Not-doing

I realise when I wake up that it’s not just that I’m worn out. It’s that I need to change gear. Because I need to write an almost new scene I need to enter a relaxed dreamy frame of mind. I need to get out of the semi-editorial mode in which I’ve been for the last few weeks.

It’s the frame of mind I find most difficult because not-doing is the best way to enter it and not-doing is not something I’m good at! (If that makes sense.) Learning about not-doing is probably the whole reason for this crazy move away from a perfectly respectable and reasonably lucrative career as a book editor to this totally flimsy creative writing lark.

Anyway, I decide that a day in Exeter is the last thing I want or need. I shall have another day pottering at home, thinking a bit about the scene while I potter, but not stressing about it or trying to force it to happen. That way lies hell.

Luckily today is the dog’s day at the dogminder. A three-year-old hyperactive highly intelligent springer-spaniel/collie cross whose eyes follow me about the house saying ‘When are we going to do something? I want to go out and chase rabbits/pheasants/wasps/cows’ is not conducive to relaxed dreamy creativity.

So, I have a whole day to myself to do nothing. Bliss.