The Writer Who Didn’t Write

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“Where have you been?” I hear you ask.

“I’ve been here, lurking.” I reply, guilt and doubt swimming about my head. “I just haven’t been writing.”

This summarises my recent activity, I’ve been in the background, weaving in amongst your blog posts and hoping that a smattering of inspirational mojo might enter me via osmosis somehow. It’s a sad state of affairs when a writer doesn’t write. It’s crippling for that part of yourself nurtured to flourish in a routine of turning up daily. I didn’t have anything to offer you so I stayed mute, and this was easy to maintain.

I have filled my days with work and running. I love to run, it used to be the only part of the day I spent alone with my thoughts, my time to put the world in focus and organise my overflowing head. I don’t get to run alone anymore, I run with my husband which I don’t dislike but it takes away that hour of solitude saved for virtual writing. If I thought about stories and plots I didn’t think about the constant desire to stop running, I just put one foot in front of the other and kept going until I’d finished. Running and writing served each other in this respect, they needed each other. Slowly, writing took a backstage role and then faded away. At first, it didn’t matter, I was occupied. I had work, family, running and commitments. Fitting writing in was a struggle as it was, did I really need to make life more difficult? Let’s not forget the effect that reducing writing time has on the linear decline in confidence, why bother labouring over something that will never put food on the table? Let’s just concentrate on work shall we?

I settled into this new routine of not turning up to write and all seemed well with the world. I continued hosting the Six Word Story Challenge as I truly enjoy meeting and learning from all you awesome writers. You’ve kept me connected and I thank you.

Slowly, inevitably, the itch to write has been creeping back into my day. It’s been scratching at the back of my brain, trying to push it’s way to the front and be noticed. At first I ignored it, after all, I’m better at running and mothering than I will ever be at writing. Then one day I was at a loose end, I’d been watching programs on Ancient Egypt with my son and my short story, Heart Scarab, popped into my head and with it came an idea for a novel. I spent the next few days plotting the story line, characters and conflicts and just like that, the mojo returned and I am back.

I’m sorry if my blog has been a dull wasteland of late, I intend to remedy that as of now. I am full of renewed enthusiasm for my new project and will be turning up daily to make it happen. After all, what’s the point of a writer who doesn’t write?




About Nicola Auckland

Busy wife to one & mum to two. I've caught the creative writing bug, now need to practice, get awesome and write something worth reading. Simples.
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7 Responses to The Writer Who Didn’t Write

  1. luckyjc007 says:

    I can understand how you feel. I try to think of things to write about even when I am not alone, but for me it doesn’t work as well. I get frustrated when I have an idea, but do not have the opportunity to write it down before it leaves my brain! It is so much easier to think and write as my thoughts come to mind.


  2. Pingback: The First Saturday 7 – Space, Time, and Raspberries

  3. maidsdayoff says:

    I’ve been struggling as a “writer who doesn’t write” lately. Congrats on turning it around! 🙂


  4. Sue Ranscht says:

    Do you and your husband talk while you run? Wouldn’t that make demands on your oxygen intake that your body wouldn’t appreciate? Can’t you just run side-by-side while you still write in your head? Or are you like so many of us who can’t bring ourselves to ignore people who happen to be with us? lol


  5. ranu802 says:

    I agree what’s the point? 🙂


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