đď¸ I've enroled in a fiction writing course.
Here's what I've written for the first week. đ
Hello friends! Iâm writing this on the 16:56 train from Hexham to Sunderland, after a lovely day walking around this beautiful historic town on my day off. I did that thing where I take time off to dedicate my day to writing and writing-adjacent things; this time I took Monday and Tuesday. Three-day week, here I come. Donât be jealous, just use your leave. Take the time off. You deserve it.
Anyway, yesterday I found out that the fiction writing course tutored by Yan Ge (which I was on the waiting list for) had a space free up. Investing in that course is part of the whole âback yourselfâ thing I was talking about a couple of newsletters ago.
If youâre keen to write more and learn more about the mechanics of writing fiction, definitely check out the National Centre for Writingâthey have loads of free and paid resources, as well as a podcast thatâs perfect for getting tips and motivation to get your butt to your desk.
So, today Iâve been working on my first writing task. I thought Iâd share that with you allâsomething about having you all along for the journey and possibly using the below prompt to spark your own automatic writing.
By automatic writing, I mean just writing without doing too much editing or self-criticism. Try to use this prompt to spark an idea, and go with it. Challenge yourself to just write for 15 minutes. The less you need to âthinkâ about it, the better. Let me know if you give it a go!
The task
Kyla Smith, 2, had to be cut free from firefighters after putting her head through a potty seat hole when her mum Teresa, 37, left the room. Teresa tried coating the seat rim in washing up liquid, hoping Kyla would slip free, but when that failed she called 999. Four firefighters rushed to their home in Stoke-on-Trent, Staffs, and, using industrial scissors, freed Kylaâs head within five minutes. Little Kyla stayed calm as firefighters cut her head free and was running around looking for her toilet seat immediately afterwards. Teresa bought the special chair from Home Bargains for ÂŁ5 and the toddler had been using it for three months before the incident.
Exercise 1
Imagine you are the mother, Teresa, whose daughter got her head stuck in the potty seat. Spend five to ten minutes writing a few paragraphs about what you did on the morning of the day in question. Use the first person (âIâ). You might write about your daughter, or you might write about something differentâmaking breakfast for your other children, rushing to work, etc. Write as quickly as you can.
My submission
On days like today, I wonder what possessed me to have children at all. In my 20s, the sheer body horror of childbirth was enough to stop me from feeling the tug on my ovaries that, Iâm told, Iâd eventually experience. Destined to incubate and procreate, despite the stretching and tearing and bleeding, according to anyone Iâd dared to tell I didnât want kids.Â
âYouâll change your mind!â
âChildren are a blessing!â
âBut whoâll look after you when youâre old?â
Sometimes it felt like these impassioned declarations were less about me and my life choices and more about them justifying theirs. Friends and family dropped off one by one, lost to a world of swollen feet, dirty nappies, and the smell of ripe vomit on all their favourite clothes.
On the odd grown-up night of wines and catch-ups, my girls inevitably asked me how I was doing living my single-girl life and what my latest single-girl adventure was. Sometimes we wore matching dark circles under our eyes; mine from an ill-advised drug-fuelled rave two nights ago and theirs from an ill-tempered child two nights in a row.
So, it came as a surprise to everyoneâmyself includedâwhen at the 'geriatric' age of 30 I decided to settle down with a nice man called Thomas. We met at an underground party somewhere along Tottenham Court Road in London. I was visiting my fellow childless friend Eva for one of our trademark weekends of debauchery, he was out for his birthday and all his friends were wearing masks of his face, which was a bit weird even without the MDMA.
The night we met, we shared a bag of drugs and I shared the hip flask of vodka I'd concealed in my bra. A year in, we'd started doing 30-year-old-couple things, like going to garden centres and planning big walks in the Lakes. And it was nice. We bought a house by the sea, got a dog and a pizza oven. And then, at 35, we had Kyla.Â
Kylaâmy sweet little demon child who took after her mother in looks and personality. And today, as I rushed around the house getting my (and her) shit together, she did a typically-Kyla thing. She (somehow) got her head stuck in her potty seat. I tried all the usual things you do when you or your darling child get things stuck on your person; a bit of Fairy washing up liquid, olive oil, swearing under your breath. Thomas had already left for work, so I battled this potty-headed adversary aloneâand lost.
After struggling for an hour, I caved and called 999, tail between my unshaven legs. They got her out in five minutes, and she was fine except for a daft-looking red line around her big head. We both decided to take a mental health day after the firefighters left. If your day is that bad before 9:00 am, Iâve always said you should cancel the rest of it, for fear itâll get worse if you persist.
Let me know what you think! Thereâs a thing in this course where classmates share feedback on each otherâs work, so feel free to tell me what you think about this snippet here too. What did you like? What did you not quite gel with? I want to know!
Love this!! â¤ď¸