Image via WikipediaThe world appears to be conspiring this week. No, I haven't fallen into paranoid delusions. But what's a person to think when events and people collude to force one's hand? What is she talking about? I hear you ask...
I found myself shuffling my work engagements around for two days this week as our ceilings were being repaired and I needed to be home to let the tradesmen in. We live in the hills where the ground is clay and rock, and shifts with the regularity of the seasons. So it's the norm for houses to develop cracks and creases and weather like the faces of old peasants who've worked too long in the sun. Our house decided to go one extra step and require a proper facelift. She fell into her palsy, loosening her grip on sections of ceiling, sagging and waning in various places until finally we were compelled to provide her with the care she required. Yes, I do think of the house as an old lady. She has all the creaks and groans, joint pains and temperament of an old lady who has sat too long in one spot. And so, I was forced into a hiatus.
I spent the two days catching up with reading that I've been putting off for rather too long. A dear friend had had her grandfather's writing translated from Greek into English last year and I've been encouraging her to add to the writing, building a history of her grandparents. She has finally managed that and has completed a draft which she had sent me. So finally I was able to devote the time to sitting and reading this beautiful work. It's rough, it needs editing, but it is lyrical. She has a delightful style and a wonderful turn of phrase. She has yet to decide whether she'll publish the work or whether it's a piece of writing that she keeps for herself and her family. I think it has merit as a published work... but I'm no publisher. All I know is that I would read it and enjoy it. So in the process of reading her work, I stumbled upon phrases that were utterly delightful and I felt compelled to tell her immediately (I'm impulsive - I'm pretty sure you've worked that out already). Our conversation quickly turned to what was happening with my own writing and I had to shamefully say that it's on hold. Time has been snatching its wispy tendrils away from me again. I find myself running from task to task and feeling like I'm standing still. My beautiful friend nudged me gently, then less gently into making more of a concerted effort to focus on my own writing, focus on the thing that makes me truly happy... and frustrated.
I spent most of yesterday thinking about that conversation and how I should and could be writing more. Then this morning I woke to find an email from one of the most beautiful, loving people in my world, shoving me unashamedly in the right direction. She is a writer, a blogger, a gorgeous and supportive friend, and has a competition running on her blog. Now when the universe, or God, or the Great Oneness, or serendipity, or whatever-you-like-to-call-it speaks quite this loudly, I figure it's time to listen. So this blog post is my kick start to my writing.
I have a plan. A simple plan. I'm going to make the effort to write every day. It may not be beautiful prose (and I will find it hard to let anyone see that), it may not be lyrical (and I can live with that), but it will be daily and I hope that it will force me into the habit of writing consistently, of honing what I write, of finding my voice and releasing it on nervous, nascent, fluttering wings into the world.
