A writing or writer's holiday

They say never go back. Nothing is ever as good as we remember. Sometimes they're right. I went to Scotland last year, to a hotel we went to years and years ago and had always wanted to return to and it wasn't the same. Mostly, because there were fewer red squirrels because they had cut down a lot of the trees. I also went back to the Lake of Menteith and Inchmahome Priory a few years ago and it was nowhere near as magical as the first time. But that place had grown to near mythic-like status in my mind, so much so, I constantly wear a ring on my left hand I bought there to remind me of the place and it helps me when I'm anxious; it centres me, grounds me and brings me serenity, taking me back to the first time I went there and luckily the second time hasn't marred the memory of bright sunshine after a rainy morning; the clouds literally parted as we got there; having the island almost to ourselves and the instant peace I felt as soon as I stepped off the boat and onto the island. I never take the ring off, even when I'm having a panic attack and all my jewellery and some clothes have to come off as it all feels constricting, that ring always stays on.

The Lake of Menteith and Inchmahome, so serene

However I'm returning to an area of the world I haven't been to for almost 20 years: Carmarthernshire. I went to Aberystwyth, Machynlleth and Ceredigion as recently as five years ago; Aberystwyth is where I did my library degree; but not further south. I love those three place names, spelling them, without help I might add, and mentally sounding them out. We had a favourite resort we stayed in many times near Laugharne, the home of the poet Dylan Thomas. We're not staying there as that would be a nostalgic step too far, but we will go back to Laugharne. I hope it lives up to the treasured memories. The last time we were there, I didn't have a digital camera, a mobile phone or any technology really other than a Tamagotchi! I'm hoping it will help clear my mind, shake off this fug and blow away this mental fog.

Laugharne beach

Basically I'm hoping this Easter holiday is going to force out this writer's block. Yes, I'm finally admitting I have writer's block. For me, that phrase makes me think about a lack of ideas, fear of the blank page and procrastination. However writer's block is at heart about a loss of confidence, fear of not being good enough and, okay, procrastination. Anyway, I've written about writer's block before and far more eloquently.

Mental veil

It feels like there's a veil between me and the world right now, where I'm existing, not living. I'm not experiencing anything other than on a shallow level, not making enough ties, bonds or relationships. Nothing is reaching me, tugging at my heart, funny bone or tear ducts. Apart from watching Harry Hill and Martin Kemp on Bake Off which did all three. Is it worrying that people I will never meet incite reactions far beyond those from the people I love and care about? It's difficult to explain, but I've felt this way many times during my life, sometimes so much I convince myself I'm an automaton, sometimes its only momentary. But this mental weather has set in. So, onward to Wales and forging deeper connections.

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!