I am writing!

Honest! But it's going slowly. I don't know why that is. If I have to write for work, for academic purposes or for extracurricular activities, I'm fine. But for creative writing, I procrastinate. Again, I don't know whether it's a self-esteem thing; I have a tendency to just avoid things if they're scary or push people away if it becomes difficult and I'm not forced to do things or if they're not persistent. It's a defence mechanism. I'm finally doing something that I've always been told I'm good at and have been good at in the past. It is scary because, what if I find out I'm not as good as I think? Anyway, I'm all determined to get down to writing and then suddenly I get the urge to do something, anything else but write, even clean... It's not even fear of the blank page as I've got stuff to work from.

However I'm taking part in something that may change all that. I recently attended a creative writing workshop for a project at work, but it's not for work as such. I can't say too much as it's all under wraps and nothing's certain yet, but I was a bit of a teacher's pet, which I usually don't like as I tend to be quite rebellious. But it gave me confidence when they said my work was brilliant and I really understood what they were getting at. It reminds me of a similar workshop I took part in at the Fitzwilliam Museum when they had the excellent Treasured Possessions exhibition; we wrote a poem, story or something creative based on one of the exhibits. I got carried away as I always do and my poem is still up on the Fitzwilliam website: http://www.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/gallery/treasuredpossessions/discover/writingworkshop.html

I never make things easy for myself as I've chosen to start writing during the first week of our early-morning before work sessions for students, the week of my nephew's fifth birthday and the week I have the writing workshop. Sometimes that helps though, busyness breeds busyness. I'm also a contrary kind of person and the more something becomes difficult, the more I want to do it. I've always thought I'm a walking contradiction.

My writing methods are very traditional. I find I can't write creatively on a computer. So, at least initially, I use a pen and paper and type it up afterwards; computers are brilliant editing tools. One of my colleagues recently told me about a great innovation in pens: the Pilot Frixion pen which you can rub out. It won't rub it out entirely, but it means you can write over what was there. Plus it comes in a range of colours, including my preferred colour purple. It's not just because purple is my favourite colour; black is too harsh, blue is not authoritative enough and purple is the colour of creativity, imagination and royalty.

Anyway, here's a sample of what I've already done, 'tis a silly poem I wrote years ago and have extended recently:

In Love

I am in love with my bed

I know this is a weird thing to have said

But I am in love with it

And not just a little bit

I don’t want to leave it for school in the morning

Reading on my warm pillow while I’m still yawning

And I can’t wait to go to bed at night

Reading late, though it isn’t right

I could play in it all day

Creating forts, keeping enemies at bay

Hiding under the covers

Escaping from tiresome angry mothers

When I’m sitting in lessons

Especially those early morning sessions

Double maths, ick!

