March was a hard month, wall-to-wall with demands that were challenging enough to test the most stalwart of hearts.
How we longed for the end of March. Everything stopped: socializing, chores, reading for enjoyment, writing of any description, attending writing groups; it all stopped.
Then April came and it felt like we had turned a corner. There was a moment, a fleeting moment that felt like the ghost of a butterfly’s beating wing, where a thought made it through:
You could write, it whispered. And faded.
The big piece I’m supposed to be working on could do with having the middle bit of the construction finished. Smaller short stories could be finished, developed or polished. Something new needs to be written for a writing group. I haven’t done it yet. Frankly, getting used to writing again is a bit of a challenge in itself.
I’m out of the habit. It is disconcerting, more so is the admission that there is almost a nervousness about starting again.
A new member of the Chapter suggested writing three things every day. Even if it was as simple as ‘David Cameron is the Prime Minister’. It reinforces the discipline of writing each day.
Three things each day.
On any subject.
It’s a good way to get back into the swing.