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 |   A tentative blog to test the temperature. |
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Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end. So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.     |
| Writing Fears The family that does things together, stays together, or so they say. That was certainly true of my little family last month, for December found us all (even a sister of my beloved wife) in the grip of the dreaded covid. We all survived it adequately enough, being still here, but it did prove a severe disruption to our plans for the end of the year. For me, the terrible thing was that I found myself unable to write. This passed in stages as January dawned and I have been back in the swing of poetry for a while now. Short stories proved more difficult, however. It was not just the greater amount of time and effort required by them. The small matter of inspiration was a major obstacle. The old brain stubbornly refused to come up with anything, even at the prodding of the most interesting of suggestions. I suspect that the real problem was not some imagined departure of a mythical muse. It was more likely that the mind, on finding itself on enforced vacation, began to enjoy the peace and quiet, refusing to go back to work when the nauseating symptoms lessened and drifted away. Yesterday I succeeded in forcing the brain back into harness and dashing off a story for SCREAMS!!! This was occasioned by a dream I had in the early hours that morning. It left me wide awake at four o’clock, thinking about the events in the dream. And then I realised it could easily form the basis for a story and that was the end of any possibility of further sleep. I rose and bashed out something with just enough time for a quick edit and prettification before the deadline. The thing is, I can’t count on having a dream every time I see a contest I want to enter. This apparent breakthrough is really just a flash in the pan until I manage another story. The whole thing may well have been the brain’s way of fobbing me off so I’ll stop nagging it. It remains to be seen whether I’ll ever be able to write anything longer than a few lines again. Ever. Such are the terrible fears of the writer in the low points of life. Word count: 376 |
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I've always remembered that episode and thought that was a fun idea.
Quite good is quite a good compliment 
As someone who just reviewed an item in your port, I can't help but wonder, Did I pick an item that you'd throw out? 
