Glass full

Life feels tough this month. There’s a lot going on at work, I’m doing physio rehab, there are tradesmen in the house making a mess, the world seems to be in an awful place and getting worse, and I’m too tired in the evenings to read or write. I am grateful for all I have, but my body and brain is at full capacity.

I’ve been back two weeks from a five-day Arvon-run writing retreat. Eleven writers, two tutors, one massive house in rural Shropshire. It was creatively invigorating. I wrote a synopsis of my next novel, edited what I already had, and started some new chapters. The theme of the week was using other arts as part of writing practice, like music, dance, and drama. We did workshops in the morning and had afternoons free for writing, reading, walking, and tutorials.

By the last day I was wrung out and ready to come home. It was wonderful but intense. On the last evening, we all read aloud something we’d written during the week.

Returning home was a relief, but the unique atmosphere of being away with other writers in a literature-centric space is impossible to replicate at home when you have a day job and a family. It did show how hard it is, legitimately hard, to maintain focus on writing projects in ordinary life. It isn’t that I’m lazy or distracted, it‘s that I’m using most of my energy getting through the days. I’ve chosen an intense profession for my nine-to-five.

That’s helpful to recognise. It gives me something to work with. If I want to be more engaged with my literary ambitions I need to change something.