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A procrasti-ramble and a rant - on writing, fear, muddy wellies and when the only direction is up

Early morning sun




and a walk with Four-legged-friend and Bertie Baggins




Frosty underfoot




giving way to blue sky and long shadows




and sunny boys




Taking 'the path less travelled by' takes on a whole new meaning here - left, right or straight to heaven?




But perhaps, this procrasti-rambler needs to forget heaven and see it as up. Stepping upwards and onwards. Taking the harder choice, the brave one, the one where challenges are met and tackled and overcome. Maybe, I should see it as a metaphor for ceasing to procrastinate and doing the things that are frightening and hard to face.
When it comes to writing, criticism and rejections are hard to receive; praise is seldom fully believed and there is, ever present, the niggling doubt that the only person you write for is yourself. Being a writer can be immensely lonely. Sharing your writing risks increasing the loneliness, because, once it's out there, you avoid situations where others could comment. You become fearful of judgments passed. And you hide beneath your own invisibility cloak. You avoid applying for courses; avoid submitting ... again; avoid re-editing; avoid entering competitions. Why is this? The answer is fear.
If you, like me, write - you must have felt that fear.
Sharing your writing sometimes feels like wrapping one of your children in brown paper and handing it over to strangers who will judge you on your parenting skills. If you don't write and have never experienced this believe me, I don't jest - it is that bad. And no, this is not a round about way of seeking compliments (I wouldn't believe them after this, anyway), it is simply the truth.
So why do writers do it? Inside all the writers I know, there is a need to string words together. It is something visceral; unexplainable. I think most writers would find it impossible to write without loving the craft - they have a fascination and deep passion for words and an almost religious belief that the pen is mightier than the sword and that words can and do and always have made a difference. That is why writers do it. And if a writer is also a storyteller, then all he or she is doing is filling a page with his or her dreams.

So, back to the paths, is the only direction up? It depends how you define up, but if up is striving to do whatever it is that we do better, then I think it ought to be. For all of us, wherever we are, whatever we do, at this time more than at any other time before: we need to believe in ourselves, both as individuals and together, for it is by rising up together and using our words that we can make a difference and make sure that history will judge us as having been right.

Ah! That wasn't how this started out ... that wasn't my original intention at all. I was walking with my boys, in the sun




shadow-hopping




and cursing the mud on my wellies.




But it's good sometimes to have a bit of a rant.

And at the same time a bit of a pep-talk-to-self.

And allow oneself to smile - at the world as it was this morning and also at this (cleaning-up) which hints at it being cheaper for energy companies to invest in clean renewables to fuel the planet rather than coal and gas and fracking. This is potentially very good news but will upset, bigly, a certain orange 'being' (I nearly called him a gentleman but that he is not). You could even ... perhaps ... say that things are looking ... well ... up!




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