I can see you'all already
in the water: waving; calling; saying: it's fine once you're IN!
I believe you and I am
envious of your splashes and happy noises; envious of those of you swimming
strongly and with beauty out to the far buoy. I can do that too and have swum
that swim many times but....
I am afraid.
I am tired.
I don't want to be like the
one who is bobbing, head just above the water or the one swimming against the
rip, getting nowhere except exhausted. They make me afraid of this word ocean.
Because, I know that it's
easier 'once you're in'; I know it's fun and I have the fitness and finesse to
swim almost as beautifully as those who are right now swimming lengths of the
bay.
But, I also know what it's
like to be caught in a rip of writing that saps my strength and will; to be so
weighted down by the demands of being a writer that I am thinking twice.
My latest novel, a
children's historical fiction set during the time of the Bastion PointOccupation, has had its bum smacked and sent to the publisher. It is now school
holidays. Two whole weeks of free time lies before me like that shining expanse
of calm.
I've come in from the
ocean, dried off, and now the sun warms me.
The day is not over and
there is still plenty of swimming time left:
I want to dive in; I don't
want to dive in. If I don't, then these pressing characters, these noisy scenes
will continue to build up in my brain - there will be no peace.
If I do, then I commit
myself to at least a year where I am consumed by story, by research, by the
physical demands of going from my day job to my night job, where I feel
overwhelmed as if I have homework every night and I know I will feel guilty
whenever I don't spend every spare moment in that world.
So I wet my toes in the
shallows: this blog post; a speech to a writing group; discovering books in
second hand stores which will inform me about this next project; torturing
extended writing/swimming metaphors
I love writing
swimming but sometimes watching movies/reading lying on the
beach holds more appeal.
You'll hear my squeals for
sure, when I start my new novel get back in and I'll be
calling back to you who stand on the edge: just do it! It's beautiful. Yes, a
bit cold but fine once you're in. You won't regret it.
Photo credit: Daily Mail, UK
