Maybe I need a holiday, maybe (heaven forbid) I’m running out of write! I remember when I first started writing here, after I’d given up the day job, I would sit here and my fingers would fly over the keyboard as I tried to keep up with the thoughts streaming out of my head – my head which, by the way was full almost to bursting with people and imagined places and adventures and larks. I would write here several times a day, but I would also be writing the novel I was working on, and pieces for the two writing groups I went to, and the monthly challenges for the other two writing groups which I organised. I was fecundity personified – and when I was away from my writing, stories, current and new, would be running through my head.
I feel as if I’m unfit in several ways and on different levels – I don’t mean unfit as in not suitable or proper, I mean unfit as in not up to strength, weak, feeble, lacking writing strength and creative fitness.
Hmmm, this is no good at all because I still have all those people and their stories bumbling about in my head, I still have all those dramatic scenes running on a loop in my brain, I’m still adding to my mental store cupboard of people/things/situations/places/odd words – in fact it’s almost bulging at the seams.
Maybe it’s just laziness – I am quite indolent, or maybe I need my creative production batteries recharging – maybe I need a holiday, a change of scene, a change of air, a change of routine. Maybe I need to get writing fit by being shaken out of my lazy indolence! Maybe our funny little days out to familiar places isn’t enough – maybe I need to be challenged (beyond the writing challenges I set myself!)
As a side note – we decided to go out today, and set off to Street, the Somerset town near Glastonbury, a forty minute drive away. It was drizzling as we left home, the rain set in properly as we drove along the A39, the magnificent views on either side of the old route blurred by the downpour. By the time we got to Street, the car park was inches deep in water and the windscreen wipers were struggling.
We turned round and went home and had a cup of tea.
Lois Elsden 