I have been writing professionally for fifteen years. So you'd think I would have worked it out by now. But in the last few weeks, more than ever before, I have come to the simple realisation that writing makes me happy. And that when I'm not writing, I can get a little cranky with life.The past twelve months have been tricky. And life, as is often the case, has been getting in the way of my writing. This, coupled with several failed attempts at starting new novels, a cranky parrot on my shoulder, in full voice, telling me how rubbish my writing was, and inspiration and motivation as capricious as Sydney weather, meant that I was starting to question whether I even had another story in me. Perhaps Portraits of Celina was going to be my last novel.
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| http://mansquito.com/pages/giant-squid.html |
Then, when my guard was down (and my spirits too), by chance I saw a video of a giant squid. This resulted in a light bulb moment, which led to others, and soon I was connecting several (quite random) ideas and, before I knew it, I was at the computer, with a new way in to one of my false start novels.
And I am so HAPPY. I feel like I am BACK. My characters are chatty and demanding and constantly charming the socks off me. And I am glad to be charmed again. I am glad to be writing.
Because writing makes me happy.
