Writing isn’t always a product to consume or be consumed. Living in the consumeristic culture that we live in, we can unconsciously begin to view our writing through the lens of “good” or “bad”…Best Seller! or unknown thing that no one wants or cares about.

There is so much value in writing, just from the act of doing it and sharing it when we want to. For me, I write to understand life. I write to gain insight and clarity. I write to get the story down, to observe and experience more closely, to remember moments, to expand my view of myself and others. I am reminded of Natalie Goldberg who says, the writer lives twice; once when they live the situation, and again when they write about it.

Often, almost always, we must allow ourselves to step outside of the idea of “good and bad” when we write and create, giving our writer selves the freedom to write badly, knowing at least that we are aiming to write something true. If only for our own selves.

Don’t let consumeristic culture wilt your writing spirit. Why do YOU write?

I offer this prompt in the spirit of poet Rosemary Wahtola Trommer, “You can only do this right. There are so many ways to do it right.” It helps so much to approach our first drafts with this attitude, and if you get stuck, here is another secret: simply lower your standards.

The prompt: Write a childhood memory without leaving the child’s experience of the moment.

Here is the prompt in video form, with some additional explanation.

As promised, here is my response to this prompt. I had a lot of fun with this one! Don’t concern yourself TOO much with following the rules. (I’m not sure if I totally did either.) Just do your best and see how it flows differently from the child viewpoint.

I am jumping on my bed. Scott is jumping on his bed. Freedom fills us with recklessness. We know we will get in trouble. Mom just warned us. But this joy, this FUN, is irresistable. We jump higher and higher. I jump across the canyon between our beds and land on his bed, while he does the same and lands on my bed. We did it! We do it again, each jumping back to our own bed again. And again. And again. The rhythm, the togetherness, the physical challenge of it…I never knew this was possible.

The rainy saturday dripping down our bedroom wiwndow is no longer a monster of boredom. We are laughing. What if we add our pillows way over there on the floor to expand our jumping terrain? Scott’s laugh is infectious. He boldly jumps to the newly placed pillow, falls, and stands again triumphant. I am so impressed. I ready myself to try this massive jump, when mom’s aproned figure appears in the doorway, tall and tight-lipped. We are caught in action. There is no denying.

We get the sternest warning that exists: a spanking with the wooden spoon. Mom goes back to the kitchen.

Alone again, we look at each other, quiet and still for a moment.

But maybe if we whisper and try not to laugh. The new challenge uplevels our game. We jump in a silent unity that is the most joy I have ever known in all my 6 years.