Be careful of the confident step
The overloud voice that says
You’re headed in the right direction
Beware of the puffed chest
The broad smile
The straight line
Left or right?
Beware of the robust, the simply must!
The ad speak ad nauseoum
Be wary of the neat package
The known route
The well trodden path
With steel capped boots
(You do know that while they may protect you
They won’t prevent treading on other feet,
Look out for strings that end in decorative bows
And gardens that grow flowers
In orderly rows
To run to seed and feed another season
Beware of the direction to turn into a designated space
Nothing is wild
Everything is safe
Be very cautious of tall things that cast no shadow as you climb them
Lest you become shadowless too
Beware of finish lines that don’t exhaust you
Take everything you’ve got to give
When you settle for less
There is no edge
To the easy chair
Nothing to make you get out of it again
The horizon is but a comforting blur in the distance
Naught to worry about
A calm and cultured existence
No bees to sting
No pollination in progress
The winds of change
Putter out at your front gate
You have consigned yourself to a sensible fate
No anxiety ridden folly ahead
You are halted
A cautious person proud of your lot
Lack of failures
A whisper of unease appears
For legs can be severed
At the knees
Chaos happens for a reason
*My first novel is complete and as of last Friday even accepted by a publisher
I tried to deny the flicker of unease this presented
Isn’t this what I wanted?
It’s taken me till Sunday (today) to work out what my inner voice was all but shouting about.
When one of my sons was just a little boy he came home with a project to do for homework
Much excitement ensued.
I love a good project.
I looked at my son – he was sad, confused.
I had taken over his project.
I quietly handed the reins back but it wasn’t the same
I swore to myself then
I had learnt my lesson
Clearly I hadn’t
A few years ago a small feisty imaginary friend arrived in my writing.
Her name was Stripy and she told me her story. I loved it. I wrote a short story with her as my character and won a prize in a writing competition.
When looking for my first novel with which I wanted to target a certain age group I immediately thought I could continue Stripy’s story – she had more to tell.
The thing is because I really wanted to make this a “great project, a “successful venture”
I completely took over her story and wrote a lovely safe little tale that would sell easily and well to mainstream
Wasn’t that sensible?
Yeah maybe but it’s not her story
Stripy is far from safe and her story is more important then the ego trip I wanted to take as a published author
Safe kids are not the audience I even wanted to reach
And they certainly aren’t the sort that Stripy hoped to help
Despite a contract for my tidy little book close to hand and ready for the signing
I’m doing the right thing
Because chaos happens for a reason
Older posts you may not have read