I really enjoy writing – I know I’m not amazing but it makes me happy, solidifying my thoughts. I wish sometimes that I could affect people with my writing, that I could be one of those people who grip you with there words, who looks into your soul and put it on the page – I’m not and for the most part I’m OK with that. I was looking through some of my journals from Australia last night and found the beginning of a story I wrote so I thought I would copy it here – it’s self indulgent bollocks but surely that is the point of the blog.
The sun crept under the visor momentarily filling her eyes with a white haze which obscured the road. A sightless moment briefly freeing her from the confines of sight and opening up the possibilities of imagination. The lorry colliding head on with her dilapidated jeep, the child in the road pursuing a run away ball crushed under her wheels. her sight returned and so ended her moment of fatalistic self indulgence. It’s not that she wished for death specifically, her own or anyone else’s, but after years of monotony she clamoured for change and it was going to take something big to do it. Little did she know change was on its way, brought about not by a dramatic calamity but by one of those tiny everyday things which had grown so mundane to her.