I wish I were in it

I cannot quit loving it

It’s so warm and cosy

I’m safe and really dozy

In it come lovely dreams

Of animals, books, forests and streams

I wish I was there now

But I’m not allowed

Ah well, it’ll be there tonight

And when the sun makes it light

I am in love with my bed

I know, this is a weird thing to have said

But I am in love with it

And not just a little bit

It’s the first thing I think of in the morning

When the sun is yawning

And the last thing I think of at night

Although it isn’t right

I think about it all day

Wishing I hadn’t gone away

I have an inexplicable attraction to my bed

And I think that’s enough said

Although when I’m sitting in lessons

Especially those early morning sessions

I wish I were with it

I cannot quit

Loving it

I love to be in it, warm and cosy

And safe, incredibly dozy

In it come lovely dreams

Of people, animals, books and what God deems

I wish I were there now

That is a solemn vow

Ah well, it’ll be there tonight

And when the sun makes it light

I am in love with my bed

I know, this is a weird thing to have said

But I am in love with it

And not just a little bit

It’s the first thing I think of when I awake

Because every thing else in this world seems fake

And the last thing I think of at night

When I cry over my daily fight

I think about it all day

Wishing I hadn’t gone away

It’s the only place I can be me

And shut out all I don’t want to see

When I am sitting, alone in the crowd

Waiting to make the people I love proud

I wish I were just at home in bed

And I think that’s enough said

And yet, it’s no longer warm, safe and cosy

It’s scary, being impossibly dozy

After a long dark night of disturbing nightmares

Sleeping with the light on; I have many cares

Still, I wish I were there now

To sleep, though I don’t know how

Ah well, it’ll be there tonight

And when the sun makes it light

I am in love with my bed

I know this is a weird thing to have said

But I am in love with it

And not just a little bit

In the morning, when I’m awake

I love it for someone else’s sake

It’s where you are nearest

Lying next to me, my own dearest

At night, we can talk the dark away

Keeping bad thoughts and demons at bay

Then there is no place for words, just

Touch and taste and love and lust

When I’m sitting at my desk all day

I wish I hadn’t gone away

Thinking of it, brings a blush to my face

My heart thumping as if it’s in a race

I cannot quit, loving it

I love to be in it, safe and cosy in your arms

Skin to skin, incredibly dozy, warmed by your charms

With you I have lovely dreams

Of the future, whatever God deems

I wish I was there now

So I can be with you, even if it’s to row

Ah well, you’ll be there tonight

And when the sun brings morning delight

I am in love with my bed

I know that is a weird thing to have said

But I am in love with it

And not just a little bit

It’s the first thing I think of in the morning

Waiting for the sun to begin yawning

And the last thing of at night

Although it isn’t right

I struggle to leave at the start of the day

The second I do, I wish I hadn’t gone away

I have an inexplicable attraction to my bed

And I think that’s enough said

When I’m sitting at my desk at work

I find myself thinking of it with a jerk

I wish I were with it

I cannot quit, loving it

It’s where I go to escape, in a book

In dreams; it’s my safe, cosy and warm nook

I leave loneliness behind, even when I cannot sleep

Forgetting my cares, even when all I want to do is weep

I wish I were there now

That is a solemn vow

Ah well, it’ll be there tonight

And when I see the sun make it light

I am in love with my bed

I know this is a weird thing to have said

But I am in love with it

And not even a little bit

It’s the first thing I think of in the morning

Just as the sun is dawning

And the last thing I think of at night

Going to sleep, at nine, alright?

I think about it all day

Even when I’ve not gone away

Sitting reading, remembering in my bed

And I think that’s enough said

When I’m sitting, surrounded by nostalgia, thinking

How this is where I played as a child, sinking

Under the covers as a teen, hiding from the world

As a young adult, and then with lovers, toes curled

Lastly, I love to be in bed, warm and cosy

And safe, incredibly dozy

While my grandchildren sit beside me

Playing, chattering or reading on my knee

I wish I was there now

That is a quiet vow

Ah well, it’ll be there tonight

And if I see the sun make it light

I’m in love with my bed

I know this is a weird thing to have said

But I’m proud of it

And not just a little bit

I am a writer!

So, I have a cunning plan. I have had an idea for a story in my head for more than half my lifetime now. It's been percolating over the years, starting with the premise of how the power of one girl's imagination both enhances and ruins her life. Then it brought in mental illness, which was only natural as it makes sense with the imagination aspect and it's what was going on in my life at the time. Finally, I brought in Greek mythology, specifically the nature of fate, which has lead me to come up with a series of books on other Greek mythological figures. Talk about getting ahead of myself! I have the chapters named and outlined, the characters all drawn out, the plotline and some chapters written. I even have a Spotify playlist! So all I have to do now is write it.

I don't know why it's taken me this long, apart from a combination of time, energy and self-esteem. No matter how many times I tell myself that I should never compare my work with others, that it's not that they are better, they just have a different point of view, my lack of confidence always gets in the way. Creativity isn't a competition and everyone's perspective is valid and one of my brothers drunkenly told me he once thought I shouldn't bother being a writer as how could I come up with something new, but now he thinks I have something to say, which I was moved by more than I should.

I've always known I'm a writer, from my love of books and stories; I will thank my parents forever for teaching me to read before I started school, so throughout my primary school years, my reading age was double my actual age, so much so one of my teachers compared me to Matilda, I even looked like her; when I got a commendation for a story I wrote when I was about 7; when I got a letter from the headmaster praising my A-Level work (even school and university couldn't ruin my love of creative writing); when I just had to write, to get words down; when I was getting inspiration from anywhere; when I was writing as therapy; when I was writing as easily as breathing.

Then the anxiety and panic attacks struck. I tried to write, to get my emotions and thoughts down, but I was barely eating and couldn't sleep properly, so I didn't have the energy and what energy I had was concentrated on not failing my A-Levels, trying to maintain friendships and just getting through the day. The myth of the tortured artist producing their best work is a fallacy. That is unless you don't succumb to it. Illness turns you inwards, so what work you do create is incredibly self-centred, which can be amazing and insightful, but it's not a writer's best work. You don't get inspiration from the world; your life is closed off, insular and your vision is through a tunnel of your own making. So I stopped writing. I did start again when I did my university undergrad degree, but it wasn't the same. However I am a writer at heart and I'm in the best place I've ever been with my anxiety. Inspiration has started to win through again. I can't think about all those wasted years, just now I want to, and am able to, achieve my dream of being a writer.

Right, on to my cunning plan. If I blog about how my writing is going every week, it will force me to do something. So expect a weekly blog from me, hopefully I will actually have written something by this time next week!