I was thinking today I might actually share some writing with you. Not from The Point, or Shadows (you’re going to have to wait till I get I published for that), but from something altogether different.
As you know I’ve done a few writing courses this last year. And one of the courses I did was on Writing the Er(o)tic. Now before you go getting all panicky on me, NO, I’m not intending to switch genres and attempt the next 50 Shades. I decided to do the course because I really don’t like writing even a basic kissing scene let alone ‘you-know-what’, and I thought if there’s any way I was going to get over my fear, then that would be the course that did it.
It was a really practical course and we had to write a lot of short pieces covering all sorts of (interesting) concepts and at the end of the course we were asked to share with the group one of our creations.
*cue panic attack*
So I thought if I can share it with them, then I can surely share it with you, right? Though it is easier sharing with strangers than people you know.
The exercise was to write about our morning, that particular morning, in the most se(n)sual way possible. So I had a quiet panic thinking how on Earth I was going to turn my mundane morning into anything interesting, let alone se(n)sual. I mean really – get dragged out of bed too early by my daughter, administer her blood test and medication, cook breakfast, rush a shower, wake up the hubby and have him drive me to the course. Hmmm…
Then I thought about what the instructor had been teaching us, using all our senses in our writing and isn’t that what se(n)sual means anyway – of the senses. And I thought about that moment just before the day begins.
So here it is, what I came up with on the spot in three minutes. Unedited, as it was shared with the group on the day.
I lie in bed, half awake, half asleep, the press of his body warm against my back. Tick tock, tick tock. No sound but the small alarm clock pushed to the back of the cold, hard dresser beside the bed. She isn’t yet awake. How long before the silence is interrupted? Filtered morning light begins to show shapes; straight and hard, soft and round. He moves, unconscious still, pressing further into me. His musty scent so very familiar. Oh, in younger days…
Tap, tap, tap. Her little feet against the floor boards.
“Mummy,” she whispers, her voice soft, sweet; my favourite sound. “Can I get up?”
I smile and reach out my hand, tickling her tummy, warm from her night snuggled under covers.
I nod. My head is heavy…
As I said, completely unedited, on the spot. I have to say, being forced to look at such a mundane and everyday moment in a different light was a great writing lesson, looking for beauty where you think there is none.
*I’ve ( ) some letters in certain words to stop any of those nasty bots spamming me