Writing


Help me Write 2

pencil and blank paper

The first thing I think about doing when I get up – well aside from going back to bed – is writing.

My eyes open, the dam breaks  – a torrent of thoughts releases and gushes through my brain. I want to write, I yearn to write. I need to write.

But what do I write about?

I scroll through writing prompt ideas, they’re all either too much bite than I can chew in 30 minutes – about all the time I have these days – or they’re just too…meh.

So help me! I have a soul full of writing but don’t know where to start since it’s been so long. What should I write about?

Books? Movies? Who I want to be when I grow up? What’s inside my van right now?

I feel like I’m learning how to walk or run again. My heart says yes, my body says – what the heck are you trying to do?! I’ll start slow, 30 minutes a day or less…more if I can. Maybe pictures, or not, but probably because I heart Pexels and Canva.

So, send me your “writing prompt” ideas and hold my hand while I get my writing mind and fingers back in shape again.

Ok, ready, set….go!

……

Ouch! My hands are cramping up, I need to rest.


Free Write Time

Jog, jog, hit the ground running

wherever I go

follow my feet

that’s where I’ll be

who knows where

who knows when

Brush, brush

follow my paintbrush

whatever flows out

that’s what I’ll paint

Write, Write, set the words free

whatever comes out

that’s what the story’ll be

some days, it’s not about form

or direction

a plan or inspiration

just go, go

let it all flow

letters spinning, flying

dancing together in the sky

like a flock of birds

they’ll form

caught up in the updraft

rippling up the air

one after another

spreading out across the magenta sky

soar, soar

let it all out

write, write

set your mind free.

{My mind is a constant reel, constantly clicking out word after another, disjointed, half-formed ideas rolled into one unseen thought. It’s there, hanging over me like a mist. If I could pause my life, freeze the world, just sit down, and write – maybe eventually all those jumbled words and aspiring stories would eventually clear up, define themselves – find a rhythm, fluidity, a readable prose perhaps. An artist has to have a place, a studio where they can be free, free to throw the paint on the canvas and see where the brush takes it, watch the bristles glide and twirl over the colors. This is my canvas, my studio. Most of the time I’ll craft up nice, polished pieces – ones that make sense, have a purpose, follow the rules and toe the line. And that’s fine, I like things nice and neat, shiny and clean. Other times, I need chaos, unfinished, unchartered. Just words, flowing, coming and going nowhwere…somewhere, anywhere. We’ll call these posts Free Write posts. Like Five Minute Fridays, minus the time limit and no prompts. My life is my prompt. No set time or day – once a week, everyday, maybe only once a month – just sit down and write.}

Flying Words

Flock of Words


The Hands of a Child {Five-Minute Friday} 4

Today’s Five-Minute Friday Writing Word Prompt: Hands

[Go:]

Fingerpaints

mud pie

peek-a-boo!

vroom, vroom!

kiss the ouchie

all better

sand castles, motes, twig flag poles

ladybugs, rolly pollies, snails, bird poop

friendship bracelets, crazy rainbow loom, fishtail double triple single big fat bracelets, earings, necklaces

knit one, knit two, sew through and under and back up again, there you go here it comes

dig, dig, pour, pour, smooth it out, I see a house in

the flour hill, one more teaspoon of

sugar, there now pop it

in the oven, fingers on the door watch

it bake, up, warm and gooey

chocolatey fingers, lick them yummy

hold my hand

while we cross, there, now it’s safe, off you go but

be careful, watch for others

swing, swing, hold on tight, one, two, three, woooOooOOppeee, 

again, again! Ok, one more time

to go, inside 

one last cup, turn the pages, goodnight moon

in the sky, point there you see

twinkling high

a star, a planet, the milky way

to your dreams

I hold your hands, as you sleep

caress your soft skin, run my 

hands through your hair,

together, I pray and thank

God for you 

my sweet, sweet

dear child.

[Stop]

When I think of it, my hands and my children’s hands have done a lot of ‘walking’ together over the years. What do you think of when you think of “hands”? Set the timer, write it down, then share it if you want and join the Five-Minute Friday party. 


Paint {Five Minute Friday} 4

I’ve got five extra minutes to join with Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Friday today

Today’s word prompt: Paint.

