I struck a deal. I got time off twice in one day, took to my bed and read. In great gulps, the way I used to read, when I took multiple books out of the library on a Saturday, and had read half of them by the same evening.
This kind of reading is hard to find these days. Time is divided up into many chunks, and being able to read at length is something of an indulgence. Has been for a long time, in fact. Even in the full time working days, it was usually the holidays when I could manage to read novels.
So, I got one – and now it’s gone. Which is, of course, the way books work. You read it, it’s done, and you look for another. Or, sadly, you pause and work out if there is time for another before the holiday is over.
I used to write a bit like that. I would stay up late, and write into the small hours. It felt like the night was a ship, and by writing, I was sailing her, steering her along with my words. There is more space at night for words.
Now, it’s a bit more like dog walking. You take words out for a run a couple of times a day. It’s part of the pattern. But now and then, even dog walking, you might chance across a clear view of the stars. Or see a badger. Or something else that makes you pause.
Perhaps that will have to do for now, following the routine of writing, but hoping that something will turn up from time to time. Something that helps me feel I too can slip the leash for a while and just run…