What is my impetus to write? I certainly know what the barriers are. That's easy. A glimmer of sunshine in a wet summer, a trip to the coast, the prospect of new birds on a SW gale, sitting in cafes, fiddling with technology - which still seems like magic to me.
I've had a writing lay-off for about two weeks, for all the reasons above in no particular order.
SUMMER!
So I'm back to my revisions of The Key to Finlac today and it has gone reasonably well. Up early. A fresh look. New ideas. An impetus. Clarity. For now.
So what was it that brought me back to the desk, apart from the remnants of discipline? I think it is because I believe that fifteen year olds are better off reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road, than they are The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. If you want to read about the human spirit in a dystopian setting, better off taking a journey on The Road, full of challenge and in the end enlightenment about what is of value in this world. And then there is Ray Bradbury. He wrote so much, and if there was ever a cross-over author it is him.
Writing is the thing; literature is what matters. It's worth spending the time. And the effort. Of course it helps to have role-models and a little inspiration.
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