A day to myself.
Today, having a rare day all to myself, thus far I have worked hard and still have several hours in which to write. So I am writing, and after all my worrying about whether or if I would or could, I find that writing has its own momentum and happens simply, without the angst, and perhaps because I decide it will: Note to self: Cure for writer’s block: Just decide to write and then start writing.
So I’m finally back to reading through my novels – YAY! – and after a year of leaving them lying almost fallow, I am delighted to read and review them slightly differently, happy to refine them further with refreshed eyes. It’s a pleasure to do so, and to trip through them with a clearer idea of why I’m writing and what I wish to say.
The relief of that reassurance – that when I have a day to myself, I can write, and that there is still life in my work that feels meaningful to me, after all – is immense and most encouraging, knowing now that I can work hard when the occasion presents itself. I know without having to remind myself, that the opportunity to write and edit is always beneficial.
Perhaps if I had realised and truly understood this sooner, I would have spared myself a lot of rumbling anxiety of the sort that hovers in the background and occasionally bursts through in moments of self-doubt. Increasingly, I realise that everything we do has its time and place. And occasionally, this means that fallow periods in the field of writing are meant to arrive and stay with us, to allow us to rest and regroup, learning differently and coming back to our work with fresh perspectives. It’s no use constantly working at the hewing and chopping of wood: sometimes we need to leave things be, to allow them to grow in peace.
Thanks for reading.