This is my third attempt in as many days to write something – anything, which is worth the effort of doing so and, more importantly, worth reading. But I can’t. I just can’t. Several compositions have been attempted. I’ve taken advice to just sit and write, something – anything, but it doesn’t happen. Actually it does, but it’s just an outpouring of thoughts in no cohesive order, grammatically ok, but just plain boring …
What has happened? I used to find it easy to pour my thoughts out via a keyboard. It was my way of ordering confusion in an increasingly confused world. I used to wake in the wee small hours full of ideas and find it easy then, with no distractions, to translate those thoughts into some sort of writing. No more. When I wake up in the wee small hours now, I just want to go back to sleep. My brain switches off.
So much has happened lately: the terrorist attack in Westminster being the latest. A few months ago I would have had thoughts and opinions, which I would have written about. I tried. I tried several times. I read other, professional writers, thoughts and opinions. There were many of those yesterday. Some I agree with; some I didn’t. None penetrated my brain enough to produce anything of my own.
A friend, and fellow blogger, yesterday wrote a piece which contained the word ‘happenstance’. I love that word. That’s it, I thought. I’ll write about that word, why I like it, with some examples. I even woke in the wee small hours thinking of it. Yes, it’s happened. I can write again! Job done. It didn’t happen. Well, it did, but it was just a lot of waffle. Not worth the effort and certainly not worth reading.
This used to be easy. Any thoughts? Anyone else experienced this? Will it go? Should I keep trying and become increasingly frustrated? Should I give up, realise I overstretched myself thinking I could do writing thing? Or what?
Retroladyretires 
Thanks Tom. I’ve heard before about scent being evocative. When I think of that I always remember the perfumes I wore back in the olden days as a teenager: names like Tramp (!), Aqua Manda and most of all, Kiku; also the smell of tar as the road outside our house was resurfaced. I love that smell. Watch this space … but it may take a while. x
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No thoughts really Sally, other than to reassure you that it will lift. Stephen Fry describes mood as ‘our own personal weather’. I listened to a speech of his recently when he said that all moods eventually lift. When I get stuck, I always turn to scent as a starting point. My memories and experiences are bound up most intensely with this sense. Perhaps evoke the fragrance of something powerful from the past. My father always describes the smell of his Grandfather’s shed. The gluey, polished wood smell. He can still construct it over 65 years later.
Just an idea. Happy (smelling) writing! x
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