Dust motes float in the sunlight pouring through the leaded windows,
And the clink of cup on saucer and the gentle murmer of hushed conversation
Layer a soft soundtrack over my thoughts.
Words don’t always come easy
And when they do
Some are strange and some just don’t
Say what they mean
When they leave my fingers to land on the page,
Like a painting fully formed in the mind
That comes out blotchy and malformed on paper.
A familiar landscape rendered
So I set off exploring again
To relearn this unfamiliar, familiar land,
Eyes wide open and pencil in hand.
I’ll sit still and silent
As the dust motes drift
Whilst the world turns and that soft soundtrack plays,
I’ll wait whilst the words wash through me in a jumble
Watch them settle into half-formed thoughts
Until I can catch them with the clink of cup on saucer
And write with sweet foam lingering on my lips.
I’m spending a couple of blissful days in one of my favourite places with one of my favourite people. Mum and I are back at Gladstone’s Library, haunting the stacks, hunkering down to write and lounging with coffee, cake and books in the Gladstone Room. I love this beautiful old building, the sense of peace that permeates its walls and the feeling of sharing space with generations of readers and writers.
It has been so very long since I sat and wrote just for myself, just for the pleasure of writing. I have a couple of barely-started projects that I’ve been dipping into and rediscovering, but I’m mostly just letting the words take me where they will, with no purpose but to write them. This is my very favourite way to write.
I think my best writing happens this way.