Bubbles

A lovely day yesterday dog-walking and gardening.

Bubbles – of memory, connections, ideas – started to rise from my subconscious, like methane from decomposing rubbish. Not to mention blog posts which wrote themselves in my head. I obviously can’t stop my brain working completely but at least I can take the pressure off.

At first when I take the pressure off all I am aware of is emptiness but I realised yesterday that emptiness is essential because it’s from emptiness that both happiness and creativity arise.

I still however have to write that blinking scene for the novel and I still have no firm idea of how I’m going to do it. I’m giving myself the rest of this week off and then on Monday, come what may, I’m writing the scene. Even if it’s rubbish, it’ll be something.