Blogging’s taken a back seat just recently. Partly out of necessity because I’ve been busy working, studying for my fitness qualification and with my own training too. But also because I felt I’d lost a bit of my writing mojo.
It happens sometimes. When the impetus is not so strong, or I feel like I’m in danger of saying the same old thing the same old ways again and again and again.
Professionally, in my job, basic craft, good habits and sheer commercial imperative will always mean I can meet a deadline. And I like to think it’s generally good.
But it’s the moments when I strike on a word or a phrase that delights or surprises me that make writing sing. And the singing moments make it all worthwhile.
I’ve learned through experience, not to fret too much about it. To have faith that it will return, probably most unexpectedly.
And I’ve been thinking, well, reminding myself actually, that writing is an exercise.
You can work on your technique, change your style, learn from others, take inspiration from your heroes, mimic them, follow their rules and plans for success.
But it takes discipline, criticism, learning and consistency to get there.
You find your favourite routes, understand your strengths and work to eliminate your weaknesses. You can use your mantras and motivation, but there’s no substitute for just getting out there and doing it.
It’s like running, or any kind of training, really.
I haven’t always been a runner, but I’ve always had an ear for a story or my head in a book. Two very different activities, but they fit together very well.