hour of this day. Passing the darkened bedroom door, she hurls a chunk of words at him. But he's in another dimension. The words pass through him unnoticed as he creeps along his path.
I'm flying! I'm actually flying without wings, without a plane! I'm swimming in the air and that zombie who was chasing me is standing below wondering where I went. Ha! Outsmarted ya didn't I?
And then a glob of slobber the size of a Volkswagon lands on my head, slamming me into…the living room carpet.
I peer into the mouth of the family St. Bernard. Ew.
I guess naptime is over.
Very fun, Kellie. I have to go bake Thanksgiving pies, but I hope you get lots more snippets. Maybe I'll check back in with my muse on Friday and spill out something here. Great post. Great little writings in the comments.
The sound of a soft-drink can opening in our household whips heads and brings a shower of, "Can I have soda too?" In my younger years I thought it foolish that people ever sneak food. Now I sneak all kinds of things. Something tickles my fancy and I give in to gluttony. While at the same time I want better for my children, refusing their requests for my weakness.
(Fun, thanks! A nice writing break from Thanksgiving crazy.)
The sound of opening a soft drink can soothes me. It is my vice. My Pepsi Max is my crutch, my constant companion.
Years ago, it was my lighter; the sound of my thumb igniting the spark. Thankfully, I no longer smoke. But without my can of soft drink close by, I feel naked; like I've forgotten something. I know it's an unhealthy dependence, another habit I need to break. But for now, I'm at peace.
Actually, I'm feeling a little thirsty…
As I enjoy the feeling of smoothing out a canvas In the beach sand I reflect on my odd little toes. Roughly the size of an almond they sit suspended above the ball of my foot. I enjoy the sensation of laying my unique feet flat and stretch those quirky nuts … Flipper like …. Back and forth in an attempt to create a society conforming footprint. No luck … Guess I can't be a barefoot stalker.
I am sitting with about forty people in a big room. There are about twenty men and about twenty women. We are all dressed in white. There is a sense of reverence. Suddenly there is a soft whisper of a Coke can being opened, but actually in this setting it was more like a loud shout than a soft whisper. Some dear old man needed what was in the can for some reason. True story.
It was 12:31 in the afternoon when my son was born. The sun was hidden by clouds, curtains, and my own tiny vision of salt water and Gideon. He wad perfect. Still is.
Now as I rock the two-week-old in the middle of the night, trying to ignore the painful-sounding grunting and straining that signals he needs a change soon, I miss the sun, with its warmth and light. I wish it were daytime and that my baby really was perfect. Then everything would be easier, right?
CountryHungry – I'm never going to look at my kitchen floor the same way again.
Michelle – that's a powerful bit of verse you created. Thank you.
Andrea – Lego's should not be part of any day before at least midday. Say hi to the Dr for me!
KDA – loved your sloth!
Mormonhermitmom – you have my devotion for combining flight, zombies, a nap and a St Bernard in the one neat package!
Jendoop – I didn't realise Thanksgiving was the week I wrote this – hope you got your share of gluttony and fizz.
Tracey – now I'M feeling a little thirsty!
Lisa K – I'm sure odd little toes will keep you from being a fantastic barefoot stalker…
Kris – your true story is amazing, I can't believe it's not fiction! Funny!
Bethany – I loved your piece. I hope you've had some sun these past few days.
Thanks all for posting, I enjoyed every comment hugely, and you all inspired me!