It struck me today that I haven’t written a word of fiction all week. I know for many writers that’s not so unusual, but for me it’s quite rare – I write everyday even if it’s just a sentence or two. It feels weird when I don’t write at all. And very weird when I don’t notice… like someone at a party you’ve been meaning to talk to and suddenly you realise they’ve left without you noticing.
This used to freak me out. Particularly if it lasted a few weeks. But I’ve since accepted it’s how my brain recharges itself. Usually in its place I’ll find I’ve been doing other kinds of creating.
And, because my head is a noisy, bustling sort of space, I’ve always got some story thinking on the go… Right now it’s what I call a ‘tv episode’. An insubstantial bit of drama that won’t ever develop into anything longer. Kinda like my brain’s given the inner bard permission to write badly for a while. I guess you could call it my own private stash of penny dreadfuls!