This morning’s writing prompt was, “Write about slumming.”
I ended up writing about the same London neighborhood as some of the other writing practice pieces have been taking place in — the place with Tomas the green grocer and Fredrick’s cheese shop and Lily’s bottle shop. It’s nice to have that established commerce center where people can interact.
I wrote about Jason, who’d bought a row house, and how he felt he was slumming because of his next door neighbors, even though his particular place was very nice. I found that I drew a lot on my past, from college days, when I lived across the street from a four-plex that regularly had the police over — we could hear the screaming even across the street. They had the most amazing fights, things thrown out of the windows onto the lawn, the washing machine that decorated the front porch, etc. I also drew on living in London in a doss house — I lived with a group of Ozzies and Kiwis — 10 of us total in a four room flat — also a row house. As well as here — because I can hear a *lot* from my neighbors. It was a good writing experience this morning. I didn’t quite get to the end, even though I wrote for an hour, but that’s okay. It was nice to be so plugged in and connected.
I continue to do the morning pages every day as well. I’ve been doing them a bit differently than my usual journaling. I’ve been much more concentrated on the emotional content than the mere recitation of events from the previous day. Then I’ve taken that emotion, and tried to infuse the writing practice with it. I was *very* successful with that yesterday, only somewhat successful today. Partly that’s because I didn’t get to the part I’d wanted to write about, but partly also because I went to bed with a migraine and woke up with it still pounding and had to take meds. I find it very difficult to write feeling as drugged out as I am currently. I’m still counting today very much on the plus side, though, as I’m impressed and pleased as all hell that I was able to write at all.