Well, I’ve been on holiday now for three weeks. The end of term is always very manic and the six weeks of summer holidays is always gratefully received. Thanks to the Olympics taking place on my doorstep, I removed myself to the countryside for the duration and have enjoyed every minute.
It was today, while sitting in a conservatory, reading a book, during a loud and atmospheric downpour, that I had the strongest urge to write than I’ve had in some time. Sadly, though, my laptop was indisposed so I was left contemplating why I felt the desire to do some writing at that precise moment, especially as I’ve been plagued once more by doubts about every becoming published.
Was it the sight and the sound of the rain? This has some merit; I have always been more prolific at my writing when listening to stirring music (the soundtracks to any The Lord of the Rings film has always done it for me) as it makes my emotions race and the words seem to make their own way onto the page. Admittedly, though, this only worked for my fantasy writing and I never tried listening to such music when working on other projects. I can’t even claim that I used music related to Route 66 to help writing my travel book, but I believe that’s because it all has lyrics and I find these most off-putting.
Was it the peaceful surroundings? The house I am currently in is situated in the Cotswolds (for those non-Brits who read, this is a designated Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty over towards Wales). The quiet is something I cannot take for granted, for you would never get the likes in London, even living on the relatively quiet street on which I do. The view from the conservatory is just wonderful, too: a plant-filled garden; a corn field beyond the back gate; the Malvern Hills in the distance (albeit invisible in the cloud at this precise moment). There is much to be said for peaceful and beautiful surroundings when you’re trying to get your head around a particularly tricky plot line.
There is also the fact that the conservatory is a separate room, clear of things except for a couple of chairs, a table and a stool for the cat. When I compare this to the bedroom at home, where most of my writing takes place, I can see why perhaps my London surroundings do not foster a successful working environment.
So what am I to do?
Were I an established author I would gladly take myself off to the countryside for several months, renting a quiet place in a small village where I could think about my writing with little inconveniences. However, because I am, at the moment anyway, living to write rather than writing to live, my full-time job is a necessity. So I have just three weeks left of my holidays. I am determined to put aside the hours between 11am and 3pm (the hours I find I am at my most creative) each day for the next nine or ten days and have some time to work on my writing. After that, real life will take over again as I have to prepare my classroom and my lessons for the coming year (teachers never really get the full amount of holidays people think we do).
It’s not ideal and I wish I could seclude myself away for the next six months to really get to know the tale I want to tell. But, as I’m sure you know, most authors have similar circumstances to my own and few have the luxury of time until they are established. JK Rowling herself was a teacher while working on the first Harry Potter book, not to mention being a single parent to a young child, and it didn’t do her any harm!
Clearly I will have to put away my desire for a quiet, interruption-free setting if I am to become published. Perhaps I have been using this inwardly as an excuse to not work as hard, but this is only doing me harm as I become despondent about not being published.
So, once more, onwards and upwards!
Dreaming of Writing... 