Sometimes the simplest things can be the hardest to achieve. Hours, days or weeks pass, for some maybe even months, with nothing; a wordless page, an empty document, a mind void of inspiration and full of hesitation. For me it was four weeks; four weeks of numbing dead space inside my cranium. I had been steaming ahead with editing my second book in my trilogy, boldly confident that I would soon be back to writing the rest of book three in no time at all. I was wrong.
Two illnesses in four weeks grounded me, with no energy to lift my head let alone a pencil or a finger to write. Frustration overcame me and I was filled with discontent. I did all I could do, which was to heal myself as quickly as nature would allow. Suddenly, the thought of editing book two became a chore to loathe and I took the unsung advice of spirit and rested. When I was well again, I knitted, I read, I baked and slept well.
This week, having had no news from my first submission to agents after their customary waiting period, I returned to my first book and set about evaluating it with fresh eyes and mind. It worked! From somewhere deep inside I pulled the rabbit from the proverbial hat and, with scathing hand, sculpted the start of my trilogy into a tighter and better paced story. Confidence finds me again, windswept on that creative headland, words rushing past my ears and a sea of opportunity lashing the edited rocks beneath. I am content.