FREEWRITING - Something A Writer Must Do!

I confess to my reading public, as a writer, I am frustrated with myself and my words. Toying with a story I dreamed of many years ago, I struggle to get the words right. Now, I play with words, doing something I thought I did not have the time to do.

Freewriting is the subject at hand, and now that I am scribbling thoughts, passages, ideas and themes into a journal, I find myself wanting to scream, while another part of me says -- Yes! Freewriting is helping. Do I dare to share a part of my soul?

Reportedly, a writer is supposed to think of a theme and write for ten minutes with that theme in mind. Duh! At first, I stared at a blank journal. A friend say I was controlling my thoughts. Eureka! With much reluctance, I admitted she was right. Control is one of my personality flaws, or, another a positive note, maybe control is a strength.

And so, for today, I am starting a new journey - writing some of the freewriting themes here on this web site blog. Now, I suppose all of you who read this (and I'm hopeful you do) will journey into the thoughts, characters, flaws and personality I alone possess. This could be dreadful, couldn't it?

Only a writer can decide and only a writer can appreciate the subject of freewriting.


Recently, while flying home from a press trip, I sat in the middle seat of the plane. A beautiful, blonde teen-age girl sat next to me by the window. To my left was an older, but distinguished man, carrying a brief case. He settled in to his seat, apologized for bumping me, removed his laptop, and started to work on a Power Point project. We made small talk. I introduced myself mentioning that I was a writer headed to a press trip to Hot Springs, Arkansas. He was scheduled for business meetings with a development group in Little Rock. On Friday afternoon, he planned to escape to play a round or two of golf. Sitting in the middle, I felt as if I was the entree ready to be served at an ala carte dinner. Leaning forward, I stared out the window. The young girl next to me phoned someone, and when she heard the familiar voice on the cell phone line, she started to cry.

"Daddy, I'm scared. I know you said I'd be OK, but I don't like airplanes."

She hung up the phone, turned it off and cried while staring out the window.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine. I’ve never flown before, and today is my birthday. I’m eighteen today and I’m all alone. That was my dad on the phone. He said I’d be all right. How does he know? What if something happens to me? I don't wanna see it, if something happens.”

I touched her hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s your birthday. Nothing can go wrong on your birthday. You are stepping into the future now. You'll be fine.”

She sniffed. “You like the window, don’t you?”

Realizing how I stared out the window, I smiled. “I’ve always liked windows. They encourage us to go out into the world to make a life.”

She thanked me for my kindness. I offered to let her exchange seats but she declined.

A few minutes later, her breathing relaxed and I realized she was fast asleep. Staring out by her window, my mind drifted to the opportunities and adventures in life, all built with a theme of windows.

When our plane landed safely, the pretty young girl thanked me for making her feel better. "My name's Amanda."

"Happy birthday, Amanda."

Quickly, we gathered our belongings and parted. I saw her chatting with a group of girls as we waited for our luggage. Her eyes were radiant, and I knew Amanda was headed on to an exciting adventure on her eighteen birthday.

Windows have always given me a feeling of warmth. As a small child, I stared outside by the window, during a cold winter day, and when it rained, I would sit by the window, counting the raindrops. Windows have always welcomed me.

When I was a teenager, I found my grandmother sobbing uncontrollably one day while she sat on the floor of her bedroom, looking out the window. I knocked at her door. “Grammy, are you all right?”

“Yes. Just burdened. When I have a burden, I always come to my window to pray, so God will hear me and lift my burden.”

I was fifteen. Grammy was battling breast cancer. My parents were divorcing. My mother and I were fighting like cats and dogs. My life was falling apart at the young age of fifteen, so I started to practice my grandmother’s insight, looking for a window to pray, to lift my spirit and to see that there was life and promise outside, in the promise and magic of the outside world held so captive by a window.

Windows reflected the light, allowing me to see the bright sunshine.

Windows open our hearts, eyes, and ears to the journey of life. Looking out the window of my home, I see trees swaying, dancing a graceful ballet as the wind kisses the limbs of each tree. Birds are bathing in the birdbath. The sun beams brightly and I am thankful for another beautiful morning.

Like people, windows come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Windows are a gateway for opportunity and the future.

Open your windows and start your journey into life.