Tag Archives: #creativity

Just write!

I’m pretty sure that I’ve blogged along a similar theme in the past but bear with me.

Last week I shared Book Baby 7 aka Riley’s front cover with the world. (Here it is in case you missed it – Riley…..cover reveal | Coral McCallum) The reaction to it has been great so thank you but here comes the confession… the story still isn’t quite finished yet. Oops!

I’m not a million miles away from being finished. I mean, what’s a few thousand words between friends?

For me, writing timescales are quite fluid. Writing happens when it happens. The joys of being an indie author. The only person setting word count targets and manuscript deadlines for me is me. And, you know what, that works for me just now.

Creativity is something that’s always there. Even when I’m not actively creating/writing something, there’s that wee part of my brain whirring away with ideas/thoughts/potential characters.

Creativity is also a great coping mechanism in this manic world that we live in. It’s an escape from reality. It’s a way to create a better/alternative reality. It’s a way to express our thoughts and feelings. It’s a way of telling a story.

Humans have been storytellers since the start of time. There was no one sitting in the cave or around the campfire saying that the storyteller needed to stick to a certain length/word count, or a structured formula for the story. There were no paragraph and chapter plans. There probably weren’t that many titles either. Storytellers simply told their stories and over time and re-telling these stories were embellished and enhanced and improved upon or discarded depending on the audience’s reaction.

No one back then worried about having qualifications in creative writing or language or literature.

Folks simply told the stories that were within them to tell.

I follow several groups on social media for authors/writers/bloggers and all too frequently you see aspiring storytellers’ dreams quashed because someone insists that their story is too short/too long, that they need a professional editor that they probably can’t afford or that they need a professionally designed cover that they can’t afford either…you get the picture.

Creative souls are sensitive souls. They need to be nurtured and encouraged. This world needs more storytellers.

So, my message to any aspiring authors/writers/storytellers is simple – tell your story your way and in your own time and enjoy telling it.

Just write! And keep on writing.

And on that note, I’d better turn my creative attention back to my unfinished book baby.

Image sourced via Google- credits to the owner

Continue the Story……

Last Wednesday, I spent the day in Glasgow shopping with my Girl Child. We did the usual mother/daughter things- coffee, shopping, lunch, more shopping. After so many long, restricted months, it was nice to just meander through the shops, masks on, doing something that felt “normal.”

One of our last stops of the day was Paperchase. I love that shop. As a writer ,what’s not to love – notebooks, journals, pens… oh I was in seventh heaven! I was also looking for a specific journal as a gift. As I searched for it, I spied this lonely book lying on the shelf.  It wasn’t what I was looking for, wasn’t what I was planning to buy but it spoke to me… no, more accurately, it screamed at me! I bought it. (Well, it was the only one left and it looked lonely…. and well it had pleaded with me…)

I’ll confess, creatively of late, I’ve struggled. Progress with Book Baby 7 has been painfully slow. For once, I actually have a clear idea of its storyline but putting pen to paper and stringing some sensible words together just hasn’t been happening. This isn’t writer’s block as such but more like burn out. The batteries were totally flat.

As I shared on here last week, I knew I needed a rest. And you know what? For once, I listened to myself.

I’m in the middle of my two-week 2021 Staycation. Week one has been hot and sunny (I love the sun!) and I’ve barely been indoors. After months of working in my living room, I can honestly say I’ve hardly set foot in it for 10 days. I’ve walked, I’ve run, I’ve practiced my yoga, I’ve listened to music, I’ve shopped, I’ve relaxed in the sun, and I’ve read and read and read (I’m on book 4 for this staycation). Apart from last week’s blog, I’ve not written a word.

Having bought the Continue the Story journal, it lay abandoned on my desk for three days before I picked it up and flicked through its pages. They whispered encouragingly…. I picked up a pencil, selected my prompt and tentatively tested the waters….

If you can’t read my handwritten scrawls, here’s the typed version of the short piece I wrote last night.

She’d waited a lifetime to see this view. Well, it felt like a lifetime- a hundred lifetimes! All those long cold months dreaming of this moment. Those endless dark depressing days where thoughts of this moment were the pot of gold at the end of her rainbow. The hours she had spent breathing stale clinical air, imagining it was clean salty ocean air.

As she’d sat on the plane the ay before, she’d fretted that she’d done the wrong thing. Was it too soon? What if the kids needed her? Would the cats be ok? Was four weeks too long to be away?

Despite her exhaustion, jet lag had kicked in. She’d been wide awake in the strange bed at 4am. With no one to answer to, no one to tip toe around for, she’d got up, showered and dressed, throwing on a vest tee, shorts then, as an afterthought, her Hard Rock Café hoodie. Slipping her bare feet into her flip flops, the key and her phone into her pocket, she left her rental apartment.

The pre-dawn air was still and cool. In a few short strides, she was across the worn planks of the boardwalk and heading down the nearest path. The sand felt icy cold on her feet as it flowed over her flip flops. Kicking them off, she padded down the beach towards the ocean.

Gentle waves lapped ashore. Sitting down on the soft sand out of reach of the waves, she hugged her knees and let out a long sigh as the sun started to rise above the horizon. Her pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

The creative batteries aren’t quite fully re-charged yet but they’re getting there.

When your words are going round and round in your head…..

sometimes you just need to let them.