I know that it’s Saturday, but somewhere in the world it’s still yesterday.
The other day I write about how I’d lost my writing mojo, well, I think it’s back.
Exercise usually works when inspiration is the issue, but this time it hasn’t been a case of no inspiration- I have plenty of that, plenty of ideas. The issue has been one of organising those ideas.
How did I get it back? It’s tough to say, but here’s my top 5 helping hands.
I’ve been reading voraciously.
Anyone who follows me on Goodreads would know that.
Even though I write chick lit, and chicklit with humour, that isn’t what I’ve been reading- I don’t when I’m writing it…it keeps my voice, or rather the voice of my character, pure.
Instead I’ve been reading crime- Tana French, some early PD James.
I’ve been watching really well written TV re-runs- but watching it as a writer. My favourites? The West Wing, Rake, early Offspring. It helps me imagine scenes, it helps me see how writing can be brought to life.
Maintaining my blogs is a way of maintaining my writing habit- and when you’re a writer, the main thing you have to do is write.
The main reason behind my writers block is usually a result of me losing the faith. It’s something about the lack of visible outcome.
Blogging gives me an immediate response, an immediate outcome.
I’ve been really slack with these.
Morning pages, or a daily bout of free writing, gets the brain moving. It’s a little like warm up exercises. I wrote about them here.
More important than this, when my head is as full as it currently is, morning pages helps to clear some space, it helps me to organise my thoughts and emotions so that there’s room for what I should be writing.
Just lately, for a lot of reasons, this has been important and has taken a while- sort of like when you start cleaning out your wardrobe so that there’s room for new clothes.
Since we’ve been back from holidays, I’ve rarely left the house except to go to the library to work- or rather try and work.
On Thursday I took a day off and went into the city.
I took my journal and, under the sun, by the water, my words started to come back. It often works like that.
My husband said “I told you so.”