Slippage

I haven’t attended a writing workshop in ages. I’ve run plenty, but I haven’t taken the time to sit down and write for the fun of it in…wow. A really long time. No deadlines, no pressure, no market.

When the chance came up recently to do a workshop with published authors and lovely people VG Lee and Paul Burston, who travel extensively under the Polari banner, I took the chance.

And damn, am I glad I did.

I remember that voice. That pen, the way words flow without rules. I want more of that, and when we get back in July, it will be time to go there. To write without boundaries or market constraints. Just write.

Here is a snippet of what I wrote under the prompt, “memory”. It’s not much, but it felt good to let it out. I may share the rest at some point, which was 3rd person pov from the other character’s eyes. Anyway…

It’s an awareness of the oily slippage of time, I think. On my 42nd birthday I was older than my favourite aunt ever got to be. It’s an awareness of so many things left unsaid, of the very last time I saw her, how I knew it would be… The tar scented room and her yellowed fingertips, the glinting of the oxygen tank reflecting the beer cans on the table. An awareness of mortality that I’m only truly understanding now, as I cross a threshold she’ll never reach.

It’s an awareness of personality, of a lack of change as well as growth spurred on by personal disasters of nothing more than minute consequence compared to others misfortune–again, awareness of mortality, of time’s slippage, of the ladder growing shorter, of things looser, forgotten, unrepairable, and long gone.

Of mortal moments pressed into remaining years.

Write. Keep writing. Write for the love of words and for the precious gift of telling stories. ❤️

3 thoughts on “Slippage

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