.To those of us who knew him– his friends –we called him Roy.To others he was knownas that horrible Toxic Boy..He loved ammonia and asbestos,and lots of cigarette smoke.What he breathed in for airwould make most people choke!.His very favorite toywas a can of aerosol spray;he’d sit quietly and shake it,and spray it all the day..He’d stand inside of the garagein the early-morning frost,waiting for the car to startand fill him with exhaust..The one and only timeI ever saw Toxic Boy crywas when some sodium chloridegot into his eye..One day for fresh airthey put him in the garden.His face went deathly paleand his body began to harden..The final gasp of his short lifewas sickly with despair.Whoever thought that you could diefrom breathing outdoor air?.As Roy’s soul left his body,we all said a silent prayer.It drifted up to heavenand left a hole in the ozone layer..
I had few attempted starts at writing. All shipwrecked on the shores of isolation. a.k.a. writer’s block. So I enrolled my confused mind to a creative writing course. First thing they tell you is to write. Write. Don’t think about what you are writing. Just write. Write down the first thing that comes to your mind. Describe first thing you see. Who you’ve met. Anything. Nonsense. Let it flow. Don’t think about it. Don’t edit. Don’t judge. And it worked. Something started to emerge from that cloud of meaningless words. An idea. Thought. It was addictive. It still is.
I have joined few workshops since then and there is one group I attend rather regularly. Are you not sure about committing yourself? No worries. One day workshops are synonym to fun and are filled to the brim with complete randomness, such as:
Small wall west of waste
hiding fighting trolls of Wales.
Fudge is smudged and judge is dead
Jet is off, the bets are set.
In this particular one we also collectively created a story about a unicorn, a lost lamb arguing with a robin underneath a branch suspended on nothingness and an angel (wearing a suit) stealing apples.
Go and have some fun. Explore. Get inspired. When normal people who happen to be aspiring writers gather in one room, magic ensues. Or madness. Depends how you look at it.