The day started with the sound of an annoying alarm clock. He quickly turned it off before Michelle would wake up, she needed her morning beauty sleep. He lay down in his bed for another moment, stretching his ever aching lower back, trying to figure out which day was it today, as if his mind needed a push on a reset button. But as he sat down on the side of his bed, feeling the familiar lack of motivation creeping in, a provoking thought came into his mind. ‘What if today was my last day?’.
The following morning Will and James were driving the car in silence, not mentioning last night’s events. As Will pulled over to drop his mate off at the hospital, he whispered “Do you think he’s alright that guy? We kind of left him out there in the dark injured, you know”. He looked away as James leaned back against the window. “Are you kidding me? He got what he deserved. Toughen up dude, what’s wrong with you?”.
“What did you say?” he called out in anger. “I said G’day”, the guy responded in a very calm voice. James looked at Will with his eyes wide open in complete disbelief. “Did you hear that? He said ‘G’day’. The fuck’n immigrant is using Aussie slang”. “Right, where did you learn to speak like that, ha? Do you know any other words in English? You bat-eater”. James was already on his front foot. “Hey, why don’t you go back to your country, Corona-man”.
It was an early autumn evening. The trees started to shed their leaves, signaling the end of summer. That was the worst time of year for Jono, who simply hated it when daylight-saving ends and all of a sudden it’s getting dark much earlier. Jono was sitting in his car, driving back home from another hectic day at work. “I have to do something” Jono thought to himself.
As the whole family gathered around the table, Luke was scanning the room, feeling the tension. He knew people were whispering behind his back. He knew he needed to prove himself all over again. Then, while the entrée was served, an unexpected visitor showed up at the door.
Every Writer-to-Be tends to have these doubts at some point of their journey. Am I good enough? Will anyone ever be interested in reading my creative work? Or is it all going to waste… Another obstacle we face is how to get our stories out there. Do we have to find a proper publisher like in the old days, given the chances are low to ever get published? Or are there other options in the digital world to put our words out there and give them the life they deserve?