Life Writing is Sucking the Life Out of Me, But it’s OK, I’m Not Famous.

Thank you for joining me on my monthly ‘writerly’ ramblings. This month, I would like to share my thoughts on life writing.

Life writing is everywhere, on TV American popular sit-com The Goldbergs dramatizes the young life of Adam Goldberg in the 1980s, which reflects many of us Generation X types. Blogs, columns and biographies of celebrities are all around us. Imagine studying it – life writing in an academic setting…

I would go as far as saying most of March was one giant brain-fog for me. I didn’t do a time and motion study, but I’m convinced that I blogged less, I twittered less… Facebook? That suffered too. I started writing a short story for Maggie Melville Author and my WIP The Grit and The Wit … couldn’t finish it…

I am directly relating this to the life writing section of the creative writing degree I’m studying at the moment. Oh, the practice activities! Oh, the self-indulgence! Oh, the catharsis! Exhausting! (Don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying and getting the most out of my time with the Open University *hope no one’s watching!)

It’s ‘done now’ and I’ve finished the relevant assignment, (not about me). Here’s a little snippet of life writing that is otherwise going to waste in a notebook.

I had never been in a fight. Not really. My older sister used to ‘sit on us’ if she viewed we had done something wrong. I remember it had been particularly cold on this day in the playground. I also remember what she was wearing, a royal blue dogtooth snood from Marks and Spencer. In 1986, this was the height of fashion (for a middle-aged woman, not for an eleven-year-old child. I was wearing my older sister’s hand me down duffle coat. I can’t remember what we were arguing about … something to do with how to play a game. She had gripped me by the forearms, gaining purchase at the elbow and I had grabbed her back (how dare I?) It was obvious, however, who was going to get the upper hand. Without warning, she shoved me back so forcefully with the strength of her premature thunder thighs that I fell backwards suddenly and on to the wet tarmac. My teeth rattled inside my face forming instant tears, the production of which produced an involuntary laugh. I looked up to see Tracey from the year below looking all concerned with the blue of her wide eyes against her pale cheeks. The other girls were now crowded around the pusher, asking HER if SHE was alright! Goodness knows why I stayed friends with her after this, and for so many years asking her if she was ‘alright’. 

Happy writing everyone, see you next month for more ‘writerly’ ramblings, Samantha xx

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