So, I’m up for the ultimate challenge.
Can I, a humble Blogger and Social Media Coordinator, come up with
50 000 words in 30 days?
The proof is in the pudding.
There’s a chapter book, lurking in my laptop, that requires an overhaul.
Maybe… but maybe not.
You see, I wrote more a plot line than an actual story. Now, it’s time to write the story.
At the moment, it has been named “The Festival.”
So, fingers crossed, some time in 2020, I’ll be posting about it being published.
Can you be my cheer squad?
Will you support my first ever Nanowrimo?
For more information on Nanowrimo, look up
Support comes in many forms and in many guises. And it can come from any quarter. Sometimes, it can come from the most unlikely of sources.
I’m cruising towards the Renaissance years, where one realises that one doesn’t have to care so much because most people are more concerned about themselves. And not me.
But over my lifetime I’ve been supported by all sorts of people from all corners of my life.
And in this article, I’ll give a positive story about a person who practices a religion that I’m not well informed about.
Iftekar was a Sri Lankan Muslim who I worked with twenty years ago. I was 21. He was probably in his 40s. His reason for working was to support his wife in her studies to become a General Practitioner.
Normally, I steer clear of the three Abrahamic religions, even though I was raised Catholic. And I attend Bible study with the local Uniting Church.
But in my hour of need, Iftekar stepped in and played mentor and role model, and friend. This was important as I was a very socially wayward and awkward young person.
We didn’t talk religion. We just talked.
So, before I write off someone because of their background, I’ll remember Iftekar and what he taught me.
My hope is that this story will further cause walls to come down, regardless of the side that you find yourself on.
Spread the tolerance. Spread the love.