Doors

I've combined two prompts.  Again.

StoryDam Writing Prompt

Prompt:

Free write for ten to fifteen minutes about what is inside of you whether it is metaphorically or physically. Or… write a story about the above choice, will you find the key to open the door to your past, present, or future?

Word Prompt: Key

Sentence Prompt:

I held the key but didn’t know where it would lead…

Did she really want to know what was behind the door…

Of course this may lead you in a completely different direction. Follow your heart and write what you think, feel, know!

Trifecta; Week Sixty-seven

JUGGLE (transitive verb)
1a : to practice deceit or trickery on : beguile
  b : to manipulate or rearrange especially in order to achieve a desired end
2a : to toss in the manner of a juggler
  b : to hold or balance precariously
3: to handle or deal with usually several things (as obligations) at one time so as to satisfy often competing requirements <juggle the responsibilities of family life and full-time job — Jane S. Gould>
Please remember: 

• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words. 
• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post. 
• The word itself needs to be included in your response. 
• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 
• Only one entry per writer. 
• Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us. 

There is a door inside my head.  Or rather, there are doors.

One is the door of responsibility, the one that opens on orderly shelves. Where bills are paid on time and promises are kept.  The one that has my time scheduled minute to minute. Everything is tidy and perfectly spaced.

Around the corner is the door of dreams, where I have a whirlpool bathtub, and I can sleep until I feel like waking up. A place where I can all my own food, spin my own yarn, and make my own soap.

The door of imagination.  Packed behind that door are the voices of the page. The immortals that have a book for me to write. Or the stories of the widow and her late husband's dog.  And the tales of cats with more than mice on their minds.  

I want to unlock all the doors at once, let their contents loose.  I want to juggle it all into a manageable, glorious adventure.  

I just want it all.

Goal

the prompt: We want to know what your goals and ambitions are for your writing, in 300 words or less. 


A long time ago, I used to make up stories. Write them down and sometimes illustrate them.

I took creative writing in high school. Even a poetry class.  I wrote. I have little journal books of crappy teen angst poems. The stories I wrote?  I don't know where they are. Long decomposed in some landfill I expect.

It all got lost.  In growing up and boys and work. Then motherhood and marriage.  Yes the mommy part came first.

The stories were still there. Locked in my head. Told and retold to the invisible passenger as I drove my intergalactic fighter or horse drawn cart to work or the grocery.

Pieces of elsetime.  Glimpses of otherwhen.

I can remember my mother telling me long ago she could see me at a typewriter, mixed drink in one hand, cigarette in the other, cranking out books.

Didn't happen.

Yet.

But I have taken a step. Sitting in front of a keyboard, coffee mug in one hand, cigarette in the other.  Learning how to pull  pieces and glimpses of elsetime and otherwhen out of my head and put them together.

Telling those stories.  Flying my magic carpet through the Internet, babbling away to You, my invisible passengers.

My Goal?

Simple.

Don't stop.