...c'est la vie

Ahhh, writers' block. Not only is it frustrating, inconvenient (and several more expletive adjectives), it's also got the worst imaginable timing. 

When the first lockdown began in March last year, I felt a sense of anticipation - not at the state of the world of course, but at the limitless time I'd been given to write without the distraction of work! It was a blip of light and positivity in an otherwise trying time. 

But writer's block is a fickle thing, and so, when the rest of the world was restricted from visiting me, writer's block saw a vacancy and invited itself in to take up permanent and uninvited residence.

Which is my long winded way of telling you that I squandered an entire year of writing time.

Lockdown, it turns out, is as uninspiring as it sounds, and I couldn't force a single drop of creativity from my brain.

I took long walks, I learned to play the ukulele, I over-indulged in comfort food that will take me a year to eradicate, and I wrote no more than a single chapter, knowing instinctively that it wasn't any good...and then the spring came along...

Spring is typically not my favourite season, but with the promise of easing restrictions, and the soul lifting evidence of new beginnings budding and frolicking along my walks, I began to feel inspired again.
Last week, I sat down at a newly organised desk for the first time in months and felt a flood gate open in my mind. Words and idea's poured out of me for nearly 24 hours, faster that I could write or type to keep up with them. I honestly feel like I could sit down and write a book without pausing to outline it first. I'm hyped and I'm inspired and the curse of the writer's block is lifted...however...

I did say that writer's block had the worst timing imaginable. And that includes when it chooses to leave...two weeks before I have to go back to work. C'est la vie. Such is life.