So I thought I’d add another project to the blog. This one is going to be monthly, and the idea is that I choose a word and then write a (most likely) short piece involving the chosen word (poetry or prose, but I’m going to try and write more prose, since I already have a fair amount of poetry here). The idea is to get me writing more regularly.
The piece could be about the word, or use the word, or be inspired by the word.
I will consider suggestions, if anyone wants to make any.
This month’s word is inchoate, meaning “just begun and so not fully formed or developed; rudimentary”.
I decided to write something quite silly for the first one.
I hope you enjoy it.
Inchoate, his feelings swirled within him. He could not decide what to do. Should he have crisps or chocolate? He couldn’t afford both, but he didn’t want to make the wrong decision and open himself up to regret. After all, he’d impulsively bought that chilli-flavoured chocolate the other day, and he still regretted it. It was lying around in the kitchen, barely nibbled. He didn’t really know why he’d purchased it – he hated chilli. He was determined not to make that kind of mistake again.
What did he want? Sweet or salt? The crunch of crisps or the smoothness of chocolate? It was not a decision to be made in a hurry.
“Hey! You’re holding up the line!”
He jumped, startled, and looked around. A huge queue had formed behind him, and it seemed as though they were all staring accusingly at him. He grabbed the closest item, paid, and left without making eye contact with anyone.
Outside, he opened the bag to see what he’d bought. He sighed.
“Pork scratchings. And I’m a vegetarian.”