The time has come, the Walrus said, to speak of many things,
Of shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings.
This year, as I'm sure you've noticed, has been different.
We're all adapting and finding things out about ourselves and nothing is quite as it was.
Along with many others I have been unsettled by events, pulled out of my comfort zone and forced to look at things anew. One of the ways this disruption has manifested itself for me is by an inability to concentrate. I have found it very hard to read, only completing three books since March and failing to get my current book started properly. I have also found it difficult to write. A couple of short stories and several abortive beginnings are all I have to show for this year.
All this saddens me. Reading and writing have always been my solace, my safe haven and my way to express myself. To lose these has been hard and has left my mind fuzzy and woolly and dull. I don't feel like myself and I'm not sure who I do feel like either.
Luckily November is looming and I have decided, for better or worse, to attempt NaNoWriMo once again. I have an idea for a story about a girl and a locked room which I hope I can get a rough plan together for and then it's off with the writing. Assuming that the Covid gremlins don't pull me down I will return to a regular writing habit and flex my imagination once again.
Fingers firmly crossed, of course!
