An admission or two

I'm struggling at the moment. Creatively I mean. The ideas, the stories, just aren't there. I can write analytically, but as soon as I try to write fiction I lose the plot (pun sort of almost intended). I used to have a new idea nearly every day, now I just seem to be rehashing old ones all the time. And even then, the outcome doesn't excite me. The writing, I think, is stale.

I think I know why this is. Last year was incredibly tough for me. Those of you who know me well will have some idea why. I spent so much of last year trying to rebuild my life, get comfortable in a new city, with new (and some old) friends. This took up a lot of time and energy. Necessarily, obviously. But my writing has really suffered.

I realised earlier this week that I've been walking through my days with blinkers on, when I used to look around me; listen, smell, feel around me. I'm missing things. I've become an unobservant city robot, intent on getting to and from in the most efficient way possible. How
boring.

So my new mission is to try to reconnect, to notice, to 'stop and smell the roses' as my boss said to me this afternoon, smiling at the cliché.

I'm taking a deep breath and diving back in. Wish me luck.