For some time now, I’ve been struggling to get back into the groove with my writing. When my mother died, I inherited some money which gives me a small income. I am quite frugal and don’t need much money to get by.
As a result, my writing suffered because there was no longer such a pressing need to sell stories. In short, my motivation had dwindled to almost nothing.
During August, many things happened to distract me, and I only managed to finish two new stories. Instead, I became involved with all kinds of other distractions. What these were is irrelevant because it’s what I’ve now discovered that’s important.
I miss writing.
Before, I used to think I only wrote for money - after all, ‘short story writer’ is my job. Until now, I never allowed myself simply to write for the hell of it, for the joy of stringing words together. That’s about to change.
After my romantic writing retreat at the end of this month, I plan to start another, new chapter, in my life. One where writing takes central stage but where its role has changed.
Even typing that makes me feel excited, so watch out world, here I come.