Tag Archives: relationships

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Creative Challenge for the Creatively Blocked

Context

A few months ago, my niece and I were talking about how we felt creatively blocked. The inspiration was sort of there, but the will to create art was blocked. We couldn’t get anything out. We decided to create a group on Discord (OMG I KNOW! I’m so tech savvy) and set up a loose timeline with prompts that would hopefully help us do some creating.

The first topic was love letters. We had a couple of weeks to work on our art and then we would share it with each other. I had the first three lines figured out, but the rest wouldn’t come. I was thinking I would write it about reading or writing or something.

Then it hit me. I could write it about my husband Jason. He’s kind of amazing, but I don’t typically write about people (especially not romantic, sappy stuff, which I knew it would turn out to be). My brain liked this idea and started running with it.

a "selfie" of a man on the left and a woman on the right, posing at a wedding
Jason and I at my nephew’s wedding

When I write poetry, I generally do it by hand. I don’t know why it flows better that way, but it does. It started out as poetry and then started turning into an actual letter to him.

I almost gave up. I couldn’t make the poetry come out.

Then, I just decided to write the letter and make it into poetry later. This is what I ended up with. Hope you enjoy it!

Love Letter

for Jason

I never meant to fall in love,
but the shape of your letters
embraced me. The words
you create, though few,
helped untwist the spell
I was under. They teased
at the knots that kept me
in smallness,
in insignificance.

I was your angel (and sometimes
your angle— acute, of course).
I have seen your struggle
to arrange the letters
into precise words,
and then
to put those words
into the perfect order
that fit what you mean.

Words have always been hard
for you, but you try,
and try, and try,
and you don’t give up,
even when you feel
you will never get it right.

I know it would be easier
for you to build me something
that shows me how much
you love me.

What I’ve never told you
is that the way
you persevere
has built me a safe world.

Your words remind me
that I am divine
that I am worthy
that I am significant
and loved,
so very loved.

Elizabeth Francois 2026

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Lights

I am taking a creative writing class this term and it has been absolutely lovely. I’ve been doing so much technical writing that I forgot how much I love revving up the creative portion of my brain. I really wanted to share this story with people other than my professor and my work-shopping group. It had to be less than 500 words. Do you know how hard that is for me??

Oh, also, if you have any suggestions for titles, please let me know. I am the suck at titles. Here goes:

(runs and hides under bed, fearful that people will read it and fearful that people won’t)

________________

Lights

(c) 2014

The balcony clings to the side of the building, a metal guard rail buttresses the concrete floor, holding tight. She stands on the balcony, looking out over the city, ignoring the bite of the teal metal on her forearms. The moonless sky draws everything into tighter contrast. Her eyes flit from landmark to landmark, not resting long, not wanting to remember.

To the left, she sees the amusement park where they had their first date, Ferris wheel twinkling orange-yellow-red as it rolls around. She hated everything about the wheel and its turning, but he convinced her to climb into the swinging seat. Her hands grasped the safety bar tightly as they started to curve up. By the end of the ride, he held her hand, her terror turned to the thrill of the first touch.

Her eyes move to the arc of the cathedral where they got married, its bronze cap a glowing beacon in the dark. The memory of the day comes unsolicited: the bright white of her gown, the flickering of candles dancing in his eyes, the alabaster unity candle that sealed the promise of forever. The brightness overwhelms her, compelling her eyes to move on.

The brightness dissolves when her eyes touch the blue and white of the hospital where they lost their first and only child. Only the murkiness of the room remains—the room where she ached, empty where she once was full: alone. Her eyes fly over the void in the center of the city where the child was laid to rest, the hollow place that she never visits.

Choking, she moves on. Her eyes jerk to the skyscraper in the middle of the city. Its neon outline has held her husband captive since that night that the light left them. The late night meetings, the weekend projects, and the network problems claim him more than she ever could. The building looms over the rest of the city. Looms over her life.

The lights blur as she holds back the tears. With a stifled sob, she turns her back to the city, blinking away the memories. All she wants to see is lightlessness. It is no use. The lights glimmer back at her on the glass from the arcadia doors.

 

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Lights by E is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.