I’ll be posting my story/poem for The Daily Post’s daily prompt once it’s up. But before that I have an important (and obvious) lesson about writing online.
I finished the story (which really liked actually) pasted it into the box and pressed comment. It didn’t have an error message or anything, so when it didn’t show up straight away I didn’t worry. There weren’t any more comments so I assumed they just hadn’t come up yet.
I checked all day and nothing came up. I was gutted.
So the moral is, save your work!
Yes this is so obvious, even for little stories like this. They could turn into a longer idea, bring up other ideas, etc.
But of course, I’m the moron who leaves things on the bus and train, checks everyday that I haven’t left the grill on before I go out (even if I haven’t used it) and leaves it on the day I don’t check. But I’m learning.
Anyway, I had a bit of luck today! I went back to just check if there was the slightest chance I hadn’t lost the post forever, and it had gone into the spam folder. So a nice lady put it up for me.. and here it is.
Enjoy!.. and remember.. save your work!
In twenty years as a therapist, she was the only I’d met who maintained eye contact. This was her third session, and she had yet to look away.
My clients were usually fidgeting in their seat, struggling to maintain eye contact for more than a couple of seconds. But she looked at me intently. It wasn’t a stare, yet it made me uneasy. Was this my problem or hers?
At school standing up in front of the class, I couldn’t bear to have all those eyes on me. I thought I’d gotten over it. I’m an adult now, and this person has come to me for help. I can’t let my troubles overshadow her’s.
“Now where were we?” I spoke softly, “Your dreams. Tell me everything you remember.”
She didn’t look away as she explained her latest nightmares. She gazed at me, as if trying to find the answers through my eyes. This time I was the one fidgeting in my chair.
I stood up and walked to the filing cabinet. “Have you noticed any similar themes running through these dreams?” I said fumbling, in the cabinet for a notepad, “I think the best thing for you to do is to note them down, any familiar characters, places…”
I turned around. Her eyes were following me around the room. I placed the notepad on the desk in front of her and took my seat.
Just a short session for you today isn’t it?” I tried to smile at her reassuringly, “As you’re going to see your mother today you may want to ask her if she remembers any nightmares you had as a child.”
“Thank you,” she said standing up.
As she turned to leave she glanced back at me and smiled. It was the first time she’d looked nervous. Then she was gone.
“Thank god that’s over,” I took a deep breath and leant back in my chair.
I stood up and straightened my skirt. “Janine, I’m taking a long lunch,” I called to my receptionist.
I needed some air… and maybe a therapist of my own.