Inspiration comes from the wildest places, the quietest places. Sometimes. This morning when I got back from dropping Sofia off at school. I watched a thrift haul video and then searched for music. Glenn Copeland popped back on my YouTube recs. I’d forgotten about Glenn. The song was Ghost House a song that I’d never heard, so you know according to my brand I clicked ha!
And started to write. This is what I came up with. Just wrote it out until it passed naturally. The ending is incomplete. The whole piece might be. The only things I went back to tuck are typos because I can’t let those go.
It might be crap, but it is organic as actual crap I suppose, and so is useful. Perhaps a line or word will be the seed of something better. Who knows?
I am the the Queen of obscurity. Maybe because I was left to myself alot. It is a thing to be raised in a home steeped in regret and anger. A mother who escaped a smothering country, house, for freedom only to get caught up in the smokescreen of love, only to find it was a false, false start. That sometimes it is just dumb to think with your heart. And then there was me. The stone in the stream putting an end (she thought) to that freedom. Though it was her fault for stepping into a trap, open eyes, thinking she was smarter, beguiling, but she was not the one and in the back of her mind she kept that, but still moved forward as if she did not have a husband or child, until her farce unwound itself and left her with said child, no husband, in a house that would never be a home, but an unmade bed, she refused to lie in.
Freewriting can be a great tool for jumpstarting your writing! I love this part: “ A mother who escaped a smothering country, house, for freedom only to get caught up in the smokescreen of love, only to find it was a false, false start.”
I appreciate the kindness.