Remembrance Sunday has gone and now we are deep into Autumn. The trees in London’s forests and parks have turned red and the air is crisp as I trot across the Common to the gym. I am deep in thought as I struggle across frost-encrusted grass and prickly gorse, for I am struggling with my novel at present. Everything in me wants to stay at home and sit by the laptop, battling. Yet, this is the worst thing I could do. Sometimes you have to walk away from your writing to walk deep into the heart of what you’re trying to say. As I come out from behind a tree I startle a deer – a magnificent stag. Because I am thinking about my hero Thomas and his battle to find himself, I’m not really looking where I’m going. I just blundered into his territory, a great, flat-footed human, not looking, not thinking. I must have come between the stag and his ladies, for he stands his ground and barks at me. This is dangerous stuff, potentially, but I don’t even notice because I am deep in the untamed, the wild mind. We look at each other. I see something in him, something that can never be broken. He bounds away. I run the last ten minutes to the gym.
Jennifer Pittam writes on the creative spirit and the ancient, magical forest that is her inspiration. Follow her column on http://weaversofdreams.blogspot.com/
Posts
2 comments:
Jennifer, I was in your London two years ago. I'm envious of your location both in the wild and in the city -- I felt I'd been in London in a prior life or something, it was so stirring to me to be there. Keep running!
Suzanne, An interesting experience, that! I've had it too, both in my own city and in other parts of the world that I've visited. Whatever the explanation, it's great for the creative process, I think. I hope you are finding creative expression wherever you write from. Jennifer
Post a Comment