Recently, my sister Katie told me about a genius project she is undertaking and I wanted her to share it with you guys! She is a wonderful and creative recorder of her thoughts and history (a quality I deeply wish I possessed), and her newest take on journaling would be an awesome summer activity for those of you eager to get the writing juices flowing (or well-oiled if you’re on a break from school). Let’s learn more…
For a very long time, I didn’t necessarily identify as a “writer.” In fact, I would never say I was one. I was (and am) a musical theatre actress. Last December, when I had the first reading of the musical I wrote there was a press release that said “Join Playwright Katie Berger as she shares her original musical.” My thought process went like this: “Playwright Katie Berger? That’s me? Oh, yea that’s ME!! Of course I’m a writer! I literally write all the time! It’s one of my very favorite things to do in the world! I wrote a musical!” Anyway, since then I have been asked numerous times for advice and even though I feel very unqualified to give tips of any kind I always say “Make sure you write every day, even if it’s only a sentence.” Thus my newest project was born. Every day for a year, I will be writing a one sentence story. By the end of the year, I will have a 365 sentence long memoir. A year is a while to wait though, so here is a peek:
She found herself hiding in every single song on the radio.
It wasn’t exactly that she was heart broken but the rain relentlessly fell on her umbrella and she was definitely glad it wasn’t sunny.
She loved them so much that she absolutely would, without question, stay trapped in a mine if it meant she could hallucinate from lack of oxygen with them, and she took great comfort in the fact that they felt the same way about her.
He could make her smile harder than just about anyone.
Let’s get married if we both aren’t, she joked, and he said earnestly I would jump at the chance.
Sometimes it’s nice to have someone hand you a beer, crank up the show tunes, and dance the night away with.
She looked down at her flannel shirt and her polka dot skirt and her knee socks and boots and pushed up her thick rimmed glasses and chuckled at the fact that after so long trying to escape the manic pixie dream girl trope here she was delivering a handwritten letter to a boy trapped inside his own anger and when she got back home she would probably play her ukulele and dance by herself to her Ben Folds a cappella cd and she thought maybe it’s okay to be a walking stereotype because this is exactly who I am when no one is watching.
She realized that starting tomorrow she will have spent more time on this earth without him than with him.
She laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe and maybe it was because everything always seemed a bit absurd on the anniversary of her dad’s death or maybe it was because she felt slightly feverish but it was probably because the response she got from her handwritten, heart felt letter was “my chinchilla chewed the paper.”
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