In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that shows a hard place and a connection. It could be a prisoner who discovers friendship; a cedar that grows from a crack in a cliff; an abandoned dog rescued by a homeless teen. Maybe it is a reconciliation or connecting with students during a turbulent time. Is the hard place part of something larger in the scope of a character’s development? Or is it a plot twist?
Charli Mills is seeking connections; this is also the topic of this month’s #1000speak. This will be my 400th post. I’ve made a few connections in the year and a few since I started. The connections are sometimes tentative, sometimes surreal – like the blogger who sought a picture of my toes – sometimes hilarious, often gut wrenching and thought provoking. There are philosophers and rambunctious opiners, humourists and gloomerists, walkers and, I suspect, stalkers, dog lovers and horse fetishists, adventurers and conspirators. They all add to the oddest two dimensional tapestry that is a part of my life just now. I’ve met some in the flesh and more meetings are planned. So far they’ve been charming and well laundered.
They’ve helped me with this blog, with my book, with marketing tips; they’ve educated me about all sorts and changed my mind about other things. I’ve made some laugh and pissed off a few, and had the same done to me in return. So many have aided me as a writer, pushing and pulling me, Doolittle style, to the point where I can confidentially say… not a lot. By which I mean they’ve taught me to be crisper, more precise, less verbose.
My main community is, inevitably, those around me, those family and friends who’ve been in this for the long haul. But I’m pretty sure that a number of those who are somewhat disparagingly called the blogging community (which is of course unique to each blogger, like a infinity of Venn diagrams) will be around for a while and, in Robert de Niro’s classic expression in Meet the Parents: ‘In the Circle of Trust’.
And to the flash. And Mary. Where to this week? A happy place?
Rupert called, ‘She’s taken a turn for the worse. Her cancer is back.’
Mary dreaded visiting. Letting herself in, Gloria’s call was as usual cheery. But her face was grey. She saw Mary looking. ‘Cheekbones like Garbo. About time.’
Mary wept and felt guilty that it was Gloria comforting her. ‘Who will I talk to?’
‘Paul’s a rock. Rupert too…’
Mary shook her off.
‘God’s still here.’
‘I don’t believe in him anymore.’
Gloria put a hand on Mary’s stomach. ‘I’m here, every time you need me. Just talk, dear and we’ll be listening.’
‘I’ll try. Both of you.’
If you want to catch up on Mary, click here.