The nonsense I’m telling myself in April
My NaPoWriMo Diary: Prompt Twenty-Eight
Ritually speaking
Until recently my three pages were an unmissable fixture of getting up: Pet Bee and tell her she is my favourite dog, make coffee (stretch as the machine limbers up), write three pages of drivel while filled with resentment, morning meditation (hopefully to counteract some of the resentment), dive into my computer for a quick cyber swim, walk the dog.
When I mentioned how much I loathed writing those three pages to two of the lovely people in my real life writing group, they asked why I bothered. Mind blown. Now I write something in the morning but not my three pages, sometimes just three words.
My dog’s complementary morning ritual is unaltered by this seismic shift. She shares out her night cuddling up with each of us in turn, and ends up in my eldest daughter’s empty bed… she lives in England now... I arrive and put down my phone and notebook, Bee lifts her head for pats and scratches, then follows me to the living room and hangs out there while I make coffee, even though she knows as soon as the coffee is ready I’ll head back to my “study” (vacated bedroom of my eldest daughter which echoes with the sadness of missing her whispering to the hope of seeing her soon). Bee traipses in after me in a casual…
