Quite recently I was asked to participate in a blog chain. A most arcane series of posts by an insane cabal of angst-filled, pimple-faced teen writers, a demographic of which I, for better or worse, am a part of. The brief was simple enough. It was “What do you first remember writing of your own free will.”
I was wrong. This is not simple. This is actually quite difficult. It takes a lot of effort for me to go back through the preternatural ether of my early existence, past dinosaurs, echidnas, sand and strange smelly things to pick up such a strange morsel of remembrance. I have however located it. It is my name.
Unfortunately, due to privacy issues I can’t tell you my name. So that destroys what may have been a wonderful, thought-provoking post about my name and its Hebraic origins. I learnt a bit of Hebrew last week for faeces and laughs. I can still remember a couple of basic phrases like the assertive “Slikha!” and the perennial “Ani mevin ivrit?” Ah, Hebrew. What an idiosyncratic language, like the multi-coloured swirls of oil in the potholes of the road of existence, you never fail to provide me with a sense of exhilaration and renewed enthusiasm with this grey and robotic world.
But returning to the topic at hand, I do remember something… So clear now despite its temporal distance… Like it was yesterday…
*bites capsicum and looks off into near distance*
It was several pages of a marvellous epic, a tale about two Kiwis (the birds not the people) named Tooa and Ayot. It detailed their whimsical journeys to the beach and back, and the start of a journey, via container ship, across the wide Pacific Ocean to mysterious Pitcairn Island.
In hindsight it contained some quite advanced concepts, like the futility of anthropomorphising small flightless birds, a certain human hunger for the different things (through an Avian prism), and a titanic struggle against the forces of nature in their heart-pulsing search for small littoral crustaceans.
I think it was at that moment, with my highly detailed plot structure, character profiles, and intricate illustrations, that I knew what path my life would go down. I knew that my lifelong dream would be achieved. I knew I that if I knuckled down, tried hard, pushed myself to my utmost limits, I could become an apprentice baker in a rural branch of a gigantic supermarket conglomerate.
Want to follow our blog tour? Here are the participating parties, day by day
October 15th — http://delorfinde.wordpress.com – A Farewell To Sanity
October 16th — http://eatsleepwriterepeat.wordpress.com – Eat, Sleep, Write, Repeat
October 17th — http://taystapeinc.wordpress.com – Tay’s Tape
October 18th — http://noveljourneys.wordpress.com/ – Novel Journeys
October 19th —- http://greatlakessocialist.wordpress.com/ – Red Herring Online
October 20th —http://kirstenwrites.wordpress.com- Kirsten Writes!
October 21st — http://incessantdroningofaboredwriter.wordpress.com – The Incessant Droning of a Bored Writer
October 22nd — http://herestous.wordpress.com – Here’s To Us
October 23rd — http://teenscanwritetoo.wordpress.com – Teens Can Write Too! (We will be announcing the topic for the next month’s chain)