For me, being a writer is cyclical, it mirrors lots of things in my life. I love regimes, lists and repetitiveness. It’s an ongoing joke in our household that I make regimes but can’t stick to them, Flip says if I stick to something for 2 weeks straight I can call it a regime! You’re on buster!!
Writing is more than a regime, it’s a passion, it’s something I have to do or I might actually spontaneously combust (has anyone looked into wether this is the actual cause of spontaneous combustion in people? No. Didn’t think so, come on science, keep up with me here!). It’s a feeling from deep within, it flickers like a small spark and grows into a flame before engulfing you in a full on inferno (points to anyone who sang burn baby burn, disco inferno just then).
Writing is a way of life, come on, you know I love a good cliche, but this is actually true. I constantly write in my head, even if not on paper, computer, or phone, it’s still being written in my imagination. Small snippets or scenes here and there, or even full on short stories sometimes. I have an ongoing story that I come back to when I daydream, it’s been going on for years and although the characters change the story is still continuing, it’s like an add on to real life, running simultaneously alongside my everyday life. I can’t stop it. It’s a compulsion. More than a daydream, it’s an epic book that would more than rival the size of war and peace!
But, remember I said I was cyclic? I go through phases of being an enthusiastic, outgoing, very proud, writer where I will buy hats and bright clothes and want to wear make up, disabilities permitting! Then I will start to doubt myself and begin to dull down the enthusiasm for my skills and write lots of prompts but less actual stories. I will wear less patterned clothes and give the hats a miss. I will stay indoors a bit more and not sit in the garden so much. Then the final stage is where I begin to think I’m just rubbish at everything, life in general but especially writing, my inner critic takes over completely and I will wear darker colours, blacks and navy blues, I will scrape my hair back and buy jogging bottoms and pyjamas because I’m not going out anywhere and I don’t want to see anyone and I’m never going to be an actual writer.
Let’s get one thing straight friends, I have several disabilities that prevent me from doing things but I cope, through writing, this process has nothing to do with them, it is the writer in me that goes through this. Why am I telling you and dragging the conversation down? Because we all feel it, we all have an inner critic that likes to beat us up from time to time but we also have the disco inferno within that will make us combust if we don’t write. So this, my friends, might actually be the most normal thing about me!
Spontaneous combustion. Something to think on.
See ya soon!