(photo by Nuttakit)
If you’re reading this there’s a fair chance that you blog yourself, in which case I’m preaching to the converted and you can go off & do something more efficient with your time if you wish. If you don’t then I’d like to tell you about tonight’s subject, writing, because that’s what I’m doing now. I’m not making claims about the quality of the writing, but if you’re reading, then I’ve written. If you don’t write, then do so now, well in a minute, when you’ve finished reading this.
Get off the internet, open a blank page and write for ten minutes or 500 words, which ever takes less time. Write about anything, what you did today, what you need to do tomorrow, why you’re pissed off with the neighbour and your dilemma about whether to stay or go. Then stop for 5 minutes and think about how you feel afterwards, good innit?
I was reminded about this today by offspring #2. He worries a lot about things, things that are very important for him, things, that try as I might, after half an hour of going round in circles, drive me up the wall. I know offering solutions isn’t the answer, I’ve asked the useful questions, we’ve drawn the problem, sung it, danced it, mimed it, eaten, slept and lived the bloody stuff until I lose the plot & yell, which is not the answer either, I know that.
So yesterday I presented him with” my own secret private diary”. Being him, he wanted me to sit with him and dictate, or at least spell out correctly all the difficult words, but I’ve explained that it won’t be that private if I do and as long as he understands what he’s written ( & even if he doesn’t really) it’s for him to write in, to help him think about and understand how he’s feeling without mummy banging her head off the wall. After asking how to spell “worst day in the world” he stomped upstairs and left me alone at the table in an “eye of the cyclone” silence, not that I was complaining. He came down for dinner much happier and life moved on.
Today was taken up with the usual, but after story time he told me where the secret hiding place of the secret private diary was so I could pass it to him, and he’s upstairs doing his thing, while I’m here doing mine.
In case you’re wondering, no I won’t look in it, I know from my own past diarys that it’s probably full “ I hate mummy coz she’s mean and prefers X, Y and sibling to me”. Mine were full of that and worse, but if you can’t vent yourself in your private secret not to be shared diary, then where can you?
Anyway, that’s my ten minutes and word count up, I feel lovely thank you, good night.