Writing in a Relaxed Atmosphere

Writing in a relaxed atmosphere, for me, was extremely hard to do in the beginning. As a single mother of two little ones, my mind constantly races through the ins and outs of our daily life. Once I finally frame my very own quiet time and place, the words came freely and surprisingly, so did the emotion I have worked so hard to keep under control.In searching for my very own relaxed atmosphere, I took a blanket and chair out to the campsite that my husband and I camped at shortly subsequently we wed. My husband, Kevin, committed suicide in March of 2009. As the assignment was given in class, I knew exactly who I would write to. Though unsure of what I would say, to whom I would write was never a question.Sitting alone thinking of what I would say, I realized why writing in solitude could be very beneficial. With daily distractions, my concentration is easily broken causing me to lose my train of thought. Writing a letter to Kevin in a place that held some(prenominal) special memo ries helped me to embrace the emotions and thoughts that I ignore daily. As I got comfortable with being alone, this is a rare occasion for me, I was shocked when the words entirely came. While the words in the letter came to me with great ease, the essay was more difficult.Even knowing that this was a letter that will never be rake by the person it was wrote to, I am extremely thankful for this assignment. I found the seclusion to be soothing, comforting and for once felt that I could be honest about how his actions made me feel. The noises found in nature were distracting for me at first. After I really got going, the sounds faded away causing me to lose overcompensate of time I spent on the letter itself.To me, it seems solitude and writing go hand in hand. The silence and lack of distraction allowed me to write freely and without interruption. Since this was a personal letter and it was something I was comfortable writing, I embraced the alone time. However, I can see that if I were writing about something that was not of touch to me, it would be hard to do alone.