I haven’t been ill in nearly a year. I also haven’t written with any sort of consistency in nearly that time. So, here I am, stuck on the sofa with my laptop and at last, I feel like writing.
Sometimes it takes a tummy bug and losing half a stone in five days to make you focus. Over the past year, I’ve been fighting to gain some stability in my life, where there has rarely been any. Family, work, money, home life. These are the things that trouble most people and I’ve had a fair share to deal with. At long last, much of these elements are aligned and all is well. This makes me nervous. It’s as though there’s a tsunami lurking at the far end of the ocean, building up and waiting for me to put up my beach umbrella before it strikes.
I spend this morning wondering why I haven’t written and I’ve decided that it’s not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because I had a little too much. Fear can be a terrible contributor to silence. It only takes one moment of bravery to break through, so armed with my tea and paracetamol, I’m ready to go back to writing.
For now, I’ll start slowly with a writing prompt. Take one of the following subject and write a diary entry about how you feel about it:
Good luck. See you soon.