Take a post or scene you’ve written and find a new way in by rewriting with another angle.
So, a couple of months ago, I came up with this piece of writing, about Margaret and her dear husband, Walter. However, there’s more to the story.
Our free-write is back by popular demand: today, write about anything — but you must write for exactly ten minutes, no more, no less.
Margaret couldn’t stop thinking about murdering her husband.
Margaret often thought about her marriage. She knew her and her husband were stuck in a rut, and she knew that it was rut that had spanned at least twenty three years.
Margaret knew that her husband had been unfaithful over the years, and she recognised the behaviour that elduded to such infidelities… the mystery phone calls which he strangely needed to always take outside of the house, or the text messages he would receive late at night. She knew that it would only be a fleeting moment in time, and that their years of marriage would always outlast whatever indiscretions came along.
Margaret wasn’t completely alone in partaking in extra-marital affairs either. She did have one encounter with a younger gentleman, whilst interstate at a work conference. Whilst she was away at the annual Stationers Convention 1994 in Adelaide, South Australia, she met a rather handsome gentlemen who worked for a large competitor. There was some shop talk which soon became drinks in the bar, and then drinks upstairs in his hotel room, after much discussion about new ranges of display folders and folios. Suddenly he had began to unbutton her blouse and pressed his lips against hers.
Feeling embarrassed, Margaret had quickly covered herself up, apologised, explaining she was married and left the room. She retreated to her hotel room bathroom and cried for hours, wondering how she could have been so careless and nonchalant about the entire situation until it was too late.
But that was years ago, and it only ever happened once, unlike dear old Walter and his string of young mistresses. Margaret always thought it was quite cooincidental how Walter would start acting funny once the company got themselves a new secretary, and it was always just as cooincidental that none of them seemed to last very long working there.
However, one day she overheard him on the phone, ‘I love you too, darling. It won’t be long, I promise. It’ll just be you and I… I can’t wait either.’ Margaret remained calm and poised as she always did, but inside she was seething with rage.
Plotting and scheming his demise, and ultimately, his murder, she found herself watching numerous shows involving murder and investigation, and she was pretty confident that she had worked out a way to kill her husband, without seeming like a suspect and ensuring the body would never be recovered.
If you had to come up with one question, the answer to which would determine whether or not you could be friends with a person you’ve just met, what would it be? What would the right answer be?
It’s hard sometimes being so judgemental.
Do you strongly support freedom of speech? Do you think it should have limits?
I thoroughly support the notion of freedom of speech, it’s just that there are waaay too many people who abuse this freedom and really shouldn’t be saying anything because they’re so ridiculous.
Think of your longest relationship: describe how your love has changed over time, did you go from the giddiness of infatuation, to mad passion, to deep respect, esteem, and friendship? Tell us about your love story.
It’s somewhat surreal for me to even find myself in my current relationship, simply due to the fact that this is my current relationship. I’ve never been with anybody as long as I have with Hulk, and it’s been something like six or seven years. Admittedly, it probably looks bad that I’m not even really sure how long we’ve been together, but in saying that, neither of us could work out our anniversary either, so we ended up negotiating the date and settling on a date in May.
Our relationship is something so completely different to any other relationship that I’ve ever had, probably due to the fact that it is so much more normal in comparison to any other relationship I’ve had previously – there’s only a couple of guys that I would consider of having been in a ‘relationship’ with… the others… well… it was more of a ‘casual’ kinda thing… How do I write that without making myself sounding like a man-whore? It’s not like there were many… only like two or three… if that. And you know what, they all turned out to be crazy. Like, batshit fucking crazy. God help me if I ever decide to write about those experiences… hehehe
As for Hulk and I… it’s just different. I think because it’s been consistent for so long, and we have that history behind us, and between us, where we know each other. We know how each other thinks, we know how each other works in almost every situation. We really have become a little married couple… just without the marriage.
We met through work when he was my manager and I just happen to be introduced to him. I didn’t even know that he was gay. I on the other hand, wore my sexual identity like a badge of honour. It didn’t take long after that initial meeting before we first met up outside work… then not long after that, we were standing in the street talking before he went home one night before he leant in and kissed me. We were standing under the street light, and I’d been wondering whether or not this moment was ever going to happen. I didn’t want to come on too strong as he wasn’t ‘out’ yet to many people, so wasn’t necessarily sure whether he was interested in like that.
…turns out he was.
From that innocent (and passionate kiss), we’ve lived together in two different apartments, and built a life together. Sometimes it spins me out that I’ve actually become this person living happily ever after with my faux-husband. But don’t for a second think that it’s been smooth sailing – we’ve certainly had our fair share of ups and downs and arguments over the years – just like any other couple – but I just consider them to be much worse because we’re both so incredibly stubborn, and both know how to completely blow up, lose our shit, and hold a grudge for an infinite amount of time…
Having said that, he’s my best friend.
He’s the one who always pulls me into line when I’m being a dick; he helps do my thinking for me when I’m about to fire off an abusive email; he’s the only person that I want to be with when I’m having a shit day. He calms me down. He’s the one that I come home to. He’s the one that I curl up to at night in bed. He’s the one who lets me share his pillow (and drool on it in my sleep) and not give a shit.
I love him.
I will always love him.
...I don't do laundry.
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