It’s been a good ten days since I took the pressure off. The constant narrative of “I should be writing, I should be writing”, once gone, is such a relief.
I found myself in a better mood, more relaxed, able to laugh more. I even enjoyed a movie or two. And then…
The voice started again. How would I describe this room, that person? Tighten it up and make it concise?
I read a book. Listened to an audiobook, tried to tease apart the details in Sherlock Holmes (which I listen to every night as a lullaby).
I read over my old writings. They’re the same as now – not that good, but with some insights and humorous parts, but too self absorbed for an audience. I really entertain myself, but others? Not really. There’s a lot of skill that goes in to that, and I haven’t learned it.
For now, I love words, books, the escapism and the relatable humor. But I also love dogs, rainstorms, going for a run and coffee. Doesn’t mean I’m going to make a career out of it.
I really do have to find my Next.