Qwiller Writing Room

Each week we give you writing activities based on a particular genre and invite you to share your writing with us to read, comment on, be inspired by and enjoy.

This is a place for all to share their stories.


Monday, May 4, 2015

Freewriting

What's it about
If I haven't written for a while, one thing that will get me going is to free write and allow the subconscious to come through. A friend of mine, Rich, is making a song for me, so I've been searching through my writing for some lyrics for him to transform (as well as my voice). I naturally thought of the free writing I have done as the subconscious comes up with far more interesting phrases and ideas than I could think of. I do love how things are not clear (as life can be), but there is mystery and wonder in the collection of words. I love the playing with the sounds of words and even the look of them together on a page.

So see how you go, set yourself free and play with language.

What you can do
Freewrite for 5 minutes about whatever comes to mind about the following statements:

I remember
Do you remember?

An example

I remember
I remember the underground tunnel that lead to our father’s shed deep in the garden. He called me several times, but I ignored him. His voice irritated me, more and more since his wife had positioned herself in my chair at the dinner table. Could he not eat with his mouth open and chew his food like a carnivore. It repulsed me. She was just as bad. Although she made quaint little crackling sounds in her mouth when she munched the exquisite meal she had spend hours preparing. I have to say, she was a good cook, much better than my mum. Steak and two veg was all my mum could muster in the late evening when she arrived home buggered from work. She’d say that constantly. Jezzz I’m buggered love. They work me like at dog at the compound. Making French fries is no place for a woman. And so I wondered what she was doing at home on her own without me and my brother. Would she be turning on the TV, flicking through the TV guide? Perhaps she might tidy up the lounge, put our school uniforms in the laundry basket, and fluff up the pillows on the lounge, that kind of thing. After the meal, we were allowed to speak, mainly about our day at school, what we learned. Learn anything interesting today love. What they teach yaw, tell me. Noting much, I’d reply nonchalantly, looking sideways at my brother as he politely ate what was left of his sautéed steak.

Do you remember?
Do you remember the sound of the hollow breath that rested beside you as he touched your forearm carelessly? I wouldn’t be able to remember. His memory flowed out of his body and stood beside him like a constant companion, waiting in the wings to intrude when the body commanded attention, or maybe even a little love. So he told me one day hence that life would be easier if he kept his memory in the shadows and forgot to be lifted up by the spirits that follow us through our lives. I suggested, coaxed him into love, but not very successfully. He peered into the solitude of loneliness and I could say no more and so I didn’t, but found his loneliness infectious, difficult to resist. We sat at that table and hardly said a word, for years I listen to the movement of digestions and wiped the spit from my face. Sometimes the way to a heart is through the lingering eye, the tornado of publicity that invariably came despite our will to hold some semblance of you back. What could you do, tease the current flowing through your fingertips, but submit and stop fighting. When you’ve been challenging for some time, release is possible. Through his soul voice, I could hear a mutter, but could make out no words that made sense. Just the flowing of a jagged rhythm, uneasy in this world. Could you please sleep here, beside me so we keep warm? The blankets are thin and I couldn’t bare another windy night with the air tickling my skin.