Too Busy to Write?

I have had such an amazing time, these last 2 weeks, with these prompts my husband has been giving me. The response and the conversations that have flared up with other novice writers has been heartwarming and encouraging as well.

Some people have mentioned to me, that they want to write, but they are too busy to. May I just say...
Life is busy and there are many hats we all wear in a day. From taxi driver to chef and cashier to mediator it doesn't matter if we are a parent or a student, distractions are all around us. Things fill our days, some are important and need to be done and some could wait a day or two. That being said, these prompts are not meant to consume you and keep you at a distance from your regular daily life. You should not be sitting staring at a computer while the dinner is burning on the stove and the baby is crying. However, while you sit there in math class (okay maybe not math class - wherever you are), you could be thinking about the prompt and if you come up with an idea, jot it down in a little notebook you can pull out later, when you have time to sit and write.

If creative writing is about as much fun as doing your taxes. Don't do it.

But, if you feel compelled to share stories, and get excited to create word pictures, then do it. Find some time. It feels good, and who knows, maybe your words may encourage someone.

"A good writer is always a beginner, because writing is a process of continual growth." 

Laurie E. Rozakis

We are all in continual growth, lets help each other grow!

I have a response from another writer who would like to share their work from Noteworthy Prompt #2. It's exciting to see how unique each story is, although the prompt is the same. Thank-you for sharing them!

"Write about one sock," my husband snickered, then added with a gleam in his eyes, "in the voice of the sock."

By Natasja Panchuk 

An ominous purring sound could be heard in the darkness, drowning out my last crumbs of courage and forcing out the last rays of light. Burning water poured in from an unknown source, like liquid fire, flooding the cramped space and muffling the silent screams that never escaped their hosts. The water level was rising, and so was the level of panic in the atmosphere; watery white bubbles started to foam, choking me, and a horrible whirring sends us all spinning, slowly and uncontrollably further down into the soapy blackness.

I've started to feel numb. Water sloshes around violently, passing through the very threads of my being, the chemical suds stinging the fibers of my core. And then, the cycle stops. The searing water drains away. And then we are spinning, flattened against the burning metal confining us to this torture. We are spinning, spinning, spinning until all the water has been sucked from the inside out. Spinning until we know nothing else.

Eventually, it gets too sickening to endure, consciously, and slowly I fade from this reality, creeping away to my own dark water, far from hoping to ever catch a mere glimpse of light again.

Thank-you for sharing Natasja! Your use of descriptive words was great and I could really feel the fear this sock had. Well, done!

If you have a story to share, I'd love to read it.

To read more stories from Prompt #2:

- Left is Missing
-  A Sock is Born

Thanks to:

- Natasja Panchuk for her unnamed sock story.

- Alpha Books for the quote by Writer Laurie Rozakis