Monday, 3 December 2012

Small things

And so, the days move on. A week, then a month, passes without words. Finally, I return to the blank page, with a compulsion, much like being called before the Headteacher, to account for my behaviour.

How have I spent the last four weeks? Can I describe what I've achieved, justify the hours gone by, explain the difference I have made?

I stare at the page and a white blankness stares back.

There are so many things I want to be able to say, so many things I know I can't write here.

How do you describe an almost overwhelming sadness,  how do you portray an immense sense of disappointment, without upsetting everyone you know and care about? How do you grasp a life that's slipping by too quickly and turn a list of not-quites into a catalogue of success?

How do you come to terms with all the things you'll never be, all the things you'll never do, all the things you'll never see?

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I stare at the page. Slowly, gradually, there's something more than a blank whiteness in front of me. It's not the novel I always thought I'd write, nor yet a sonnet for my love. It's just some marks on a page; some letters in a sort of order, reaching out, trying to make a claim.

So this is me, playing with letters, dabbling in words. Hoping, one day there might be more.

10 comments:

Bill Dameron said...

I have been there, haven't we all? In the words of a very wise author, Anne Lamott, just take it bird by bird Sharon, and don't be afraid of a crappy first draft.

Glad to see you back!

mybabyjohn/Delores said...

A little dry spell...a little walk in the desert before you reach the oasis. Never fear....it will rain again.

Cle Reveries said...

Happy to see you back,dear Sharon.
A hug and a smile
Love
Cle

The Elephant's Child said...

The elegance and precision of your prose is so much more than dabbling with words.

Za faran said...

There will definitely be more! The way you write is fantastic!

Ayozie said...

Thankyou for sharing. I always enjoy reading your posts, including this one. The honesty with which you write is beautiful.

savannah said...

i like the proximity of the scrabble tiles next to this post, sugar! you play well with letters and i am grateful i get to read them! xoxoxox

Sophie said...

Hi Sharon,

Personally speaking, some of the marks that you've made on a page are a lot better than and meaningful than the bound novels I've bought and read. You write beautifully and don't really need to pen a novel to prove that. But still, if you do, I'll be waiting to buy it. Keep going. I hope there's more too. Not because this is not enough, but because you're brilliant at playing with letters and dabbling in words.

Pat said...

Days like these go with the territory - if you are creative. If life were on an even keel all the time there would be no 'Lady of Shalott' - or what ever floats your boat on the sea of literature.
Take heart.

Mrs Smith said...

What you are making here on this blog may not be a novel, but it is a beautiful collection of superbly written prose, a lovely memoir and a connection to a whole world of admirers. I love what you have captured in this post, the big tug of what we are not away from the celebration of the great things that we are.