Creative Writing Workshops with MACS
To keep our members occupied and connected throughout lockdown, MACS has been holding a series of virtual events, one of which is the fortnightly workshop on Creative Writing. The workshop is led by MACS member Megan Paul, who was born with bilateral microphthalmia and has a degree and Masters in Creative and Critical Writing. Megan uses her love of literature and creativity to design workshops that ignite the wordsmith in everyone.
Creative writing allows us to express ideas and thoughts in an imaginative way. It enables us to step out of the boundaries of reality and enter a new realm inspired by our own imagination.
Our Regional Events Coordinator Sharon explains what you can expect when attending the MACS Creative Writing workshop:
“To help jumpstart your imagination, Megan starts us off with a variety of writing exercises. One of my favourites is the ‘word bingo’, where she prepares a list of words or short sentences and numbers them 1 to 50. We all pick a random number and Megan tells us the word or sentence that relates to, and we then write something on it. In another exercise, we each get to pick 2 or 3 random, unrelated words. Megan groups them and we pick a line to write something on. It doesn’t matter if it’s serious or silly or where you wander. It’s just about creating something from the words given.
“So far the workshops have been absolutely fantastic and I would encourage all our members to give it a try and join us!”.
The workshops are held on alternate Tuesdays at 7pm and you can sign up here. If you have any questions before attending please don’t hesitate to contact Sharon at sharon@macs.org.uk or 07395 280 764.
Below is a story written during one of the sessions, by Millie, 10.
The Shadow by Millie, 10
The Shadow
You thought shadows were just the blocked light, you were wrong.
3 weeks ago I did a nice thing for someone. I thought it would have had an effect on me by now, it hadn’t, and it had done something much worse. I was weeding Mrs Trill’s plants and I saw something move near her front door. I had my trowel in my hand and I was ready to say “Don’t move, I have a trowel!” I knew that was a silly idea, but if I had to defend myself at least I had the weeding tools. Standing up, I walked cautiously to her door and saw a black figure there. When I was about to grab it, it flew over to the left near her oak tree. The thing grabbed some leaves and scattered them on the floor arranging them into words. Once it had finished, it took flight and headed towards the other street. I kneeled down and tilted my head so I could read the words. It said: I will come back, Arthur Blames. I was scared, I admit it, I was really, really scared. How did this thing know my name? I tried to forget those words whilst Mrs Trill gave me a hug for doing the weeding. I tried to forget about it while I had my tea; I tried to forget it at school. I had finally forgotten the thing the next day.
A few weeks went by and I didn’t think about it once. I was walking back from school Friday night and I saw my house was surrounded by police cars. I brushed past the crowd of neighbours and saw my mum talking to the nearest officer. “What happened?” I questioned.
“We’ve been burgled. Do you know anything about this Arthur?” My mum asked.
“How do you expect me to know anything?”
“It was your room that was burgled,”
I raced upstairs, ducking over and under police tape. I peered into my bedroom, it was a mess. Not the usual 11 year old boy mess, the ‘I want something that you have and I won’t stop until I find it’ mess. I thought, was this what the message meant? One question, what did I do wrong? Out of the corner out of my eye I saw it. The figure, it spoke in a whisper so only I could hear it. “You stole me Arthur, so I’m stealing you.”