Creative Writing: A Copywriter’s Journal
A few weeks back, I was having one of those days. You know, one of those days where it doesn’t matter how hard you try, you just can’t deal with people. A state of mind, I might add, not conducive to my profession of freelance copywriter.
The skulk of shadowy corners loomed with appeal, the voices of friends and loved ones sounded with an angularity akin to the Wail of the Banshee.
There was only one thing for it. Climbing into a nearby box, I mailed myself post-haste to the Amazon Rain Forest.
Two weeks later, I wriggled free of my cardboard casket with the grace of a drunken belly dancer. I’ve never been a fan of enclosed spaces. “Next time”, I said, mumbling under my breath, “I’ll just buy a plane ticket.”
It took four or five minutes for my eyes to readjust to the glaring light – it seemed like days. During that time, a number of things cast doubt upon my exact location.
The goose bumps on my arms inform me that it was cold. The sound of roaring engines dispelled the notion of some remote forest.
Where was I?
As if awakening from a dream, the haze engulfing my eyes gradually slipped away. There wasn’t a tree, lion or monkey in sight.
Rubbing my eyes more doggedly than a newborn baby, a tall wooden object came into sight. It was my front door.
A dejected acceptance consumed my person, the sweet sounds of “Return to Sender” filled the gap between my ears.
There was only one thing for it. Stepping back into my cardboard abode, I thumbed the digits for Royal Mail into my phone.
“Please deliver parcel to the Amazon.”
Chefs
9:45 pm, December 16, 2010
I was thinking of using your site in my paper, is that alright?