1st October
Hi, my name is Albie and you are my creative writing
notebook. I started the course today and I have been told to write down all my
thoughts and ideas in my notebook. Apparently the more I write the better I
shall become.
As I am supposed to get three
pages out each day I shall tell you a little about myself. I am Albie and I
have been married to Shelia for thirty five years next May, if we make it that
far! No, that's not fair; we don't really see much of each other so we don't
have time to fall out. She is currently in her study doing yet another of her
Open University courses and since I retired six months ago all I have done is
get under her feet. She finally lost her temper with me about a month ago.
Apparently after thirty five years of running the house she has a system and my
helping was disrupting that system. Shelia has done all-sorts of courses over
the years; she would be amazing in a pub quiz, so she suggested a creative
writing course. I always say I could do better than some of the rubbish out
there, so now was the time to prove it.
15th October
Just had our first tutorial and it was amazing. There are
so many levels of skill in the people in the group. I am somewhere in the
middle, so not as good as I thought but not the worst. One woman has already
been published, so I am not really sure why she's bothering. I suppose we can
always keep improving. On the other end of the scale Mr Garcia doesn't seem
able to speak English, never mind write it. But I suppose as long as he's happy.
After all the point is to write as well as you can, not to make millions.
I tried to tell Shelia about
it, but she's shut away in her study again. We don't really spend any time
together anymore.
We had a whirlwind romance and
were married within the year. We travelled to some really exotic places when we
were young; Egypt, Cambodia, Iceland, Brazil to name but a few. We had never
tried for children but equally we had not consciously decided not to. Shelia
was forty-two when she got pregnant and all through the pregnancy we were extra
careful due to Shelia's age. Everything was going fine until Shelia went into
labour two months early. Dusty Rose was the most beautiful thing I had ever
seen, her little body perfectly formed on the outside but unfortunately not on
the inside. After that I threw myself into my work and Shelia locked herself
away. Now through her courses she has some virtual friends but she doesn't
leave the house anymore.
I have joined an online creative writing group that post
stories once a month. I don't think I'm ready to write a story this month but I
have read some of theirs and they are so well written. Behind these funny
avatars and user ids must be some published authors, they are so good.
30th November
I have posted my story. It's based upon my travels with
Shelia before ... well you know. Let's see what people think.
I got some votes! In the group, Housewife65, said how
wonderful the imagery was and how it reminded her of travels with her husband
when they were young. Her story was about a husband and wife who have grown
apart over the years. It really made me think I should try harder with Shelia.
I have spent a lot of time emailing Housewife65 since the
last story. She really seems to understand. We have so much in common. I feel
like I have known her all my life.
The theme for this month's story is about loss
and I want to write about Dusty, but I just don't know how. It's not just the
loss of Dusty but the loss of Shelia as well. We both locked ourselves away and
didn't even let each other in. I should have held her, I should have told her I
loved her and it wasn't her fault, I should have gone through it with her. I
couldn't, I was too absorbed by my own grief. I went out and got drunk. How
sensible was that? I threw myself into my work determined never to experience
those feelings of loss again. Now I sit here writing these feeling out and I
realise how lonely I am and the one person who can understand I pushed away a
long time ago.
Shelia is locked away in her room thank god. I have just
read through my story and I wailed like a baby, only my baby never got to cry.
That's it I have posted the story.
Suddenly I can hear a strange
noise. It sounds like crying. A gentle tap on the study door. I get up and
there is Shelia, tears flooding down her cheeks and then it all makes sense. I
take her in my arms and hold her close. She is Housewife65. Maybe there is hope
for us after all.
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