Hopfield is Writing

Writing

  • Weekly Writing Reflection

    This week I’ve written a few thousand words, and that’s actually good progress compared to the rest of the year. I’m working on a short story at the moment and am try to try the ‘story in a month’ kind… Continue reading

  • Writing Prompt: Cleaning

    I do and don’t like cleaning. It’s one of those things that I don’t want to do when it’s someone else’s mess or if someone tells me to, but I sometimes will like cleaning the houses of my siblings when… Continue reading

  • Missed Connections

    I stare at my reflection, too bored to watch the clothes tumbling anymore. It’s so loud in here but it’s something you get used to. I’m lucky that it’s a twenty-four-hour laundromat. I like coming down here when the gossipy… Continue reading

  • The Drive – What is that Feeling?

    A lot of the time when I’m writing (because I’m usually writing on my own accord), I’m ecstatic and excited but there are sometimes where I get so excited about a project I’m working on that I’m almost overwhelmed. It’s… Continue reading

  • The Christmas Edition

    She had cream coloured hair, with caramel streaks. her eyes were a variant of light browns, like walnuts without their shell.   A snowy path with lanterns dangling from the trees, dimly lighting the way with a little swing as… Continue reading

  • A Flower Child

    Her hair sticks out in thick, orange locks, like a bonnet of petals, the blondish centre appearing to be the centre of this little flower. Continue reading

  • Always a Painting

    There is always a sunset and a sunrise. A painting that drifts around the world. Changing and morphing but always the same kind of beauty. Continue reading

  • The Little Shed

    At the end of the trail was a little turquoise cabin. It was small and opened with two glass doors that folded against their frame. Surrounding the cabin, and even crawling up and over the roof, were flowers of an… Continue reading

  • Floral Dress

    Brush strokes like fine petals layered upon one another. With a skirt that looked like a waterfall of vines. Continue reading

  • An Autumn Path

    There was a sheen on the autumn road from the midday showers, lighting up the path with the sun’s glory. It made the dying browns of the leaves and thriving greens of the grass seem to ignite and flash with… Continue reading