So, I’ve lost it. The flow I mean. It’s amazing how fast one looses it. Just one week of vacation, and just the thought of touching the guitar gives me nausea. I feel the same way about the piano, I just cannot bring myself to touch it. Just the sound of in annoys me. I don’t even feel like doing any pilates!
I know I have to get back on the horse, but it’s freakin’ hard. I had this day during my vacation in the south of France where my mother had brought me a collection of poems one of my friends have written, and I got so god damn inspired that I couldn’t stop writing. Where did that inspiration go? I know my poet friend finds it hard to write as well, but when I read her it’s like words, thoughts, images and phrases just keeps pouring out of her.
Apparently it’s not that complicated. That’s what people say anyway, people that make a living out of their writing I mean. You just have to write every day. A Norwegian writer said, in one of his articles, that he gets up at nine, and directly sits down at his desk. Then he writes for three hours until 12. At 12 he has a shower, eats lunch and the rest of the day he spends doing other stuff. I really like that model! Now, could I possibly pull it of myself?
It’s all a matter of will, isn’t it. But I CAN get up at nine, and I CAN write for three hours (being careful not to mess up my arms with tendenitus again). It could work! And then I would be able to spend the rest of the day doing music, reading or ride a bike around Paris.
I so need these six months to work for me, creatively. In January I’ll have to find a steady job, and I’ll never have this kind of freedom again. All that’s left is to find out what to prioritize. The short stories? The childrens book? The short film? The other film? A phd project?
Sometimes it sucks being a bélier….