Fridays With Rainbow

 One of the outcomes of taking two classes in writing last year was the ability to reconnect with my long-time friend Rainbow again.

Rainbow, as very early adopters of this blog might recall, was a coworker from 2005 to 2007. She eventually wandered off to another job (and then another job and then another job; these things happen); while I wandered to what became Hammerfall and thence to New Home. We had kept in contact over the years, mostly in bits and pieces because life gets busy.

I took the initial writing class (and its follow up one) at her recommendation. Suddenly, I found myself in need of an accountability buddy for writing and we apparently had the "excuse" we needed to make it a priority.  And so now for 6 months or more, we speak more or less every week on Fridays.

Oddly enough, writing only figures into about 20% of the conversation.  80% of the conversation is mostly about moral support - sometimes for writing, sometimes for life in general.

For me, of course, this could not have come at a better time.  As you know if you have followed along, it has been something of a year to date.  And so I could wail, complain, berate, and snarl into the phone with a listening ear that was far enough removed from the situation to be objective but close enough to my life to understand everything that had gotten us to this point.

I do the same of course; after all, support networks to work have to work both ways.  And the same thing is in play:  I know enough of her life to understand why she is where she is and am far enough out to comment in a way that someone closer might not be.

She also encourages me in my writing.

As I have noted recently, writing has been a challenge of late - and non-blog related writing, even more.  In a way, that is not the best of things, as non-blog writing is possibly an avenue to make other things possible.  I can always find reasons why something has come up or why I just do not "feel like" writing.

I can.  But talking to Rainbow, I cannot.

Giving her my rundown of weekend activities two weeks ago, she made the comment "And write, yes?  We are going to write?" 

"Sure" I said, glibly promising the moon without thinking about it. Until Saturday came and I was sitting in the hotel room at a loose end.  The conversation crept into my mind, along with the fact that the question would eventually come.

And so, I wrote.

It was a terrible short story, rather predictable zombie fiction based on a location I had seen during one of my walks here.  But I persevered and kept writing, all 1770 words of it.  At the end of it, rather disgusted with my perceived lack of originality and rather generic voice.  But I did it.

I let Rainbow know. "I am sure it is great!" she texted (out of great kindness, no doubt).

This is what our friends do for us:  help us to do the things that better ourselves even when we ourselves do not want to do them.