Good writing takes you beyond your place, time, and self. I can’t promise to take you to any of those places, but I want to explore how far I can take myself. My goal is to stay committed to daily writing. Ok, let’s be honest, maybe three times a week to start.
I’m starting with the book, “The Daily Writer: 366 meditations to cultivate a productive and meaningful writing life” by Fred White. The book is organized by dates, so that’s how I’ll title them for now. My first exercise is below. Thanks for going beyond with me.
Daily Writer — March 16, 2017
Most people look forward to coming home. For me, it means giving up the security and community of the hospital. When I think of coming home I miss little things like the smell of the antibac soap and never having a cold shower. I miss always having someone around to talk to, even if that person is just a nurse who’s a complete stranger. After living in the hospital so long, it feels like a home. Home is wherever I’m with you.
Sometimes I daydream about living in a big, drafty farmhouse outside town. I look across the yard and admire its charm despite chipping white paint and a few missing shingles. I feel the wind playfully pulling at my sun hat as I tend a vegetable patch on my knees in the warm, fragrant earth. A short while later, I’m setting a big basket of fresh vegetables on a butcherblock counter and wiping beads of fresh sweat off my brow as I squint past the flowing gauze curtains and out the screen door at a friend’s pickup arriving in a cloud of dust.
Throughout my childhood my parents would rent a cabin in Northern Minnesota. Once, my grandparents came with us. It was the year I turned 15. I remember because we were there for my birthday and I got my high school letter jacket. There was a bathroom smack in the middle of the cabin with no ceiling, just plumbing rising out of the single stall. Every time someone peed, we all chimed in, “I hear you!”