Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer
10pm she said.
Write something and send it to me by 10pm.
Shit. It’s already 5. I have an evening planned. I can’t make that deadline. Shame she hadn’t given us twenty-four hours; or at least twelve.
By the time I get home, calm the dog, feed the dog, check my emails. Facebook. Instagram. Pink Sofa. Have a shower. Make myself look happy.
And I have to go to Dan and Peta’s tonight. I promised, and they are off to Outer Oona-Gularby Shits-ville in two weeks, so I can’t cancel. I might not see them for a year
Nuh. I haven’t got time to tap out some fancy bit of prose and get it off to Catherine Deveny tonight.
Not tonight.
Easy for her to say. Does she forget we all have lives? And dogs and Dan’s and Peta’s
Shit.
And I had some brilliant ideas too.
Could easily have whipped them up if I only had a bit more time.
I was going to rant, because that’s what women do, about how I had just been to a Gunnas master class and it had changed my life.
Hell, I realized today that I could be the creative I really wanted to be. If only I didn’t have to feed the dog, walk the dog, check my social media, and get to Dan and Pete’s by 6:30.
Universe, for so long I have thanked you for handing down a better than average life to me. You’ve been a brick.
So I’m not sure if you were asleep on the fucking job, or I’ve done something to piss you off. Either way, 18 months ago you really fucked me up.
I’m blaming you because my counselor says I can’t blame my ex, and I’m perfect so it can’t be my fault.
So, I think I have done a fair job of not falling over since then, though shit there has been days when I could have checked out.
But you know, I always had that bloody dog to feed and those Dan’s and Peta’s to see…
So the life I wanted, had always envisioned for myself, and had planned with my partner, has been on the back burner. For so long now that it’s burnt to high hell, the pot is ruined and the only think to do is chuck it out and start again.
Today, I’m a new woman.
Seriously.
Universe, laugh your arse off. Go ahead
I’ve seen the light, turned over a new leaf and am embracing all the clichés, I can round up.
I know it is easy to talk the talk, but I have found the strength, with help from an arsey classy woman in a sexy, body huggy, tealy number with a red rose on her rack.
From now onwards I am going to crawl the crawl, walk the walk, and one day soon I’m going to run the run. While walking the dog.
On the way to Pete and Dan’s.
Tonight a deadline. Tomorrow a lifeline