Most of us dream about flying Yet painting one’s ears won’t cut it It’s a weight ratio problem A bit like the bumble bee who shouldn’t be able to defy gravity? No so lucky the elephant Like those of us without wings We can only dream of defying gravity… ©AnitaDawes2022
Simply 6 Minutes Challenge Note
https://christinebialczak.com/2020/07/14/simply-6-minutes-writing-challenge
I had an idea the other day, but didn’t make a note of it at the time. I think it was a good idea and remember thinking, “Wow, that would be good to write about,” but nothing else. And it doesn’t matter how long I take to try and retrieve it; it won’t come back.
The other problem I have, and this can be just as annoying, are all the cryptic sentences I do managed to jot down. Looking back at them, it’s almost as though an idiot wrote them and I have no clue what I meant to say.
My desk is awash with all the things I find useful, post-it notes, notepads and scraps of paper, and on all these things, I have undoubtedly scrawled something that was to be brilliant, memorable or interesting. Trouble is, I look at what I have written and it means absolutely nothing to me.
I suspect that more often than not, what I have jotted down is the most important detail that would lift our careers out of the depths of anonymity. You know what I mean, that little known secret that will make people notice you and want to read all of your books.
We all want to find that, don’t we?
Well, for all I know I might have done that, just couldn’t understand a word of what I scribbled down.
Before I stuck a hesitant toe into the World Wide Web, I had no idea how hard it would be, thinking it must be easy to become involved, to blog, to establish a presence. After all, there were so many interesting people out there all making it look so effortless.
How wrong I was to assume that all you had to do was switch on your PC and away you go! Nothing could have been further from the truth.
I started our blog for the sole purpose of promoting Anita’s books. I am, and always have been, her editor and general dogsbody as she will not touch a keyboard on pain of death and I’m sure there are a lot of writers like that out there.
I have always loved the process of transforming a pile of handwritten notes into what I think is a masterpiece. Back in the day, we have posted off many a manuscript to countless agents and publishers, only for them to be returned in various conditions. Once a copy of one of our books came back in tatters with coffee cup rings all over it!
We have had some very encouraging rejections letters (if that’s not an oxymoron!) which is why I am still trying to get these books to fly.
What I didn’t know, back then, was that you have to be something of a writer to do this in the first place, as you won’t keep coming up with even half decent posts if you cannot string more than a few interesting words together.
I have gradually learnt the discipline of writing, learnt that I write best first thing in the morning and am fast learning the necessity of writing legible, more detailed notes.
I am sure there are so many things still to learn, and one of them just has to be the secret of flying…
© Jaye Marie 2021
Billy was grandads neighbour when they were kids
Billy would be late for school, meeting his friends
They would get fed up waiting, leaving him to catch up
His mum said it was because he was a little behind the other kids.
He didn’t walk until he was two and a half
Even then, he would rather crawl, or sit where they left him.
Things didn’t get better with age, and he’s on a warning from work.
Those that know him will tell you he would be late for his own funeral.
No point telling him to pull his socks up.
His boss had blown those words into the wind
Did he feel the smack as they returned?
William, as he liked to be called, now he was all grown,
took up running, hoping it would help his timekeeping
William loved his job at the kennels, as the animals never judged him
Looking at his watch, he knew he would never make it
As he started running, his feet came up from the ground,
running faster than the wind, with two minutes to spare, he made it.
From that day on, he arrived on time, helped by the wind at his back
That was how grandad told the story.
When I asked if anyone had seen him with his feet above the ground
I did, he said. And Johnny Faux, my best mate…
© Anita Dawes 2021
August 13, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a first flight. It can be anything or anyone that flies. What is significant about the first? Go where the prompt leads!
As we grow older
We tend care a little more
About the young ones
Children, animals, it doesn’t matter
If they’re young
We acquire a mothering apron
Fussing over their first steps
Eager that they don’t fall
A fall may put them off trying
God helps us when it comes to their
first steps to foraging for themselves
Mother mode goes into overdrive
Unfortunately, we cannot keep the door
closed to the grown-up world
Wanting to, can’t make it so
You can only hope and pray
That you did a good job
Trust that you have
And let go…
©anitadawes 2020
Did I just grab the tail end of a plane
As it took off?
Am I soaring high above the earth?
How or why I am doing this
I cannot tell
I should not be able to breathe
My body should freeze at this altitude
Yet the air feels soft, gentle
Helping me to hold on
It wants me here to witness
The earth below in all its glory
At the same time
To know how it feels
To be free of all restraints
The clouds brush against my skin
The soft touch of cotton wool
Childhood footsteps
run through my mind
reminding me of mother’s gentle touch
the air pulls me forward
old memories drift away
I can feel my soul rewriting my future
As I let go of the plane…
©anitadawes 2020
Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie 