September has brought the distinct warm light of Autumn that transforms the rural landscape from pleasant to stunning. It is one of my favourite seasons with the trees changing colour, temperature dropping slightly so snuggling up with a good book and cup of tea is even more pleasurable.
My reading pile has expanded dramatically in the last couple of days after listening to a talk at York Library by Mark Edwards and Rachel Abbott. There is nothing quite like listening to enthusiastic authors to give you kick to finish your own story. I couldn’t resist a signed copy of one of their books as well as a jazzy pen from Mark Edwards. The flashlight on the end will be very useful while I burn the candle at both ends in the attempt to reduce my expanding TBR pile, write reviews and Amber’s tale while visiting relatives.
The problem with writing regularly is once imagination is allowed some freedom, it is a hard beast to control. I have been told not to read or use my phone (scribble notes for writing, research and the dreaded lure of social media ) all the time while I am away. The thought of not having a book in my hand or ability to write when needed, makes my hands tingle and heart panic. I am addicted to words. Being a bookworm was bad enough but now the joy of writing has been rediscovered, it has become harder. Past experience says if my imagination is contained and kept into reality for too long without a release, it has an inspiration explosion. Ideas flurry, plot bunnies come out in force and sentences materialise fully formed. Not being able to get these out in a tangible form makes me angsty, fidgety and it is all consuming. I am not a good house guest. Everyone wants to socialise and I long to hibernate with my phone and its writing apps. Like a secret smoker, I make excuses to be out of the room, snatch a few minutes to jot things down but I am inevitably caught. Judgemental tuts and the rolling of eyes always follow making me feel like a naughty school child. Other hobbies such as knitting, sewing and crochet are seen as acceptable in company but sadly writing and reading are not. Silly thing is, I am more grounded and less likely to drift off into daydreams if my hands know I can do something about the random thoughts that pop up.* I wonder if sketching and drawing stickmen is classed as anti – social too. If there is ever a time for writer’s block to loom, it is when I am in the company of others.
My local writing group has begun again after its summer break so I can indulge in two blissful, guilt free hours of writing, coffee and cake. These treasured hours keeps me sane and I may share some ramblings and flash fiction with you soon.
*Please tell me I am not the only one who feels like this. Maybe things will change and my addiction will become more accepted if I ever become a real published writer.