It's 10pm on a Wednesday night. I'm lying in bed with a baby in the cot next to me and a toddler snoring in the bed with me. Mr C. is still downstairs doing his thing.
I don't really know why I'm writing, especially since I'm doing it on my phone, which is not my favourite medium.
Having said that, lately I have felt the pull to write more and more. I used to love writing. I could spend hours on it and yet, in recent years, I have let my writing fall by the wayside, to the chagrin of my husband and my mother.
My excuse was that I felt uninspired or had no story ideas. I would say I had the skill to write but I not a talent for story telling so I was just kidding myself that I would ever get a book written, let alone published. In short, I gave up on myself.
But I just want to write now. Right now.
Just random stuff. I keep wandering how to work all this out in my blog and whether I should just start new one. I always feel like becomingiris is not the right place for experimental writing work, but I have to start somewhere.
I feel all lost and foggy in my little rut; even a little bit paralysed by my own over-thinking.
I remember getting a flash of an idea, back in the day, and sitting down to write. The weekend would disappear and the words would seem to write themselves. Once the first sentence was done, the rest would just flow. But that was a decade ago.
Wow. A decade. It's quite amazing how time can just slip away from you when you aren't paying attention. When you are going through stuff and you're counting moments, years can pass before you manage to look up and take a breath.
Maybe it's time I looked up, took a breath and stopped sleepwalking through my life. My kids will thank me for it, not to mention my husband.
I may start with some writing prompts. I like that idea.
Let's see what happens next.