oh gosh this really is a blast of cold water on me. I have dipped in and out of writing and poetry since 2013 but nothing sticks. It isn’t the main thing. God’s love and our love for one another is the central theme of my life. I do not think I will concentrate on writing in the same way again.
Writing is one way I define myself. I am a writer. When a writer chooses, not through writer’s block, but really chooses to stop writing to pursue a different way of life, I thought I would be left with a hole in my life, that I wouldn’t feel complete in some way.
However I discovered the opposite, I still had stories running through my head (for those Eurovision buffs, running through my head, running through my head) but instead of stopping to write these stories down, I let them go. They ran right out of my head to the story cloud somewhere beyond the rainbow.
I was travelling last week and started to write again, quite naturally, sat in a cafe, sat in the bar, sat propped up by lumpy pillows on a lumpy bed. It was as if I had not really stopped, the pen did not run dry and I completed the first exchange of an on-going saga.
I am a writer, but I am no longer a stressed-out writer with deadlines, I have rediscovered the beauty of putting one word next to another and another and making a sentence. God gave me the gift of writing, of being able to get under the skin, scratch the surface. We can all talk about the weather, I was reminded of this in Adare yesterday. Weather talk abounded, till I said one phrase and that opened up an entirely different conversation. It was good. God is good, all the time.