Day Ten: Happy (Insert Special Occasion Here)!
Today’s Prompt: Tell us something about your favorite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory.
Free free to focus on any aspect of the meal, from the food you ate to the people who were there to the event it marked.
Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice.
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
– Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
The biggest thing that separates you from every other blogger in the world is your voice. Finding (and being confident in) our voices is one of the biggest challenges in writing, and it’s easy to lose our voices when we’re worried about being liked by everyone, or when we compare ourselves to others.
While it’s true that embracing your voice will mean that not everyone loves you, the people who do will love you a lot. Exhibit A: The Bloggess. Is she the only person who writes about parenting, mental health, and cats? Far from it. Is her style for everyone? Nope. Does she have a huge cadre of loyal readers who are drawn to her unique voice? Definitely.
Write today’s post as if you’re relaying the story to your best friend over a cup of coffee (or glass of wine — your call). Don’t worry if it feels like you ramble a bit, or a four-letter-word sneaks in, or it feels different from what you usually publish. Maybe you normally speak more formally — that’s fine, too. Take a deep breath, tell the story in your own words, and send it out the virtual door.
Writing 101 day 10. Sanctuary in a biscuit
The mere thought of a Viscount Biscuit brings back a glimmer of a good memory buried in a time long gone where horror, uncertainty, and abuse also lived. After my dad remarried he took my sister and I to live in the infamous Blanche Street. Misery became part of my everyday life, I felt awkward and alone at my new school, while home life was unpredictable, while fear of violence ruled. So it was a great relieve to know that every Thursday my sister and I would visit my nana for tea; a break from the madness, a return to normality.
Our tea was a simple affair, sandwiches, cups of tea, homemade cakes and the treat: a Viscount chocolate biscuit. The image is clear, green jewelled, chocolate treat, a striking reminder of something good in my life, the love my nana had for my sister and I. A weekly treat, a Viscount Mint Chocolate biscuit, something special to look forward to and for a while take all memories of angry words and cramped conditions of Blanche Street away.
With many years passed, I had forgotten how such a simple gesture of kindness had been core to my childhood memory and evoked so strongly in a green and silver foil wrapper.