We’ll take the last point first, because everything else is effectively set dressing. I read somewhere that poets need at least a decade to get settled. Having come to this table very late in life, there’s not ten years to hope that everything clicks. This has to happen NOW and so, yesterday, the decision to switch my focus from collection with a niche potential audience to collection with far larger scope has, amazingly, already bloomed.
I’ll write about this in more detail over on the Writing Blog, not just that’s because where it belongs. Amazingly this morning, the details are academic. I’m not touching this again now until after I’ve been away, because brain knows that the time for this is not right now. Instead, tomorrow we’ll lay down first draft of the Short Story [TM] and similarly leave it to rise in my absence.
Have I told you how much I’m looking forward to going away?
The Forest is ALWAYS a means by which creativity arises: it has a lot to do with painting bowls, as it happens. I’ve not decided what happens with Bowl Three yet but know that purple is my colour scheme this time. There’s a temptation to make this one more metaphorical than basically practical, but we will see. It’s the highlight of any trip: in the summer I don’t actually remember painting that bowl at all.
Then there will be photography, and this time quite possibly running, because it has to happen at some point and actually, a holiday village with a strict no car rule is probably as safe as I could wish for to begin. Except, this weekend we have a New Storm beginning with the Letter D to worry about. Maybe I’ll end up on a treadmill, who knows. However, I heard an advert on the radio this morning and… is it too soon?
Leave that one with me. For now, there’s plenty to do to make sure I’m ready to enjoy myself starting Friday…