The Little Things

Hello, old friend.

It's been awhile since I wrote on this blog. I kind of... forgot about it. Moving our lives to Perth, having a baby, and turning our lives upside down in more ways than one has distracted me for over two years. But I can hear the page calling me once again. Many writers know about this phenomenon. The page is always calling, but we only hear it when we slow down enough to listen. 

As the fog of new-motherhood slowly lifts, I find myself eager to return to myself. No, return isn't the right word. Re-discover. Yes, I am eager to rediscover who I am in this new-mama-skin, with a new little human that depends on me, filling my world with new perspectives and priorities daily.

This blog needs a purpose. It sounds odd, but my goal is not for my blog to be read. That will be a nice side-effect, if it happens. I just need to put my writing somewhere other than journals that fill and fill and fill, and then collect dust for decades. I won't stop journaling - that will always be a necessity for my sanity. But I need another outlet, so I am turning once again to this blog of mine. 

I've decided to use this as a place to respond to writing prompts and inspiration from books such as Wild Words and The Right to Write. (Hence my lack of eagerness to actually have this blog read, as it will mostly be a practice field of sorts.) If the occasional post strikes me in the just the right way, it may find it's way onto Vocal. 

I was just perusing Vocal, and I came across a beautiful little story about appreciating the little things in life. It is somewhat reminiscent of the Pixar movie Soul, which is one of my favourites. Sara Rose writes, "He was the most joyous person on any dance floor. He said he felt more alive dancing than almost anything else." Tears pricked at my eyes when I read this. I know exactly how this feels. I feel most alive when dancing, holding my daughter, laughing, crying, and spending time here, with a blank page. 

So in a way, I guess you could say that my goal for this blog is to visit that feeling regularly. To practice appreciation of the little things. To dance more. To laugh and cry and hold my daughter as often as possible. To see what comes up when I take Julia Cameron's advice and see writing as play, not work. Who knows, maybe I'll even get inspired to finally submit my YA novel to a publisher or two, instead of distracting myself with the safe anonymity of a blog no one reads. (Insert smirk here).

Let's just see what happens, shall we?

I'll end this post with another quote from Sara Rose's story: 

"But the small things, Alice... the first bite of marzipan outside a cafe, the summer breeze fluttering your skirt against your legs, the phone calls with faraway friends... life is made of these."