Little Things – a memoir

brendaroseAnother piece of creative writing for today – a memoir with just a little embellishment for effect. There is a preface that goes with this piece though; a detail that is crucial to story.

Four years ago today, a friend of mine passed away. A beautiful, courageous girl who was not yet 18, battled against cancer. She wasn’t one of the lucky ones. I wrote this piece about her a few years ago, and felt there was no better time to publish it to the world.

We all miss you darling girl, each year gets a little easier to bear – but this day is always going to suck.

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Day In, Day Out

The third step squeaked on the staircase but the plush, caramel carpet muffled the sounds of her footsteps. Their old floorboards had always been too hard and noisy. An armful of blankets obstructed Maggie’s view and she stumbled on a toy at the top of the stairs. A short expletive passed her glossed lips before she caught her footing. The blankets slipped an inch but stayed snug in her arms till she stowed them neatly in the hall closet.

Walls of cottage white spread through the second storey, interrupted only by high gloss doorways to bedrooms, the bathroom, and nursery. Easterly windows invited in warm streams of sunlight that showed flecks of dust in the air, though the flecks were not permitted to rest on any surface in the house. One door was just ajar and deep blue carpet extended inside. Maggie’s braclet-encircled wrist pushed on the edge of the door and revealed a room furnished to precision for a little boy.
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Reader’s block?

This will be a slight continuation of my last post, and a further idea about the notion of blocks.

I feel I’ve had a reader’s block for a while too. Well, I feel that way because it’s right. I can’t, off the top of my head, remember what the last book was that I finished. I’ve started many, but haven’t actually read a whole one in ages. Continue reading

My taboo – my writer’s block

It has been a little while since my last post – I had told myself I’d write something every day or two, but alas time gets away from me. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. I say “I’ve been busy this weekend, so I haven’t really had a chance to sit down and write a post.” It’s not true. My weekend was pretty cruisy.
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Fighting for Mother Nature

Rain. Storms. Nature. I was told by my English teacher in grade nine that my story needed more external mood indicators. My sad scene needed rain, and my scary scene needed a lightning storm. I subscribed to this notion too easily. Maybe some writer from way back decided that rain would be a sad trope and storms would be a scary trope (probably a Romantic, those guys loved emotive forces of nature).

Somewhere along the way, I decided those forces of nature didn’t appeal to my notions of sadness or fear.
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