I wrote ‘This Writer’s World’ as a guest post for The Writer’s Bureau in February, 2013.
This writer’s world is unlike any other where I’ve ever lived. I’ve moved many times over the years, twice between the UK and America, and each move meant leaving behind one world, settled within my circle of family and friends, only to enter a strange, new world as an unknown, rootless and friendless, to begin again.
During this constant shifting between two hemispheres, moments of great joy took place, such as the birth of each of my three children. This indescribable joy burst briefly against a backdrop of disappointments, hardship and loss as the years went by – loss of homes, loss of friends, loss of life.
So what of this writer’s world that I now inhabit? It is lonely and intense, yet it shuts out all else like a comfortable, warm blanket keeping out the chill. Distractions of any kind while I type madly away – housework; shopping; cats that need feeding; answering the phone; – are intruders, resented and therefore, ignored. Except for the cats: they are ignored for only so long.
The paradox of my lonely existence in this new writer’s world is that really, I am a sociable being. I enjoy meeting friends for coffee and ‘doing’ lunch now and then but now, if I don’t see a day in the diary free of commitments I panic, as it means I have to put my writing on hold until later.
As a student of the Writer’s Bureau winding my way through the Comprehensive Writing Course, it is one thing to put time aside to work on my assignments, but now I have started a blog and it is threatening to become all-consuming. Goodness, if I’m like this now, what will I be like if I ever do write ‘that book’? Even so, I relish it. Is it an obsession? Maybe.
In my brave, new world I have discovered that as I write about the things that have happened in the past, I am finding a new contentment in the present. Perhaps even a tentative confidence for the future? My loneliness and anxiety collides with my new-found sense of accomplishment and fulfilment, and propels me on as I write about ‘what I know’.
I realise that no experience is ever wasted, even if just to encourage one other person. I am not an alien in this writer’s world and I don’t have to carry a passport. I am a citizen with full birth rights and I belong.
I just wish I had moved here a long time ago.