I’m beginning to feel the itch to write, scratching at the back of my neck. Faint voices are chatting to each other in the corners of my mind. I can’t quite make out what they are saying, not yet, but I know that if I wait the words will come.
Sometimes we have to let go of the pressure we place on ourselves to be creative in order for that creativity to flow where it needs to. I’ve spend months now, polishing and revising. Editing – a thing that I love – has become stifling and tiresome. I mentioned the other day that I have given myself some time out, and part of that is allowing myself the freedom to write something else if I’m called to it.
I’m not, not yet, but I think a new idea is stirring and I’m tentatively excited about that possibility. I desperately want to get back to editing, but I think writing something new will enliven me, give me more gusto for the edits on my return. A friend has given me a theme to write to, and that normally kicks the brain into action.