Being a writer can mean many, many different things. Sometimes, it means hours spent alone, dragging reluctant words from the depths of a troubled mind, forcing ink onto the blank page, one uncooperative phrase after another. Other times, it means acting as ringmaster to a cacophony of uncontrollable characters who fly across the pages with minds of their own, wilfully disregarding your own intentions for them. On occasion it seems almost impossible to stem the flow of pulsing purple prose from your fingertips as hours race by unnoticed, strings of sentences clicking into perfect place like links of literary gold chains.
Other times a writer’s lot will be that of a researcher, chasing down facts to support the inspiration, carefully noting the things that will never make it to the page but must be understood, nonetheless. Writers are the mothers of their works, yet must also be the butchers of the same – and be brave enough to wield the editor’s sabre, even to the most loved of their compositions.
There are times when to be a writer means to be one swathed in rejection and broken dreams, yet still find it within them to take up the pen once more, in spite of the negative tides that cast them time and time again against the rocky shores of disappointment.
But sometimes – on a damp and drizzly Monday in Cambridge, say – being a writer means sitting around in your pants, nursing the remnants of a head cold and watching re-runs of The Sweeney. Because life’s funny like that.
* Top quality line from the endlessly quotable Jack Regan, from The Sweeney
Lucy Brazier 
Tea, cake and nostalgia – some of the essentials of life. Never truly doubted your heart and soul firmly in the right place. x
It is amazing how similar being a writer is to being a technical author sometimes… yesterday being a technical author involved a headache so bad I had to hibernate followed by watching episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer…
then I dreamed I had a dress with wombles on and was disappointed this morning when I remembered it wasn’t true…
The similarities are striking! I hope you are feeling a bit better now. I also would be disappointed at the lack of womble dress. We should get someone to make us some – although first we would have to find womble fabric. Next time I am on Wimbledon Common I shall keep my eye out for some!
I am thank you 🙂
I hope you are too!
I will have a look too…Womble dresses should be a thing!
Incidentally my phone autocorrects Womble to Wimbledon
I am feeling much better thank you! Still a bit of a dribbly nose but I can live with that 🙂
The phone knows all… for they are creatures of Wimbledon! In the womble re-boot they moved to Richmond Park , I think, which is just not the same.
How can they possibly have moved to Richmond park?? that is not the same at all. It doesn’t fit with the song! Or the name Womble… if they were from Richmond they would have different names…like Richard… or something…
‘Underground, overground, Richarding free… Richards of Richmond Park are we…’ No, it absolutely doesn’t work. Also, the verb ‘richarding’ sounds very rude!
Nonononono! It doesn’t work at all!
Richarding does sound very rude… not suitable at all for womble types at all…
Richarding sounds like something done late at night, possibly after an ill-advised kebab and an evening drinking in shady establishments. I’ll probably do some Richarding this Saturday… 😀
yes exactly! talked about in hushed tones and whispers… 😀