I’ve decided to jump on board the “weekly project” bandwagon, in an attempt to keep myself writing on a regularly basis and to establish some semblance of routine to my blogging schedule. Firstly, DON’T PANIC, I won’t be spamming you every week with a regular instalment revolving around my children’s latest annoying habit, new tooth or bowel movement. Nor will I be posting cringe-worthy “selfies” of myself doing one of the fifty things written on a pre-prepared list *insert picture of me eating breakfast thumbs up here…* No, I’ll be starting something I’ve been deliberating over for a long while now; The open letter.
Firstly, what is an open letter?
An open letter is a piece of writing directed to a particular individual, organisation, group, event, day, piece of random furniture in your great grandmother’s house etc. It’s a letter addressed to anything or anyone that has provoked an emotional or thoughtful response within you worth writing about. That letter is then made available to, and intended for reading by a wider audience. In my case, instead of following a list of pre-dictated people, I’ll pen an open letter, once a week to someone/something in particular that I feel inclined enough to praise/appreciate/vilify/or irritate.
I love sending and receiving letters. The written word is my most favourite go-to means of communication. Give me a pen and I’ll articulate myself perfectly, give me a person and I’ll make them tea whilst desperately recalling the-25-topics-to-talk-about-when -you’re-in-a-social-situation, and eventually resort to “the weather”. So it’s no wonder, when I think of something useful to initiate a year-long project based around, I go straight to the written word. Although in all honesty it was my fiancés idea, if he counted up the amount of times I declared “I’m writing an angry letter!” we’d easily have enough letters to fill a book. But it doesn’t have to be angry. Ever tried a lipstick or contraceptive pill you love to bits? A trolley boy who’s really made your day? Irritated by a politician or public figure with their Rosary beads firmly wrapped round your ovaries? Or had a Charlotte York-esque “I rue the day you were born!” speech bubbling away inside you for years? The open letter is the proverbial soap box for you.
I find myself regularly, discussing something that’s managed to stir some form of emotional response, be it outrage or adoration, but never get around to writing it (if I had, Donna Hay would have scraped her home made macaroon mix by now – It just doesn’t work, Donna.). So instead, I’ll be documenting devastation or delight here, once a week – I can’t promise it’ll be on a specific day – let’s not go crazy, I said it’d be a routine, not a regiment…). But I can promise it will be 50 blog posts worth of better writing than all the paint shops in the world have different Shades of Grey.