CCommons image of an act similar to witnessed |
How apt that in last week’s POST I should be musing on being chained to my laptop instead of recharging my writer’s batteries by enjoying the delights of the summer months. This week I actually took my own advice. Wave the flags!
I went to a circus – my first – and what a revelation. The Rio Olympics are currently in full swing, being caught occasionally on television. As I mentioned on Facebook at the time, the circus people leave the Olympic gymnasts standing-hanging-contorting, with me torn between open-mouthed admiration for their physical prowess and gasped fear for their safety. The clowns made me laugh, the music was thumping, and I left the small big-top with a grin and a lightness of step knowing that with application anything can be achieved.
Since then I have read two chapters of my work-in-progress for criticism to my initial beta readers, Hornsea Writers, to check I’m on the correct route; coffee’d and laughed with friends; indulged in retail therapy (DIY, not diamonds); completed jobs on the Household To Do list; and each afternoon while soaking up some Vitamin D from a sunlounger I’ve watched dragonflies play, heard frogs croak, breathed in the scents of the garden flowers, AND written between 500-800 words on the work-in-progress.
Okay, it’s not the 1,000 words per day self-set target, but it’s more than I was achieving. I have come to accept, rather than merely acknowledge and ignore, that it is possible to focus too hard. All work and no play did make Jack a dull boy, and my own internal spring to wind down to a rusty creak.
If you find yourself to be in a similar position, take note.
I went to a circus – my first – and what a revelation. The Rio Olympics are currently in full swing, being caught occasionally on television. As I mentioned on Facebook at the time, the circus people leave the Olympic gymnasts standing-hanging-contorting, with me torn between open-mouthed admiration for their physical prowess and gasped fear for their safety. The clowns made me laugh, the music was thumping, and I left the small big-top with a grin and a lightness of step knowing that with application anything can be achieved.
Since then I have read two chapters of my work-in-progress for criticism to my initial beta readers, Hornsea Writers, to check I’m on the correct route; coffee’d and laughed with friends; indulged in retail therapy (DIY, not diamonds); completed jobs on the Household To Do list; and each afternoon while soaking up some Vitamin D from a sunlounger I’ve watched dragonflies play, heard frogs croak, breathed in the scents of the garden flowers, AND written between 500-800 words on the work-in-progress.
Okay, it’s not the 1,000 words per day self-set target, but it’s more than I was achieving. I have come to accept, rather than merely acknowledge and ignore, that it is possible to focus too hard. All work and no play did make Jack a dull boy, and my own internal spring to wind down to a rusty creak.
If you find yourself to be in a similar position, take note.
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