A change is as good as a writer’s retreat…

This morning I woke up hundreds of miles from home. I wish I could say that it was because something exciting had happened, but it wasn’t a surprise at all; I’m currently staying with my Dad in the fair city of Manchester. I drove here myself. No aliens, criminal gangs or international spy networks involved. Shame.

Anyway, I woke up in a completely different place. None of my familiar objects around me, none of the familiar routine to fall into.

It was wonderful. I felt jarred awake and slightly discombobulated as I stumbled about, trying to begin my day. But underneath it all was the feeling of space; space to think, to be more aware. And when that happens, stories come.

It’s made me appreciate how important it is to take time to just stop and look around me. My father’s flat overlooks water in an amazing urban environment. There is so much to look at, especially with curious writer’s eyes. As I drank my coffee, I looked at apartment blocks containing people with their own worlds, their own mornings unfolding across the water. I looked at unfamiliar trees and ripples on the canal. Even just the fact that there are red-brick buildings here instead of Somerset stone shook me up and made me think. It felt like a heavy stone block of routine was lifted out of my creative garden and the fresh green grass of creativity sprung up, a bit pale and crushed, but still there nonetheless.

I’ve been struggling to choose a winner for the September short story club, but what a delicious struggle. So many ideas triggering so many stories. Each one a seed, thrown into a pot, with more successful germinations than I expected. I had to choose which one to re-pot and grow into a full story though, and this morning I had the chance to let that happen.

So the winner for September is one of the suggestions from Mike and Liz: “She woke in a field. It was pouring with rain but she was not getting wet.”

This morning the story unfolded in my mind. Last week when I read that suggestion, I knew why she wasn’t getting wet, but the shape of the whole story wasn’t there. I’m learning to trust the process though. I didn’t worry, I just left it to simmer away in the dark kitchen of my imagination, trusting that it would thicken and develop flavour without my worrying over it. It has.

So a hearty thank you to everyone who posted ideas, I was genuinely torn between several of them, but when the shape of this story formed over coffee this morning, I knew I had to write it down. Short Story Club members, in a week or two you’ll know why she’s in a field, in the rain but not getting wet (hint: it’s not because of an umbrella or raincoat) – for the rest of you, you still have time to join to read it for free.

Oh, there was something I wanted to ask you all actually. A little while ago, the sparkling Jodi was kind enough to give me an Honest Scrap Award, something passed on to people blogging from the heart. Jodi, my heart and I thank you. I’d love to pass it on, and to do that I need to list seven worthy blogs (no problem there) and also list ten honest things about myself. Ah, there’s the rub. I find it practically impossible to write this, and I never responded to that meme from Marc either. I know why – both involve telling you some things about me, and I just can’t imagine what on earth I could tell you that people would want to know. Icy has already said that she’d like to know where I hid the bodies, but of course I couldn’t possibly do that…

So I thought I’d ask. If I wrote ten things you didn’t know about me, what would you like to find out? Answers on a postcard please in the comments below if you have any requests, though it does seem silly to ask…

Tagged as: honest scrap award, short story club