You can find Listening Divas over at the ABC Open project 500 words.
It’s day one of the project and we already have twenty contributions. These began coming in this last week.
There are some beautiful stories arriving into the space. My present favourite has to be Helen’s Puftalons. The combination of rain, food, and overcoming drought is just mesmerising.
I like writing about the everyday that elevates it to some poetic level and I think Helen has achieved that.
Yesterday I began work on my memoirs. Some of the stories I’ve written for the ABC Open challenge will be in there, others are from the blog here, and my personal blog challenges, some are written for writing challenges over at Write Practice and some are never before seen stories.
I am so excited about it. As of this morning the memoirs is at 25,000 words. I have listed several more titles for story/passages I wish to write, have a structure that I think is working. I’m not going to share it all here. You will just have to wait for the book. After all you need some surprises!
I might give a sneak peak now and then of the work in progress, but I’m having a ball writing it, so I hope you’ll have a ball reading it.
‘No I wouldn’t do that.’
‘I should be taller’
‘I need to run faster’
‘I’d jump to … the moon’
We loved to take over his stories. Sometimes our diva listening ways were so out of control they would make our storyteller abandon his tale and he’d grab out the Muddle Headed Wombat book to read to us and do all the characters voices for us. Tabby Cat, Mouse and Wombat became our friends. I read all the books when I had mastered the art of reading.
These stories were important because when we were very small our Dad was often away for long periods working as a labourer. Partly because of not having qualifications from his years in Papua New Guinea and partly due to prejudice over our Mum’s race he found it difficult to get and keep other work.
Our Mum told us when Dad came home after long labouring jobs my little brothers had forgotten who he was, and would hide behind her crying as the strange man with the overgrown beard came to hug us.
When Dad was finally home again for most of the time, we were able to know him again through the storytelling ritual.
Just as we were getting used to on tap Dad, he was away again to study and become a teacher and then later a librarian. Luckily I could read some of the books he had read to us so I didn’t miss him too much. Dad lived in another town with a landlady and sometimes we would visit him.
Dad hitch-hiked home to see us when he had a chance. This time when he came home we would come running out to meet him and my younger brothers would pipe up with ‘a story, a story.’ I listened for old time’s sake.
I was less of a listening diva because by this stage I was writing my own stories – partly thanks to my Dad’s early storytelling efforts to reconnect with his children.
For more on the ABC 500 Word Project Head to ABC Open, and check out rituals families have.