I regret Sulking
I was buzzing with words, thoughts and ideas. I was on a whirlwind of creativity, story after story after story were spilling out. My mind was overflowing and I tried my best to keep up. The dynamism of my fellow writing friends and classmates had me productive to a level that I thought I’d never have a dry well again. But I did and not in the way I thought.
I started a new story. The character, Michal was Polish and living in Ireland with his wife. He and I were getting on well, the connection flowing until he stopped up without warning. Nothing came from him, no whiff or hint of what was next, he had disappeared.
I wondered why, I asked the questions, I re-read what I had but I was without inspiration. Yet I knew it wasn’t me, it was Michal.
So I went about my business. I painted bedside lockers, the main bathroom, cleared the garden, and baked, everything I usually keep putting off got sorted. In fact, I enjoyed my new found freedom so much from not being at the beck and call of words, I revelled in this me time.
