Last month I spotted a message on a local Facebook forum page, asking local writers if they would be interested in joining a new writers’ group. Both myself and a friend found the invite at the same time, and answered positively. So, a few weeks ago, we went to our first evening together. I was apprehensive – glad my friend was also there, but concerned I did not know the person running the group – or anyone else that could be there. My writing is so open and honest, and blatantly about my life and faith, that I wasn’t sure how it (or I) would sit in such a group.

I soon learned that my fears were unfounded. While it did make me feel really vulnerable, and it is going to take me a while to get used to reading my own writing out to others, the host was charming, laidback and very welcoming. She also kept a tight ship regarding ensuring we had time to write. I will definitely be going back, and will also share on here some of the tips that I learn and exercises that we do in the hopes that it will spark some ideas in you too.

That night we were each given an envelope with five words cut out of magazines in them. We then had 15 minutes to write either a story or five stand-alone paragraphs that included one of the words. Yes that’s three minutes per paragraph! I literally stopped typing the final one as the timer went off to say time was up. I froze: I simply wasn’t sure I could share what I had written without editing it first. I didn’t even have time to go back and read through it! But share it I did – and I’m going to go one step further here and let you read it too.

The exercise certainly pushed me, and it was interesting to see how different our approaches to it were (mine was still very much involving my everyday life and family). If you are looking for inspiration for ways to get writing – or want to do some completely different writing to your usual – why not try the exercise yourself? While the time limit did feel constraining, there was a freedom (and necessity) to write about whatever first popped into my head. I’m going to complete the exercise with my daughter sometime as I think it will be a really fun thing to do with her…

Home. That place of safety – and of comfort. The noise can be deafening, the squabbles annoying, but the joy – and the love – exuberant and rejuvenating. Home. The place I always long to be if I am away from it for too long. Home.

The delight of watching the children’s pure pleasure as they ran about the field, throwing themselves down and ragging together in the long grass. The discovery of new paths through the wood, their occulation of leaves and undergrowth as they explored a different area. The high point: when they both ‘fought’ to hug me and the three of us turned into one great mass of arms and legs, hysterically laughing as we fell into the grass. . .

The smell is excruciating, the acrid air intoxicating – not in a good way! Rammed up against a man’s already sweaty armpit, I sigh as we pull into yet another station and another body squashes into the already unhealthily crowded space…
No I do not miss commuting . . .

I loved those weekends before kids, when as four couples we would escape to a B&B or cottage regularly at weekends. The days were for exploring – the evenings for hilarity. The latter usually involved murder mysteries, and inventive and almost certainly hysterical costumes. Why are my costumes more likely to be pirate or star war based today?! 😉

I live with gadget man. Pretty much every second of every day he is glued to something. I do think it is a sign of the times – we don’t do well without our smart phones and laptops today do we – but he definitely overloads on technology daily. Our son seemed to develop the same love as soon as he could crawl. Rather than moving towards a toy and sitting quietly to play with it, as his sister had done, he always managed to find his way to some gadget or other, or the power lead attached to it, and then began to pull it apart. Obviously he was a genius and was simply learning how it worked…