There are times when we all need a little nudge. I have been reading Firefly Creative Writing, a wonderful writing community based out of Toronto, Ontario. They have created a creative and safe space to share your voice. It’s also a passion of mine to create such a space and community where we come together and share our voice through writing and other creative mediums. If I lived in Toronto I would have applied for their latest call for writing coaches.
The other day, one of the coaches posted a a writing prompt (picture above) this image grabbed me, shook my imagination. So many imagines came to mind and a feeling of longing gently nudged me. It was suggested to take five minutes to write what came to mind with the partial opening line, It was the road to… This is what my creativity and imagination came together and flowed through my pen.
It was the road to my lover’s ranch even though I wanted to be so far away from this town. This town has held me back so many times, too many times. I chose this dirty, small town over my hearts desire, to move to LA and write movies, that’s all I wanted to do. I was good at writing stories, most of the time I wrote myself to another life, but this road, this dirt, crumbling road kept hauling me back to Noah’s ranch, I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t stay away from his touch, the only touch I knew, the only touch I wanted. But the page took me away from Noah, he use to tell me that I was happier when I was day dreaming and writing my stories, he knew me so well when I didn’t know myself, he pushed me to write but wanted me stay and tend to the cattle. I hated those cows, but I loved the silence in the early mornings. Five o’clock and pitch black, only the hum of the land to move to, I would sit down at Noah’s great grandmother’s writing desk and type as fast as my fingers would go. I wrote my first script at that writing desk, I think his great grandmother made it herself, she was still alive when I first met Noah, she was about a hundred and one years old and she didn’t look more than sixty. She told me her secret was sex, sleep and a little whiskey from time to time. I tried her remedies as much as possible. Noah and I had an amazing sex, he knew every inch of my body and I loved to explore his body. I would have the best sleeps after our sexual escapades. For the whiskey, we had our fair share of good blends over the years, but Noah’s younger brother, Kyle, died suddenly from alcohol poisoning and Noah quit drinking the moment he found out. He wanted to pay tribute to his brother and staying alive and making smart choices was going to be Noah’s homage.
I love the creative process.
Until next time, keep on typing. . . .