Food for thought, General ramblings, Shared Musings.

Searching for my Muse.

For many months, I’ve been attempting to write something worthwhile.

I haven’t expected to create a masterpiece, just a little something to be proud of. Words from the heart. It isn’t much to expect, is it?

Writing has always been a huge part of my life. No matter what the situation, whether to praise, chastise, or apologise, putting words on paper has always been my favoured method of communication. At school, English was my best subject, I could be assured of getting a good grade – not top of the class, you understand, but always on, or very near the podium.

I wasn’t a natural academic, facts and figures disappeared almost as soon as I’d been taught them. It was dogged persistence that kept me in the upper realms of the top stream. Oh how I wanted to be like my best friend, Lauren. It seemed that no matter how little effort she put in, her name was always at the top. ( I’m doing her a disservice, she was extremely bright and deserved the top billing, I was just jealous!) Only once in our entire school life, did I take the crown from her, but if I’m honest, she was unwell, so I guess that doesn’t count. She was a lovely girl, but suffered dreadfully with nerves. I still miss her.

I was fortunate to be blessed with the gift of creativity, with most forms of self expression came easily. I loved to draw, sing, dance, act, cook, work with clay, but best of all, by far, was my ability to write.

Unfortunately, due to family circumstances, I was unable to go on to further education, but never let go of the dream that one day, I would go to college and get the necessary qualifications, to enable me to pursue a career in the world of words.

However, it wasn’t to be.

I was destined to become a full-time housewife and mother to a large family. It seems ludicrous now that I was unable to do both, but many decades ago, a lot of women remained chained to the kitchen sink, needing to rely on their male for permission to step away. I loved being a mother, but secretly wished for the day when I could show another side of myself.

The year’s rolled by, as they tend to do, with each one seemingly passing more quickly than the last. In time, all dreams and ambitions deserted me, I felt the well of creativity had become drained.

A saving grace was my mountain of journals, where I would pour out my innermost feelings. I would feel a rush of excitement as words came tumbling onto the page, capturing my emotions, whatever they may be.

Another avenue, way back in the mists of time, was letter writing. I loved it. I would write multiple pages, usually with a fountain pen, barely coming up for air until I had finished. I would be nervous as I addressed the envelope and trembled as I dropped into the dark realms of the post box. I would be on tenterhooks until finally, I’d hear the pleasing plop, as a reply landed on the doormat.

I miss letters. Emails and texts are useful but don’t give the same pleasure.

Throughout the decades, my Muse would appear for brief periods, but it wasn’t until after getting divorced, that I allowed myself the luxury of time for writing. Initially, it was as therapy, then, before I realised what was happening, it became an integral part of my life.  For a while, I wrote a column in the local newspaper, focussing on mental health. Soon after, I formed a community creative writing group, began writing a blog,  published a couple of (badly edited) ebooks – ( we’ve all had to start somewhere), before I moved on to novels,

I’ve dabbled with poetry, but my true love is penning short stories – flash fiction, micro fiction, I love it all, in fact, the shorter, the better.

Then it all ended!

I’ve tried to rekindle the flame, but it’s stubbornly refusing to co-operate. It hasn’t been entirely snuffed out but is smouldering, rather than burning bright. It isn’t for want of trying, but no matter what I do, for some reason, my Muse refuses to return. I’ve called, begged, pleaded, wept and wailed, but nothing is being created, except frustration.

I’ve chosen to write this blog tonight, in the hope of kicking myself up the proverbial. I hope it does the trick, It isn’t only ’writer’s block’, it’s any form of creativity. Wherever my Muse is, I believe it’s teasing me, testing me. I’m not short of ideas, putting them onto paper, that’s my problem.

Of course, If I’m honest, I know there are a few reasons for it.

The first, possibly the biggest has been the dreaded Covid19.

So many times, I’ve wanted to write a blog, but haven’t wanted to jump on the bandwagon of the media and populace, debating how, where and why is it happening? Where will it all end? etc etc. There are only so many ways that the same subject can be rehashed. It’s been such an dreadful time for many and certainly testing, even for a fatalist like myself. I didn’t feel I wanted to add to the burden.

My physical health has also been a drain on my energy, adding unwanted stress. However, the reality is that I’ve become so deeply entrenched in my inability to create, that I’ve more or less stopped trying. I’m cringing with embarrassment, as I write those words.

I’d given up!

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But that isn’t the end of the story.

