My writing has taken a backseat as reality took unscheduled control of my life recently. Juggling work, hospital visits and an overwhelming sense of worry, put everything else on hold. Sometimes life really is just about trying to get by and make it from one day to the next.
The result is that I hadn't really written much for a few months, other than some rather somber song lyrics. It seems when I'm happy I write stories. Happy, sad, romantic, adventurous, it really doesn't matter, the story ideas just seem to bubble away in my head, eager to break free and make it on to the page. However, when I'm sad the stories fade away and short lines of rhyming heartache take over. A chorus, a verse, even whole songs will come to me as I drive home or try to sleep.
The start of the final term of my writing course last month however meant that I had to pull myself out of my slump and release my imagination once more, or maybe it was more a case of giving it a kick start... There's nothing like the thought of reading your work aloud to the rest of the group to inspire determination to come up with something. Preferably something that isn't horrifyingly bad and embarrassing.