Where I've been and where I'm going

Where I’ve been

Listen to this song

I fell out of love with writing about two years ago. I began to despise my work, dislike the circus of trying to be heard, and feel I’d lost the sound of my own voice. I also lost my work as a copywriter including being ghosted by my most enduring client (why has this become a thing) which was really disheartening and odd. My dad's death meant I experienced another shift in my familial role, and take on responsibility for my mum. I began to collapse under the weight of myself.

I’ve spent the last couple of months making my garden, nurturing seeds, experiment with yet another way to grow tomatoes, growing aubergines and slight obscene courgettes and finally feeling as though I can achieve something. It has been the first thing I think of when I wake and a place of calm when the outside world is overwhelming. A privilege that is out of reach for so many. My planner lay empty for the first time in many years – I took time out without really realising it and now I'm ready to respond to the desire to write and share. Courage has returned.

Nurture brings beauty and nourishment

Where I'm going

I am embarrassed about this next bit. Until a few months ago, I had no idea that I could just send work to publishers, that they would have open calls for submissions. I thought I had to wait for a competition. I feel like an idiot, but there we are. This week I’ve been through my Mslexia Indie Press Guide, compiled a list and sent my pamphlet out to a dozen publishers. It may come to nought. It may not. I can only try and I have nothing whatsoever to lose.

I’ve also noticed ideas for poems beginning to re-emerge. I have so many ideas for new books I’m not sure where to go next – my goal for next week is to try and pin one down. We’ll see. I may spend my time with the roses instead.

Where I am

What I’ve realised is that I have a choice of how I use my time. As you know, my energy is limited and I found myself harnessed to the idea that I had to have my work published, to the extent that I began to hate it. Don’t misunderstand – it’s still something I want but not at the cost of myself. I’ve been trying to force myself into a way of being that saps and depletes, rather than nourishes.

My moment of clarity came from the evil nemesis that is Chat GPT. I spotted a thing saying that I could type in my dreams and the bot-fiend would create my perfect day. Ignoring the fact that I was adding even more words to the massive lexicon that may destroy us all I went ahead and fed it my dreams. The day it created was pretty much the days I can have now, if I choose. There were a few aspects that feel out of reach, but in terms of structure, it felt pretty accurate. Could this mean I might be happy? Or at least content? This realisation has buoyed me to send work out again, helped me realise that I can make life into what I’d like it to be, rather than what I think is expected of me and made me feel at peace with who I am. I suspect my medication may also have something to do with things, but I’m holding on to this calm, assured version of myself for as long as possible.

That’s it for now. I know I’ll probably get two people reading this (thank you both) and I’m cool with that. I’m flying in my own direction, at the altitude I choose and a song that feel like my own.