License to Drive – Webster Forrest

At Brent, Wandsworth, and Westminster Mind, one of the fantastic projects that we run as part of our community services are the Creative Writing workshops.

Led by professional writer Tom Mallender (Write-London), these no-cost weekly sessions offer participants the chance to explore and express their creativity freely. Webster Forrest, who recently took part has given us permission to share his writing creation from the project with you.

Webster was born in Scotland and has lived in Switzerland, Canada, the Czech Republic and London. He studied photography, modern languages and criminology, and is a graduate of our Mind Collaborative Filmmaking course. More of his work can be seen online at youtube.com/@websterforrest.

‘License to Drive’ – Webster Forrest

‘That must be so amazing.’

‘A driving license?’

‘When I get mine I’m going on a long, long road trip right across the States. I’ll start in Vermont and go all the way down to Key West.’

‘I did that.’

‘Really? Oh my God that’s my dream.’

‘Well we went from Key West to Buffalo – not Vermont.’

‘Buffalo. Not as sexy as Vermont, but I’d take it.’

‘I enjoyed it. It was beautiful watching the scenery change so dramatically along the route.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘I mean – you start in Key West, so you go from storm-battered old houses with sagging verandas to that absolutely crazy raised highway that stretches out over the open water for miles and miles so you can’t even see the end of it.’

‘Oh yeah! I love that. I can’t wait to drive along that.’

‘And then you hit Miami which looks like a space ship crash-landed on a beach. Then you just follow the coastal up into Georgia where the road looks like a runway banked by millions of pine trees.

Savannah is just about the prettiest place I’ve ever been. All the old historical houses and the faded grandeur of boulevards lined with live oaks bending into the gap. The Spanish moss suspended from every crooked bough, gracefully caressed by a hot breeze. It’s intoxicating.’

‘What was your favourite part of the journey?’

I had to think for a moment.

‘I’m going to say rural Pennsylvania.’

‘Pennsylvania? Sounds boring.’

‘It’s mysterious. Those quiet old Pennsylvania farm houses couched amid dark rolling lawns shrouded in mist. It’s incredibly atmospheric; there’s something very reserved about it. Everything looks tidy and well tended. Anyway. What about you? This is your story. What would you want to see?’

‘For me it’s more about the freedom. Just being on the open road with no barriers, free to go wherever I want. I might just wing it and drive around aimlessly.’

‘Really? I thought you wanted a specific route.’

‘I don’t really know what I want. All I know is that I want to be able to sit in a car, close the door, lock the car, turn on the engine, put it in gear and then just go. Just go and go and go and go.’

She looked down at the pen she’d been playing with for the past few minutes.

‘Anything to get away from here.’

‘What’s wrong with here?’

She chucked the pen on to the table, sat back, and ran her hands through her long hair and looked away to one side. I could see there were tears in her eyes. Finally she turned and looked at me.

‘Nothing is ever about me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well take this story for example – this is just a writing exercise, but it was supposed to be from my perspective, but it’s not been. It’s all been about what you have done. Not about me.’

‘It seems to be about you now.’

‘Yeah well that’s only because I started crying.’

I scrunched up my mouth and gave her a sympathetic frown. She was so young. How could she know what it was really like to be free, since she wasn’t yet independent of her parents?

‘I just want my freedom.’

‘Freedom comes with responsibilities.’

‘I know. I know that. I do. It’s just – I haven’t really experienced freedom yet, so I’m – I guess I’m just nervous. And eager to have it. Freedom.’

‘When’s your driving test?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Do they issue the license right away?’

‘Yup. On the spot: like a temporary one – but it’s a full license. You get a card one later in the mail.’

‘So today could be your very last day of not having freedom.’

The light in her eyes lifted up, and her lips parted into a little grin.

‘Sounds like somthing to celebrate.’

She quickly held up one hand and shook her head.

‘I don’t want to jinx my test tomorrow.’

‘I don’t believe in jinxing. It’s a cop out. If you believe in yourself, then you won’t worry about jinxing things.’

She put her arms around me and gave me a hug.

‘Come on. Let’s go for pizza. My treat. Hey – do you have your provisional license with you?’

She nodded with a tearful smile.

I chucked her the keys.

To sign up for future Creative Writing sessions please email [email protected] or call 020 7259 8122