Letting it flow

My writing has been suppressed, ignored, sidelined, deprioritised, pushed aside... not surprising perhaps due to significant life changes since I finished my novel in 2020 and shipped out from my life in England just days later. 

Since then I have been working on its prequel, a total rewrite of an earlier manuscript, chipping away just a few paragraphs at a time, with horrendous gaps in the necessary routine that results in page-fill.

This creates a sense of profound frustration (also suppressed, ignored, blah blah). Today I did nothing other than write; it's been a long time since I gave myself permission. I wrote my way through, with a few forehead furrowing pauses, all the way to the conclusion of a challenging scene, mining my notebook and finding things I had already written and forgotten that I had written, and research I had already done, and forgotten I had done. 

So this reminds me, this is what I do best, this is important. My confidence ebbs and flows as it always has, around the edges of self doubt, but when my fingers tickle the keys, and I allow myself to slip through that mental curtain, the words tumble out. Pure magic.

I just need to keep it up. Every day. Not all day every day of course (I wish!).

Today's blip (as I haven't been out) is some beautiful flowers from Mr G delivered out of the blue. I opened the door with a sigh, thinking it was yet another Gymshark or Asos package for my newly-salaried daughter!