Issue #3 / March 2024

Write Here Now Newsletter

Short Stories and Other Ordinary Adventures | www.jennatreloar.com |

It’s technically April, but this counts as the March issue…

March was a busy month. I got ambitious and wrote a few short stories that I submitted to challenges, competitions and anthologies. Sometimes it feels like these can be a bit of a distraction – but I’m standing by my belief that every single short contributes to my growth. I like to think I’m getting better.

Unfortunately, most of the results I’m seeing are negative. There are still a few things floating in the universe, but it’s all a bit dismal at present. My usual glass-half-empty self would say that it proves I’m not improving. Not moving forward in any tangible way. But I’m trying to lean into the NEW belief that every negative outcome is one step closer to a positive one.

In other news, I was also unsuccessful in securing a Writing Fellowship at the Centre for Stories in Perth. It was an absolute reaching for the stars possibility and while I’m a bit disappointed – I’m not going to stop reaching.

With March and Easter behind us, I’m excited for the next month ahead.

As I learned with a few good eggs hiking along the Bibbulmun Track in the South-West this past long weekend, most of the greatest bits are worth the extra effort. Even if it’s a hustle to get to the summit.

A Short Story

Prompts:

Furious Fiction Challenge with Australian Writers Centre (MARCH)

Must include a character who revisits something
Must include the same colour in the first and last sentence.
Must include the words CAMP, FAST and SPARK (longer versions ok as long as original spelling is retained)

A Thousand Little Things 500 Words | Under 5 Mins

Jarrod said the blue dress made my eyes look electric as he wrapped his arms around my waist. He spoke like a poet, lyrically sweet and smelled of sandalwood. I was glad that he was mine. I twisted from his grasp in our bathroom mirror reflection and made it seem like dancing. I promised I would be better, though my heartbeat pounded against my chest when he asked if I was ready. I smiled through clenched teeth. Habits are a tricky beast.

He didn’t like pictures, said things were better not trapped in the moment.

‘Just one, just for me,’ I asked in the sugar-plum voice I knew he couldn’t resist. It was a shame to waste the cotton candy hues of the sky at dusk. I held my arm at the exact angle I knew was right. My jaw relaxed a little. Reigniting the spark was our therapist’s idea and the Italian restaurant on Seventeenth Avenue was his. As if I needed the carbohydrates. The spandex and nylon layers were already an exhausting physiological negotiation.

He laced his fingers between mine, much better than lingering on the softest parts that shook when I stepped and spilled from the edges of functional underwear. I wished he’d walk faster and not examine my sagging profile with his sideways glances and school-boy grin. The twelve-minute stroll from our apartment was tedious in heels and I almost fell into the wooden seat he pulled from the table.

‘You look beautiful tonight, my love,’ he said too loudly as the waiter poured dry white wine into long stem glasses. My cheeks ignited and I was grateful for the cover of flickering ambiance. His romantic campaign was as relentless as it had been fifteen years and forty-three pounds earlier. His careful attention was like a thousand monarch butterflies trapped inside my belly. The twirling teacups from our first date. I smiled a little and focused on the checkerboard tablecloth.

We talked about elections, food waste and interest rates and in no time, six soft parcels of pasta glistened in front of me. Olive oil and wilted basil looked more like a magazine cover than a meal.

‘I need to remember this,’ I insisted and adjusted the focus of my camera lens above the plate. He shook his head and slurped long noodles from his bowl.

‘Just be here now,’ he said as if that was enough.

Twenty-one days of social media abstinence made it a habit according to the literature on my bedside table. At home, my finger hovered over the square icon I couldn’t delete. One little look wouldn’t hurt. I sat naked on the edge of the tub while I adjusted the saturation and cropped half my arm from the frame. The caption announced a return from my hiatus.

Jarrod was asleep when I slipped into bed, so I watched a thousand tiny red hearts appear in dark mode. Mine was a blue tick verified #blessed life and I was back.

Have You Heard?

Shake by The Head and The Heart

I love most things that this Seattle based band releases. This one is from their 2013 album Let’s Be Still.

Have You Read?

Maybe You Should Talk to Someone by Lori Gottlieb (2022)

I don’t read a lot of non-fiction or memoir and the last one I really loved was Anthony Kiedis Scar Tissue.

But I was intrigued by the premise: A behind the scenes look at a therapist in crisis.

My current manuscript features a psychologist in a not-for-profit pilot project who faces her own challenges – thus perhaps I also called this pleasure read “research.”

Who isn’t interested to know the inner dialogue of the therapist you tell all your deepest, darkest secrets to?

Next month, I’ll try harder to be on time. Hope you all enjoyed a restful long weekend. Hopefully the spelling and grammar holds up.

Your writer friend,

Jenna