Almost a writer

I’ve not written a lot recently. Not much for the last ten years now I think about it. I’d slipped into a chronic grump and it had an impact on the quality and quantity of my work.

But the move South, the passage of time and new initiatives have conspired to de-grump me somewhat. I need to write again. I have deadlines. And there needs to be a day one.

In fact, I’ve been writing – stolen moments writing – for some time. But I need there to be a moment when I re-orientate and call myself a writer again. And today is the arbitrary day that I have chosen.

I’m a great believer that each writing project finds its own way of working: a short story written on beermats in a bar, a haiku written on the top deck of a bus or a round the world travel guide written in crayon on stolen Izal sheets in a prison cell. There’s no routine that suits every piece.

I’m trying to create pieces with vision, so I head for the sea front – let’s work under big skies with distant horizons.

My first stop is the Two Maggots cafe. I load up with an intravenous espresso and a packet of high tar Gauloises to help me feel writerly. Charged, I begin to write. I want a hard edge to this piece, so I consider chipping the words into blocks of flint. I may be taking these metaphors too far. The ballpoint and the yellow pad will have to do.

I write. I move to a new bench. I write again. A new cafe, another page. This rhythm continues for maybe three hours. By the end of this I have several A4 pages of stuff that didn’t exist yesterday. I’ve rewritten a couple of monologues from memory – they might end up on Khoross, they might not. I’ve written some throwaway junk – that doesn’t matter. Today was the day.

Of course the best bit is still to come. The reward is typing it all up. I’m glad it didn’t start on a screen though. Writing in the rough while on the move and in the world is a fantastic feeling.


About lancewoodman

Heritage interpreter, playwright and teacher. Living on the South Coast of England.

Posted on October 20, 2011, in Khoross, playwriting. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Have you taken up smoking? I commend you – I’m giving up (again) at the moment.

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