I’m back! Last week’s blog hiatus was due to many things, all related to moving house with 3 young kids in tow. Of course their playroom was one of the first rooms I organised and my study was one of the last. A lack of internet access for a few days was a minor impediment; a more major impediment was that the shelves for all my books are not yet ready and so I have nowhere to put any of the stuff from the packing boxes.
But, I keep reminding myself, it will all be ready in just a couple of weeks and then I will celebrate by curling up in my armchair in my studio with a glass of champagne in hand and reading Mrs Dalloway, a book that’s been on top of my to-read pile for too long. Oh, and I’ll do some writing too of course!
Jokes aside, I actually do have a pile of notes for my next book – book number three – that are doing their best to get my attention. And the universe is also doing whatever it can to push me in the direction of getting the notes out and turning them into something resembling a first draft.
Do you ever have moments where somebody says something that opens up an entire line of thought for something you are writing? It has happened to me often and it happened to me last week when I was teaching a Creative Non-Fiction writing class. We were lucky enough to have wonderful West Australian poet and nature writer Annamaria Weldon in for a chat and, as part of her discussion, she said three words that have been repeating themselves over in my mind.
Time is spherical, is what she said. Simple really. But that notion fits so perfectly into the loose collection of ideas I have for my third book that I wanted to dismiss my students, take out my keyboard and begin to write. Of course I couldn’t, and I have since been waylaid by finding which box contains plates and glasses and spoons and textas and colouring-in books and all the other essentials we need to make our home work. No one else really cares that time is spherical and that I want to write about it.
I tried the concept out on my daughter and she just looked at me and said, ‘No it isn’t. It’s time for dinner.’ Which I’d forgotten to make of course. So, in the true spirit of spherical time, I took the kids right back to breakfast time and we ate Cornflakes for dinner. I’ve never done it before and I’ll probably never do it again but I knew where the Cornflakes and the milk were, which was more than I could say for anything containing protein or vegetable matter.
As for where my pile of notes is for my third book, I have no idea. It’s in one of the boxes stacked up next to my desk. But I know that when I finally unpack that box, I’ll be so sick of not being able to write that I won’t put off beginning the first draft, which is what I usually do. I will just sit down and write. In my new studio. With the wallpaper behind my desk. And did I mention the wall of bookshelves? Yes, I know I did. I’ll stop now …