Gathering Plotlines for the writer on the train, or finding inspiration in the strangest of places.

I am transported back to a train or tube journey, I cannot recall which of the two that it was, but I was in a carriage several years ago. As I travelled across London, a young lady sat across the carriage from me wildly writing on post it notes throughout her journey. Peeling them off and sticking them to her knee as she went.
At the time, it struck me as odd. I was not the only one who wondered what she might be doing, what she was trying so hard to remember. Her brow furrowed as she did so. The pen clearly not writing quite as fast as she was thinking.

What odd behaviour, I thought, like many others around us within the carriage. I wondered if she was alright, her demeanour frantic. Now as I am transported back to this image and memory, I have a better understanding of how when writing, a flash of inspiration can strike at the most inopportune moment, you grab the nearest thing and begin to write, the urge taking hold of you completely. Words tumbling across the page, if you are lucky enough to have a page in front of you at the time, but arriving even faster than it is possible to write them down. At the end of her journey, she collected them all up and shoved them into her bag as she alighted at her station, her eyes darting from side to side as she left.

Thinking back, I hoped that she was a writer. That whatever temporary madness was caused by the stream of thoughts would be outweighed by her talent. That her words and thoughts were wonderful and would be read by many and appreciated. I silently wished her all the best in her endeavours.

We all have our places for inspiration, I have always been a bit of a people watcher, I also have a fairly good memory for people. I don’t usually forget a name and I can recall people and moments in time from many years ago. This is at times both a blessing and a hindrance, but for writing it gives me a plethora of people at my disposal which will form characters in stories, just as they have done in my life. I spend a lot of time up on the hill, which I enjoy writing about, whenever I am searching for solitude, or rest and need to replenish my soul it is my sanctuary, but alas it is not where I spend all of my time. I also live elsewhere, closer to my family and the places I grew up. I have thought about moving from this place on several occasions in the past few years, but have always stayed relatively close, choosing not to sever the ties here.

It occurred to me today that I have the perfect window on the world here for my writing so why would I wish to move… I am perfectly situated on a busy road, which overlooks a school playing field. When the children are not there, it is a green space with rabbits running wild and leads to allotments, where people come and go at all times of the day and night. It is a busy corner of the street, heading towards a nursery, where children are dropped and collected and their play is heard all day. There is also a primary and secondary school. The parents park outside the house and walk their children in, gathering outside to meet their friends, talk, smoke or just walk past. There is also a cycle path, where people jog on a Tuesday night and it is not the best time to walk a lively dog. The scouts meet over the road, the meeting place of an almost secret society, which I have never been privy to. There is a leisure centre down the road, and shops nearby, with enough characters to fill a multitude of books and that is without the ones that I have actually met over the years.

I also have considered that I may have too many pairs of pyjamas in my cupboard. As I put away the washing earlier, I noticed them just sitting in the cupboard all clean and folded in a multitude of colours, ready to sit around in all day, whilst I write my bestseller. More than a different pair for every day of the week is probably just greedy, I have amassed them over the years, not knowing that it was in readiness for such a time as this, when I am sitting up writing at 3am again and feel the need to change into fresh ones when I am finished and ready to sleep. I don’t have the heart to throw any of them away, strangely the different colours can offer inspiration and tone to my writing, dependent on which ones I am wearing. Red can be racy, Sky Blue can be dreamy, Lemon can remind me of Spring, Lavender of France and Black can be just plain dark or sultry. Hmm, Is that more than slightly mad and I wonder, can a girl have too many pairs? Surely they are like shoes aren’t they, a girl can never have too many pairs…


Lost work or When Mercury goes Retrograde

It’s frustrating isn’t it, when you search the depths of your PC, your files etc, only to find that it is gone….
Is it another hazard of the planet Mercury going retrograde. When the planetary movement destroys the work which was not backed up properly, or fries your technology. Of course, that is not the actual description as to what happens, except that invariably does. To much clasping of hands to the side of the head and Oh No’s!

I do believe that it IS a real phenomena, it happens so regularly and goes on for weeks. Every quarter and lasts for around 3 weeks at a time. Where suddenly Pcs’ Phones & TV’s begin to play up. It affects communication but not just online causing havoc in your life, especially to the unprepared.
Thankfully the internet can offer you a warning of the impending doom that is on it’s way and for the next few weeks you’d better hang on tight, but there is good news, the current one is due to finish on 22nd and not return until late August apparently.

At least the knowledge of it’s existence serves to advise you that you are not losing your marbles and that you can stop pulling your hair out. My reason for writing this… Well, I have been caught out on a few occasions with this. Lately I have begun to back up my Laptops to an enormous external drive. But having done that with every file I can find, I still can’t find it…

There have been a few things I have lost over the past few months, which have caused me great distress and whichever “Safe Place” I have put them in they have yet to materialise from. But the aforementioned IT, was from about 10 years ago, when I wrote a short story. I can remember sitting at the computer, no laptop back then for a very long day, then going back to edit it the next day. I was quite pleased with the end result, although I never sent it off anywhere to be published. It was on an ancient PC, at one such time, the PC began to “play up” again and I subsequently lost a lot of my files from it along with a hard drive. I relied upon a back up on the PC and it failed me, but I wonder if I did actually manage to save it, if only I could remember what it was called.

