Writing in the rain

by little red pen

So, it’s been raining for days and I’m thinking about writing. The carport’s flooded, my shoes leak, my partner’s boss is coming for dinner, and in 15 minutes I have to pick up my son from childcare, but for those 15 minutes I want to let the rain come down and wash my thoughts clean.

And slowly I’ll centre on the likeness of writing to rain. In the gentle-hard-light-dark-joyful-drowning-stomping-on-off play of it, in the desperation of the rain dance and the misery of the flood, in the jolt of a kiss in it, and the warmth of shelter within it, these two — writing and rain — might be cousins, falling together.

Yes, maybe this is how I’ll start, with a thought and a beat, with a grey sky and my love of it, my fury and my love.