A tale of two shoes (or the writing shoes)


Put one foot in front of the other.
Once upon a time there was a writer who was lucky enough to make some lovely friends. She joined some writing groups and organisations and met lovely writers from around Sydney, across Australia and even around the world.

One day she took a plane to the Romance Writers of Australia Conference in Freemantle. She shared the journey with one of the lovely girls in her writing group. When they went to get dressed for a pirate themed cocktail party that evening, the writer realised she had brought with her two flat black shoes that didn’t match; a left shoe from one pair and the right from another. She had a decision to make.

Would she walk with a tilt all weekend or get new shoes.

She really didn’t want new shoes but she went to the Freemantle Markets and a nice lady there sold her some super soft ballet flats made from goat leather (Yes goat, sorry vegans). And she walked without a tilt all weekend (at least before the cocktails) and for the next two and a half years every time she wore those shoes she thought of the conference and her writing friends and what joy that brought to her life..

Then on a sunny December morning she headed into the city for her end of year writer’s lunch. She realised she had been in this writing group for ten years now and it was with love in a heart and a spring in her step that she slid the shoes on, her writing shoes and headed out.

It was a beautiful lunch with gorgeous friends that turned into cocktails beside sparkling Sydney Harbour.

And then the heavens cracked with lightning and thunder and the last remaining writers ran through a storm to get to the station and our writer and her shoes were soaked. Each shoe contained a small lake at the ball and when she walked she could feel it wash over her toes.

“How delightful!” She said. feeling anything but delighted by this turn of events as they laughed their way to the train.
And when she climbed into the car, where her delightful husband was waiting, she knew for certain her writing shoes would never recover and she sighed. And for a brief moment she was sad.

Then she reminded herself better to have good memories and a story but no shoes, than perfect shoes, no new memories and no story .

Monique McDonell and other writers at RWA 2015 lunch

View of the Harbour Bridge and Overseas Passenger Terminal Sydney


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