Recently my thoughts keep returning to the story that I wrote. I cannot remember the whole thing, but the character’s name and backline are in my head, so often right now that I felt that I should search for it again. Since all my old backups are now on this one drive. I also have another just in case I am dealt a further cruel blow, I’m being careful now.

I am now gathering up my work form the years gone by. I refer to myself as a new writer since I have not openly written or published anything until recently. However it occurred to me that I have been a part time writer for many years. I have poems, short stories, ideas for books, allsorts of things. I remember that I was writing a book when I was fifteen. I wonder what happened to that? It must have gone adrift in the 13 house moves since then. Thrown away to start again, or is it hiding again in storage which may never be uncovered, awaiting the day when it is cleared and someone may either find it and destroy it, or decide to finish it and publish it.

So, it may be that I have actually been a writer for years. Not a failed on, just a not ready to launch yet one…

My valentines cards to my partner have often contained poems of love, I wish I’d written all the poems down elsewhere, but I’m sure that in the grand sort out, they will turn up in the cards, since we tend to keep them with the lovely words we have written. I thought about updating my website, my social media with my current choice of work experience. Maybe that unscheduled time off which forced me to be the person underneath all the rest of it that I am, can come out to play, learn to dance as my words do, off the page.
Maybe I have finally embraced what IS meant to be after all these years, the writer who was hidden underneath. Watch out world. Here I come….

As my writing persona takes me to a whole new level in my life, I am grateful for the new opportunity I have seized with both hands. For the new experiences it has opened my eyes to and the people I am “meeting” along the way, via social media and the fact that this year, I WILL publish my first book.

I haven’t been sitting idle, and stopped banging my head against the wall whilst I tried to figure out the next step forward for me. I have begun to do what has been there all along. I am happy. Everyone knows that writers have no money until their big break, right? So we pared back, hunkered down, stayed in and stuck together. I have gained strength from the process and we live a simple life again at the moment.

Look Up


Image used with Kind Permission, Kristin Granger – Gratitude in All. 

As my morning browsing took a new turn , I saw this image. It reminded me of how things used to be, when younger we were encouraged to look away and not look others in the eyes. Whenever we walked together his eyes averted to the floor, as to cause no conflict with others, not meeting their gaze as they passed, in case they might think badly of him. (I never asked for what, afraid of what darkness might come from his mind) He missed out on what was around him for so long, became sad, withdrawn and introverted, or was he always that way.  It is one of the reasons why I rebelled and have something to say to him now “Yes, Look up see it and smile.  Relish in the beauty that surrounds you before it is gone.”

Gratitude in All – Facebook


Springtime Flora #2 Pots, Palms, Poppies & Nemesia


A Shady corner of the Patio, with Pots, Palms and Poppies with a little Nemesia.

Whilst I am enjoying the sunshine and over the past few days writing about so many other subjects, this is the place which grounds me.  Before I take off once again, into memories and my imagination and the words reach the page.


A Gazebo and a Telescope, The Boot Sale and the Wonders of Minimalism.

There is a Sunday Boot Sale over the road to me this morning, they have them regularly there. Whilst we were out for a walk with the dog the other night, I suggested that I might “Do a Boot Sale” since it would be a great opportunity for me to get rid of a load of clutter. I have a constant aim to de-clutter at least a little bit, my partner is constantly talking about the “stuff” that we have, but we haven’t quite got there again and the loft is beginning to groan, so it’s definitely time I did so again. He does it too, arriving home with some interesting things over the years, a present or a project for me.

Years ago, I complimented my friend on her “Minimalist Living” and asked her how she managed it. Since there was evidence of vintage items all over her home. Oh that’s easy she said, I store everything else away in the loft in boxes. Although she hadn’t quite grasped Minimalism, she had us fooled for a while, but now I know the truth! She alternated the items in her home, keeping only a small quantity of them out, the others would return to boxes in the loft until she fancied a change. My partner urged me to go and take a look in case I found some wonderful thing there, which I could sell on for a profit. I‘d have to get up early to find something there and Is that really a good idea? I asked. “Last time I went there, on foot, I came home carrying a Gazebo and a Telescope.” Hmm he said, maybe but don’t get another gazebo. It is the sort of conversation which makes absolutely no sense at all. Why on earth would I get another, I didn’t need the first one, which has sat in the loft ever since, along with the telescope, both of course which I will definitely use (one day). Both will be useful in the right place, probably on the hill or if we ever have a party in the garden.

So I will resist the urge to go and see what else the locals are disposing of over the road, which new thing would grace our home with it’s presence. I must resist, I must resist and instead I will revisit it here and write about it whilst I reflect upon the constant wonders of minimalism, just how do they do it?

#ExplorersoftheMind – Reblog

I loved this article and felt the need to share it.  Having never looked at it in this way before, it rings so true, whilst we slog through our work, reaching the end, the spoils for both Writer and Explorer are rewarded.

Both writers and explorers discover new worlds. A new story idea for a writer is like the strange new land that an explorer sets out to discover. An explorer uses a compass and map to navigate through an undiscovered new land. Some writers have a detailed plan of their story idea and plot to help […]

via Similarities Between Writers & Explorers #SundayBlogShare #writers — BlondeWriteMore

Having the Vision

Oh if I could have the vision to see, what in the future I could be.

The dreams of past failures gone, giving me strength to carry on.

Oh there would be the sense of delight, that courage inside would not take flight.

leaving me hiding in the dark, not out in the world to make my mark.

A chance of regained confidence, for this work some recompense.



The Daily Post – Vision