Go

Paint

Drip

Splatter

Drip, drip

Mix

Squeeze

Dip

Wet

Dab

Dip

Lightly press

Watch the color flow

Free

Following it’s water path

A scene unfolds

fireworks of color

explode, ignite, sizzle

White becomes color

Nothing – something

Beauty unfolds before my eyes

The paintbrush guides my hand

Stroke, brush, sweep,

Dab, wet, dip, dab, wet

Dot, dot, dot.

Blend, mix, smooth

Paint transforms, uplifts, inspires

Changes moods, expands the mind, points you to beyond

To where you do not look

The colors form, mix together, creating something new – unlike any other.

A sunset, flower petal, an ocean’s tide

Deep into the souls of eyes,

Light

Dark

Contrast

Highlights, shadows.

All part of the big picture, though different,

With Paint

The picture triumphs

Imagination

becomes

Real

Splatter, drip, dab, mix

Like a dance, the colors intertwine

Release 

now look

there it is 

Beauty 

Stop

Paint Your Imagination

(Photo courtesy Ishtiaq Ahmed via Flickr CC. Click on the image and read his profound little note about art.)

Well that’s all I got for today. Now I think I’ll go paint for real!

Do you like to write but only have 5 minutes? Try Five Minute Fridays! It’s a fun way to release those thoughts from their cage in your mind. 


I am a Writer {Five Minute Friday} 6

Joining Lisa-Jo’s Five Minute Friday today with the word prompt: Writer

Go:

I’ve wanted to be so many things

Artist

Doctor

Veterinarian

But never did I think – I want to be a writer.

I loved writing, journaled every day since I got my first diary in 2nd grade with a lock to which only I had the key for.

I speak writing, I breathe writing, I pray writing.

But never did I think of myself as a writer.

I’ve loved reading, devouring books left and right since I can remember.

Books have been my bestest friends, there for me when I’ve been bored, anxious, sad, depressed…searching.

Writers have inspired me, comforted me, helped me laugh, cry, and think.

Writers have shown me truths, given me questions to ponder and words to chew on and try to digest for days and even years later.

THE Writer has given me the greatest gifts of all – Love, peace, answers, Truth.

So when my college English 101 teacher kept prodding me to change or add my major to English (with Spanish) I just laughed.

I loved writing, but me? A writer? I couldn’t be.

Right?

And here I am. Years later…writing.

Dreaming and painting majestic stories in my mind, trying to find a way to transfer those images into words to paper…to you.

Stop

Wait, I need just five more minutes, please?!

Go

I thought only smart people with fancy degrees, PhD’s and other random letter arrangements after their names could be writers.

That’s not me, the only thing attached to me is my kids. I couldn’t tell you how to diagram a sentence, when to use a semicolon and I still have look up if it’s “dessert” or “desert” or “effect” or “affect”. Every. Time. And I still don’t get it.

I am afraid. I’m no good. Not funny enough, prophetic or deep. I’m just a simple mama, wife, and woman. Finding the perfect word for that one thing that starts with that one letter and means that one thing about how I’m feeling right now – it’s like trying to pass a kidney stone or sometimes like birthing a baby. And sometimes I labor and hmmph and moan and grunt and it still doesn’t come out. There are so many words that I feel that do not exist yet or ever could. 

But I can’t help but write. I have to write. It’s my canvas and my medium all in one. I breathe writing, I think writing. I can’t NOT write. If I don’t get it out, I’m going to explode. There are little things that bring me more joy than releasing the jumble of words and fragmented images from my mind onto a fresh sheet of paper or the mad-woman tapping on my keyboard onto the computer screen. It’s exhilarating, heart-beating…adrenaline for my soul. Writing releases me, lets me sour through the skies of my imagination, it comforts and heals my wounds, shines light on my joys, gives life to my soul. 

I enjoy it.  Even though I don’t have time…attention or much energy for it most days. But if I am a writer, I want to do it for YOU. To encourage you, help you smile, breath a little easier…maybe even laugh (out loud!) every now and then, pray…give you support in your day…help you know you are not alone. He is “with us”. I am here, like you, with you, struggling, gasping, step by step. We are together, and we’ll get through it together.

This is why.

I am a writer. 

Ok now really stop.

Photo courtesy: Benjamin Von Wong via Flickr CC

Do you love writing or just need five minutes to release your thoughts? Try this Five Minute Friday, it’s 5 minutes of sanity in your otherwise chaotic day. 

Also, be sure to check out Lisa’s newly released book – Surprised by Motherhood: Everything I Never Expected about Being a Mom. I am devouring it and loving it the whole way through. You’d love it too I’m sure. 

 

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