Maisie

Maisie knows. Whenever I settle down with a book she is already there, fussing and purring, insinuating herself between my eyes and the page with soft determination. While I try to change position to accommodate her, she slaloms around my arms, expertly remaining central and obscuring my view.
It is as if she can anticipate every move and calmly prevent it with sinuous and practised ease. She always succeeds.
Even before I think of reading, Maisie knows.

Inspired by the news

This was a writing challenge to create a piece of up to 500 words inspired by something we heard on the radio.  Except this was on TV.  Whatever.

One by one Terri pulled open the drawers and checked the contents. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. It was so disappointing that this 1960s classic was yielding nothing of interest. Not so much as a sheet of newsprint to line the old pine.  As a furniture recycler she was used to finding odd and interesting things in the pieces she bought. Over the years she’d found postcards, old coins, leaky pens, ancient stationery and all kinds of cheap trinkets that previous owners had clearly not wanted when the furniture went for sale.

Just as she was giving up on this hunt the final drawer put up a fight and refused to open. There was no lock, so it couldn’t be that, it had to be that it was sticky, that’s all.  And so she put all her effort into hauling on the handles. Sixties design looked cool, but it was a case of form over function. It was almost impossible to get a good grip on the smoothly polished block of wood but that only served to make her more determined. There must be another way.

Taking a good look at the sides of the piece she realized she could probably get something sharp behind the drawer front, if only she had the right tool. Rifling through the toolbox she came across a screwdriver with a sturdy handle. She remembered the object from when she inherited the box from her dad and she’d thought at the time that she’d never have a use for it. She couldn’t imagine ever having to unscrew anything so big, and really didn’t believe she would have the strength to use it, even if she did have the need.  But she had faithfully kept the tool all these years because it had been her dad’s and she couldn’t bear to part with it. This box of treasured tools was one of the reasons she’d taken up restoration as a new career.

“Thanks Dad,” she said as she hefted the chunky piece of iron and placed it carefully on the line that separated the drawer edge from the frame, “It’s the next best thing to a jemmy.”

She pushed carefully and managed to insert the very edge of the screwdriver in the crack, then levered gently at first to see if there was any movement. Gradually she increased the pressure, then suddenly the crack widened and the drawer shot forward several inches. Excitedly she pulled the drawer forward and saw inside a printed leaflet. It had a photograph of a pretty girl who looked as if she was in her teens or early twenties with the tragic words “In memoriam” printed beneath it. Terri’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

Not NaNo 9 November 9

OK I’ll be honest with you. Tonight I’m starting late and I’m really not going to make anything like the word count I need to keep up even as far as I already am behind. So tonight might be a bit of a write off. What I really need though is a write in!  I should be writing about is Sheffield. On my way home from work I was composing in my head. It was a couple of short paragraphs about the city and it really didn’t have much to do with my writing life (which is what I’ve decided to call this epic). 

I went swimming tonight. In spite of Nano I have a life. (I can hear shouts of ‘sacrilege’ in the distance)  I’m also trying to cook a chicken, and it still has half an hour to go so theoretically I should be able to write for that long – which is worth a good few words if I just keep going but I won’t. I know that. I have to clear up after dinner and pour myself the rest of my drink and I also have the TV on – watching a recording, But I still need to manage it.

Of course, every word counts. And I plan to spend a deal of time writing this weekend so I should be able to get caught up ad in front, but I’m making no promises. I also have to go Christmas shopping, not to mention pressie wrapping because otherwise I won’t get my advent calendars done in time. I must be insane to set myself these challenges. It’s a bit of a telling point that I still feel the need to do tis NaNo ting even though my life is already packed at this time of year.

Writng is not just what I do, it’s who I am. I can’t imagine a time when I didn’t write. If it suddenly became illegal to write I think I’d die. (There’s possibly a potential NaNo novel in tat idea. Suppose one day in a dystopian future that writing was made illegal. What would happen?