Writing when you have nothing in particular to write about
This morning, I have nothing in particular to write about. I have been enjoying a wonderful cycle of creativity recently, where everything, everything, feels as if it is potential food for a poem and I wake up writing lines in my head. And then today, nothing. Or rather, I began a poem in my head and it’s just awful written down.
I knew I was forcing it. It’s a sign that I need to recharge, refuel.
On my Online Programme right now, we’re experimenting with free-writing, writing anyway, writing when you have absolutely nothing that you really want to say, just writing and keeping writing.
And it’s the opposite of forcing things. It’s about letting go into the writing, keeping things loose, easy.
Because sometimes the pressure of wanting to have something meaningful to say is what stops us in our tracks.
In this month’s online Horizon Review magazine by Salt Publishing, who are publishing some of my favourite work in contemporary poetry right now, such as Katy Evans-Bush, I read an interview with Pascale Petit (another favourite) who says that she writes in large notebooks across the double page so that she doesn’t feel cramped. (I am paraphrasing here. This is one of the details that stayed with me from the interview.)
And I think that describes it nicely. Don’t allow yourself to get cramped. Breathe. Expand.
No clients today so I’m going to do some cleaning and tidying (maybe) and get out into the sumptuous autumn colours too. Nothing like getting my body moving to allow the words to begin writing themselves.
