We were the picture of contented love: my hair smelled like a wet dog left standing in a mouldy basement for two days but he cradled me in his arms anyway; the strings from his nose-tampons caressing my ear and his shallow mouth-breathing warm on my neck.
With all the ugly going on in the world, I think it’s important to flex our optimism muscle (mine’s pretty small) once in a while. Celebrate life in all it’s flow of happy weirdness. Make damn certain to remind ourselves that the majority of earthlings are great people, and that it’s only a tiny minority fugging up the air.
While human suffering is completely necessary in fiction to hold a reader’s attention, I get stuck there a lot. But I want to be able to write about good too. More than that, I want my imagination to go there automatically once in a while. But without resorting to cheesiness: #cheerynotcheesy.
So, to flex and strengthen my optimism muscle, I’m going to commit to writing one optimistic / happy / friendly sentence / paragraph a day. One whole optimistic / happy / friendly sentence / paragraph a day? I hear you ask … Yes. One is enough. And I might even have to make it every two days, or every day starting in a ’T’…
I’m going to post them here and please comment if you feel I’ve not quite reached ‘cheery’ yet, or if I’ve flown too close to ‘cheesy’, and post your own happy sentence in the comments, or on twitter with #positiveproseproject so we can all be happy happies together.
My first is up top. OK, I was going for positive and my brain fed me a kind of gross … humour .. ? erotica .. ?.