Write what you know

Write what you know
He said.
I said
And what do I know.

I rake through dirty washing.
Sift socks and laddered tights.
Bin the too-worn and the too-torn and wonder.
My Mother said, when asked
A clean shite n spoon-feed fur a livin’
I’ve inherited the family trade.
And though I love the smell of wind-blasted clothes
I never get to the bottom of that basket
What words would I find there
Amongst the odd socks and dirty knickers?

7 thoughts on “Write what you know

  1. Haha. I can see why you'd think that. The reality is more – well… about how I often feel inadequate; not quite up to the task I set myself of writing something/anything meaningful and worth reading.
    A tutor during my Arts degree told me to go back to the drawing board – to 'write what I know'.
    I've agonised over the inadequacy of 'what I know' ever since…

  2. Oh I just LOVE this.

    The mundane and the hidden depths in the mundane.

    I've often pondered over that “write what you know” instruction because one wants to write something which offers deep insights or better still universal truths. And I ask myself who would be interested in reading about my daily trivial doings?

    But small details can carry big meanings.

  3. Thank you Chloe :-))
    I've spent so much time agonising over the 'write what you know' injunction – it's (strangely and selfishly) comforting to know you have too…
    You are right though – profundity is revealed in the smallest of things. Arundhati Roy's (my maiden surname too!) title 'The God of Small Things' is one that I love and my favourite, for that reason…

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