Wow! There are tons of ways to get involved in creative writing out there and I’ve just scratched the surface. Having the Internet at my fingertips has made all the difference in exploring opportunities. In a matter of a few weeks I am now receiving information on tips and workshops and competitions and linking to others who are on similar journeys and that is all very exciting.
Last night I received a tweet on my feed about a 200-word fiction competition and so I sat down and “penned” something for it. I have no expectations of winning. What I love is the challenge. It’s a bit like school without much of the associated tedium.
I enjoy being given a task- this was to write a story about alienation or quest for belonging – and then trying to write for it. Taking part in challenges like that can only help strengthen my writing skills and stretch my brain in creative ways.
I made myself laugh with the story I wrote for that competition and it ended up having a butterfly in it too, which reminds me I should update what has happened with the butterfly I discovered yesterday!
The Butterfly Finale
I woke this morning to bright sunshine pouring in my windows and the butterfly flapping away in the jar even in its relative dark spot on my closet shelf. I realized that human intervention was going to be the death of the poor thing whether I tried to help it or let nature take its course. Its fate was predetermined by human intervention in the first place when it wedged itself into my window frame last autumn.
In the end, I decided it would be better for a wild creature to have an hour of fresh air and freedom, flying in the sun and surrounded by wilderness smells than to be cooped up in a jar for several more weeks in hopes of staying alive until spring arrives.
For the morning, because it was bitterly cold with the winter wind yet, I set it loose in a spare bedroom with the door closed.
At half past noon, while home for lunch, I set the jar on a pine-needled snow bank but it sucked its wings up tight together and started vibrating. It wouldn’t budge.
So then I second guessed myself and took it back indoors and set the jar in a sunny window where upon it began flapping around frantic again. So, with momentum on our side, I stepped out into the yard and peeled the lid off the jar and the butterfly shot straight up like a rocket into the blue, blue sky, then soared sideways on the arc of a wind stream and flitted high into a stand of trees before I lost sight of it.
I wished it well and a bit of joy for the time it had left. It was definitely the right thing to do. I smiled to see it fly away free.