Falling off a mountain and getting back up again.
It’s been that kind of a year.
A rocket propelled start on the writing front with purpose, product and the heady altitude of confidence. It felt exhilarating and tangible and very good indeed – he said with a tinge of understatement. That was the Spring.
I spent April on the summit and then I fell off.
Life intervened, for a variety of reasons and all at once. The cad!
I plummeted, I broke and it has taken a while to piece the bits of me together. My belief most of all. I remembered I was scared of heights and forgot a number of things – including how to put one word in front of another. I missed the writing so much it hurt.
So back to basics. Jewel like, hen’s teeth, beautiful basics.
Making a pitch – to perform at a Lit Fest. Within an hour reading about it online and without thought.
Writing a new story - like chiselling granite at first but slowly increasing momentum. Submitted and rejected, but tucked safely in my bottom drawer and very grateful for that.
Listening to stories – learning from others (as ever) and just revelling in their prose. Smiling, clapping and saying well done.
Writing another new story – making myself smile. Thinking of a prop.
Chatting with some writers – who share the same pages of an Anthology. I must have been able to do it once…maybe I haven’t forgotten after all.
Second new story getting selected. Looking forward to the rhythm and frustration of rehearsal.
Writing a third new story – making myself cry. Smashed through the word count for submission but not sorry. May need a fourth.
Drawing on the wisdom of friends – who must have lived a thousand years to be so smart, but none of them are admitting to that.
Looking ahead – to more stories, submissions and performances.
My message isn’t triumphalist or inspirational. Life stuff happens and it can be hard.
But I’m getting back up again – you have helped.