It’s the busyness, really. Yes, retired people like me can be unbelievably busy, too. That’s what stops me writing. It’s the magnificent weeds in the garden, jollying along together, sharing the soil , fighting it out sometimes. It’s the chilly mornings with the plates and dishes left from last night, and the bathroom to clean, and the washing to get dry, and the meals to plan, and the shopping to do. It’s the day I usually go to… and it’s always fun or interesting. The family will be round on Saturday, or friends have invited me to dinner. Amazingly lovely things for which I am very grateful. And let us not forget the articles I suddenly find myself reading on the web. I could go on… and I think you could, too.
Here’s a tiny piece of advice I’m giving myself, and possibly you, this morning.
Write something, even if it’s only in your mind.
Go outside and dig up the weeds, and find words to describe something you can see. The last rose of summer perhaps. The cheeky robin waiting patiently for a worm. Relax. One beautiful adjective is something to make you smile. And don’t stress if nothing comes. When you get inside, you might like to find that old notebook and read the kinds of things that used to pop into your mind.
You will write again. Even if it never leaves the computer, it will make you feel you still have something to say.
You are welcome to leave encouraging comments. I need all the help I can get.