I have constant stories twirling around in my head. I play with words. Create sentences. I’ll hear something interesting and make a note to myself to remember it for later, when I have time to sit down and write.
But time is my constant enemy. The demands of life mean that I don’t get time to sit down and write. I know this is not an excuse though. There are many times during the week, when I’m sitting sloth-like in front of the TV. I know that I could be writing. Only problem is that I am brain dead and can’t manage to strings three words together.
In fact, it’s not the time to write that eludes me. I know this because I managed to write a novel last year by getting up half an hour earlier each day. My problem is that I have no space to write. By this I don’t mean physical space. I mean space in my head. It’s crowded up there. All those great bits and pieces that I want to write down are stored up there and possibly irretrievable.
Right now, I am home alone. I cannot pinpoint the last time that I was home alone. I have been doing a happy dance. I have space to think. I have been shuffling around the house for almost two hours, not speaking but thinking. And no one is here to answer me back or make any demands of me. The quiet is almost too loud.
It’s good to be reminded that space and solitude are very important to creativity in this busy world that we live in. That’s why taking a walk, meditation or doing something mindless with your hands can help to clear the mind. I vow to try to make some space for myself and my writing every day. Excuse me while I go do some of that now.