Last year, I decided to join Cynthia’s Free Write Fling (her next one starts Feb 1st) and I began writing for 15 minutes every morning. I write a lot, but it is all formal and academic in style, and I thought that by participating in the fling, that I would free up my writing a little. It would help me to write more creatively. I’m ashamed to say that I only lasted about half the way through the programme, because I grew disillusioned with my own efforts. I realise now that this feeling was actually something I needed to push through, but instead I put the project to one side, feeling a little foolish for thinking that I could write creatively in the first place.
This morning, I read over for the first time, those little fiction vignettes I had written during that fortnight. And, do you know something, I don’t think they’re half as bad as I thought they were at the time. So, in the spirit of my focus word for this year, which is AUDACITY, I’ve decided to share one with you. I’m not going to try and explain it, as it is what it is. I have, however, included a YouTube clip after it which may help a little with some of the cultural references. I hope you like it, and if you’re interested in having a go at writing fiction yourself, check out my Tumblr blog today as the day’s theme is creative writing.
“Those hills are bare now. And autumn leaves lie thick and still.” These words ring out across the stadium. Voices swell with pride, and the intakes of the crisp, clear autumn air are unified. Side by side, the crowd stand. Shoulder pressed against shoulder. Knees close to the backs of those in the next row. A sea of blue, punctuated by the occasional white saltire. The Scots were, and still are, a proud race, and this is demonstrated with every match. The tartan army. The kilts with kebab sauce slittered down the front. The rugby strips with suspect stains. Aye, the party began long before they made it to the ground. Whisky fumes blend with the scent of stale chips. Red cheeked faces and full-throated singing.
Crammed amongst this throng, a small boy mouths the words, his voice too soft to be heard over the drunken clamour. He looks overwhelmed. It’s his first time to a game. He normally watched the match at home on the telly, his daddy by his side on the sofa. Safe and sound: waiting for the game to begin. Here, it is a different story altogether. He doesn’t feel so safe any more. This large crowd could easily engulf him. Swallow him whole. Then, he feels Daddy’s large, rough hand take his small, warm hand in his, and a feeling of security spreads to every cell of his body. Nothing could happen to him when he was with his daddy. Daddy would never let it. Safe in this knowledge, he belts out the last line as loud as his little lungs will allow. “And sent them homeward, Tae think again.”