My Muse isn’t far away, it’s been patiently waiting for me to accept the blatantly obvious, I need to do the hard work, no one else can do it for me. So here it is, my defiant blog. It might not be world news, but for me, it’s a true breakthrough.

Blocks of any kind, are like brick walls, designed to prevent us from moving forward. However, very little is insurmountable. We can sit and bemoan our fate, or can chip away at those walls, little by little, until finally, we breakthrough.

Giving up isn’t a long-term option. This blog is for you, my friends, supporters and followers, you all deserve better – so better you shall have.

There is a likelihood of a new lay-out for this site, but please bear with me for a bit longer, my old brain isn’t as sharp as it was. Technology and myself aren’t the closest of friends, so it will probably be a matter of trial and error, but I promise you this –

I will succeed!

Rosie x

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Thank you for taking the time to read this.

If you’d like to support me in my journey to become re-aquainted with my Muse, please ’follow’ me, perhaps share it, I’d be very grateful. I love writing for myself, but it can be a lonely existence. Knowing there are people out there, reading it, makes it all worth while.

Feel free to comment, or message, you’ll find my details in the contact section.

Until next time,

Live the best life you can. Stay safe, keep well.

Rosie xxx

Food for thought, Inspirations, Shared Musings.

Devonshire Delight.

 

I’m currently having a few days away at the favourite sea-side haunt from my childhood, hoping to rest, recuperate & regain my writing inspirational drive. Too much of my time is given to others, somewhere along the way I lost myself. I knew that a few days in solitude was what was called for, so here I find myself in Exmouth, spending money I can I’ll afford, but the cost of not doing it would have been far higher.

Earlier I met a lovely couple while I was scribbling a few lines, after falling under the spell of the marina. The man told me that he was an artist, yet he too had found himself too busy to take time out for his passion. This drove me to complete the marina piece. It is still in it’s raw state, but I’d like to share it with you.

To the couple who inspired me, apologies, I’ve forgotten your names already   ( possibly Jeff?) To them & all who find themselves being stretched so thin that they are unable to use their creativity when they want. Please, please don’t allow your creative juices to dry up under pressure of pleasing others. Take a little time out – NOW. Don’t allow feeble excuses to flow from your mouth. We all need to be true to ourselves & for those with an artistic bent, that means actually creating something before the drive is allowed to wither away.

Devonshire Delight.

To & Fro they rock, unwanted,  unneeded,  tethered, abandoned.   In comparative calm they bob, side by side, packed tight like sardines in their tin, floating in their bed of brine.

The mass of water still, just a ripple snaking across the surface from the stiff breeze. The near tranquilty belying the pounding, crashing seas, a mere few metres away. Here however, protected by the harbour wall, they are safe – removed from the chaos that nature has deemed necessary to inflict on this quaint sea edged Devonshire town.

Rangers Delight, Cup ferret, Arvor, Quick Silver, White Lady, Merlin V111 ( I wonder was there 1-7?  If so, I can only surmise their fate.) Unlikely names yet some aren’t even granted that dignity, just given a large, garish number adorning their otherwise sleek hulls.

Overhead a few flags flutter furiously. Two seagulls squabble over a discarded crust, their cackles cutting through the evening air, disturbing the idyllic scene. Above, storm clouds gather, racing to blot out the vestiges of afternoon blue sky. In the distance, indistinct idle chatter from couples taking an evening constitutional, heads tipped forward, collars raised against the impending rain.

Soon it will be dark, the inky night casting it’s blanket over the peaceful scene. But when dawn breaks these forlorn boats, with their coats of many colours will be in demand once more.                                                                                                              Trips into unchartered territory for some. Fishing expeditions. Pleasure cruises.   The sardine tin will be emptied until days end, when once again the entire scenario will be replayed.

This picture book scene will remain etched in my memory. Should I feel trapped or drained, I will be able to draw on it for inspiration. I chose to capture it in words, others may prefer pens or paints, others will use more modern technology. The medium doesn’t matter. What does, is not to allow the memory to go to waste.  When we are shown something so evocative, we are blessed. I for one will not waste it.

Rosie x

I hope that you enjoyed this little muse. Hopefully it will be the beginning of more regular offerings.

If you want to read more, please ‘Like’, ‘Follow’ & ‘Share’. Like most creatives, I write for  the love of it, but knowing that it is being enjoyed by others is like Manna from the Gods, food for the soul.

Until next time, take care. Rosie x