Writer’s Flood…

This is another in my Throwback Thursday series, where I migrate some  of my better posts from the old blog. Today I’m talking about writing… again…

In our house, today is the first day back at school after summer. The kids have left, and all of a sudden my time feels empty. I’ve been enjoying the boundless creativity, inquisitive minds and zany ideas that come with getting the children at their best. When they get home this evening I’ll get the tired, grouchy, ‘please can I just play PS4?’ children that appear in my house during term time, and we’ll be back in the drudge again.

The only plus point about the kids going back is that I’m able to get stuck into writing again. I love writing, it’s where I feel most at home, Coffee, notepad, pencil, computer – these are items that feel most comfortable to me, like putting on old, warm slippers.

I just have one problem: I don’t have a project.

I’ve blogged on here before about  writers block – about the frustration of not just knowing how to get what I want down on paper, but what to write about in the first place. And yet, I don’t know about you, but many times I complain about writers block, what I really mean is writers flood.

I have ideas in abundance, but they flit and fly, beautiful to see reflecting the light but difficult to catch and make something of. There are so many thoughts that I become paralysed by choice and end up with nothing.

It’s not that there’s nothing to do. I’ve got plenty of things I could be getting on with.

I’ve been thinking for a while about trying to write a second memoir. I’ve planned, structured, and got a somewhat accurate timeline to work from. I’ve even typed and edited some of the inevitable journal entries that mark every autobiography, but the excitement isn’t there, and I’m not actually in the mood where I want to think about it.

I’ve also sort of got a novel in my head. Well, not a novel so much as a title – the plot is still a bit shadowy. I have a saccharine heroine and a brooding villain, but beyond that nothing – and that definitely won’t a good novel make.

The mental health book I’ve talked about before has gone on the back burner for a while – my co-writer is busy with speaking and in searching for a publisher I’ve lost the will to email. It’s still a topic I’m passionate about, but the enthusiasm for formulating ideas into a book has dwindled.

So how do I choose? How do I decide what should get the best of my time whilst school gets the best of my children’s? What decision uses my time most wisely whilst also fuelling the part of me that has been smothered for the last ten days being mummy?

A plan to go with a new term: When Seth’s teacher starts with the register, I’ll make my own list of jobs that need attending to. When Amelia is handing in her homework, I’ll be doing my homework – making sure that jobs are done, emails replied to, dishwasher emptied.

And then, when the children are settling into their work, I shall sit down, look at my options, and start to write, waiting for the tingly feeling that says I’m onto something.

Or, if nothing else, yet another idea…


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