I’m away with my writing friends again – not that far from home, just along the coast from where we live in our little village by the sea. We’re in Devon, in Lynmouth, in a smallish cottage, just big enough for three, on the banks of the River Lyn. We can hear the water rushing and tumbling past us all the time. When we first arrived, after settling in, I opened the door and said ‘good heavens, it’s raining!’ but it was just the sound of the river. It seemed lovely, and almost romantic, and the water dashing over the rocks is spectacular. Yesterday we put on our walking boots and trekked up the side of the gorge, following the well-trodden footpath and admiring the natural beauty and the sparkling, gushing water below. I confess, I didn’t go as far as my friends did, slowed down by a painful knee and hip, but I sat on a handy bench, pulled out my notebook and did some wild writing.
We first came across wild writing on a previous writing retreat when we attended a workshop delivered by the amazing Natasha Carthew. It’s something which appealed to us, we loved the idea of it, but for whatever reason, I’ve never done any, and I don’t think my fellow writers have either. So yesterday, sitting on a wooden bench while my friends carried on up the narrow and rocky path, apart from taking photos, I decided not to look at my phone, but to just sit and enjoy being there. Wild writing! it suddenly came to me – this was an ideal situation to wild write! It was a lovely day so my paper wouldn’t get soggy and nor would I, I was sitting on a comfy bench and not on the ground with a tree root digging into my behind or an errant branch poking in my ear, the bench was without a back so I wouldn’t nod off in the pleasant sunshine and with the Rover Lyn singing its mesmerising song – yes! I would do some writing.
I took out my lovely writing slope which I had received as a birthday present, found notebook and pen, and began. I didn’t want to just write a description, I wanted to use language to try and capture the the being here somehow. My first experience of doing such a thing, and it was quite interesting to just take in the atmosphere, sounds, smells and sights, and without thinking too much, letting my thoughts flow onto the paper. I slowed to a halt, packed up my writing slope, and walked a little way further up the steep path and came across another bench with a different view. Out came my slope, out came my notebook, and I wrote again.
I haven’t yet looked at what I wrote. Will it seem corny and trite? will it seem silly and superficial, will it prompt me to do it again, to do it more often? I wonder… (slight message there!)