Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 43: The Snow Angel

This is the 43rd in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

The Snow Angel, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 13th January 2012

Word count: 594

Theme: family, father, loss, joy, pride, growing young, snow, winter, love

The story:

“It’s here, it’s here!” the little boy shouted with such joy.

“Calm down, calm down,” his mother urged him, “it’s too late to be going outside. Besides it’ll be better when you awake in the morning, trust me. Now get to bed.”

“Okay mummy,” the boy acquiesced. He climbed the stairs and went to his room, looked out the window once more with a smile and crawled into bed, eager for the hours of the night to vanish and for it to be morning.

Early the next morning, the boy was woken up by his mothers gentle rocking, and her whispered urgent words to wake up, “Come on Timmy, come see.”

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Being Creative Isn’t Easy…

Being creative isn’t easy, writers block just won’t let me go – I get a small amount of joy and then it is gone. Distractions do not help, so many things in my life deflect my attention to the important things. Unfortunately in life we must weigh up the importance, so work is rated higher than writing – because if I don’t earn a living, I’ll not be able to write anyway.

That said, I’m trying to reclaim some of my life, trying to close off massive projects at work, thus freeing up my time, and my mind outside of work, however as with all things in business, available resources are filled as immediately as they become available. A frustrating situation – however one that should not be moaned about truly, as I said I need to earn a living, and there are unfortunately many people far far worse (by a severe magnitude), than myself for whom lack of work is a significant part of their lives, and writing is far from their immediate concern.

We western writers have it so hard don’t we?

An unfortunate thing about writing in the grand scheme of things its relatively worthless, compared with the realities of living. However, the worth of simple joy is not necessarily measured by normal merits of survival, but surely without joy, we may as well not bother to survive.