Why? Basically I fell out of love with writing because I fell out of love with my work in progress, my ‘magnum opus’, the novel that had become the entire focus of my writing life – and sometimes the rest of my life too – for the past five years. And because I felt I was going nowhere with the gargantuan epic – the story of one man’s life, I had become disheartened and full of self doubt at my own skill. I was also getting poorer because no money was flowing in.

Writers should write for the love of it, not for money. But if that’s the only way you get your income, then by God, it matters! You can’t fill cupboards just with love. So I suppose there was also a bit of panic adding to the mix. Looking at it all from a practical, living in the real world angle, Despenser had become, to use a lot of unwriterly cliches, a millstone around my neck, a white elephant, an albatross, a ball and chain around the ankle of my creativity.*

So, I have decided, for the time being, to place Despenser on the back burner.**

Yes, that’s right. My former one and only passion is going to have to be relegated from having top priority for a while.

BUT… Despenser fans, do not panic. I am not abandoning it. It will still be written (It has to be!!). It’s just that it and I need a little space to work things out. In the meantime I plan to write just like I used to – for the fun of it. For example, while I was still working on Despenser, I took a little time aside to revamp my old MA thesis novella – now known as The Devil To Pay. I enjoyed writing every word, the energy flowed, and it got written very quickly. That’s what I need right now: to smash out some rip-roaring stories that require no research (or very little). I need to fall in love all over again. And hopefully I will be able to publish them and earn some money!

It is also a trick, a cunning plan. By no longer feeling under pressure to get Despenser done, and by leaving it waiting on the side, I may feel encouraged every now and again to have a little look, and maybe a little write. Maybe. But no pressure, mind. It may then, soon, one day, regain its former allure and tempt me back with a new vision, a better storyline, crackling energy. Actually, no ‘may’ about it, I am sure it will. But until then I need to refresh my creative spirit and make some damn money.

So that’s about the long and short of it. Since I made my decision, I already feel my creativity starting to flow again and I’m enjoying putting together some ‘what ifs’. In fact, I’m excited, I’m hopeful, I’m no longer scared to write… and that’s just how it should be.

* I think it was the responsibility of ‘getting it right’ and then feeling that I wasn’t worthy of the job. I know, I know!

** I will still, however, be researching and doing blog posts for Lady Despenser’s Scribery – just more for fun than anything else.

I broke up with it.

Then, unsure, I decided on a trial reconciliation, broke up again, stayed depressed on the sofa, became addicted to Facebook, games and morning TV and just generally bummed around feeling bad about myself. Writing had been a part of my life since I was 12 and somehow I couldn’t see me being without it. I couldn’t be with it either. It wasn’t just a case of writer’s block: I knew what that felt like and this wasn’t it. No, I had fallen completely out of love.

I even considered a career change and looked for other ways to make money. But any job I looked at usually required experience and/or qualifications I didn’t have. And then there were the niggling factors of my age and my list of health complaints: neither were exactly going to be working in my favour. Maybe I could retrain? But as what? Everything that looked interesting needed some sort of degree or diploma, and I didn’t have the funds to take another course. Damn! Every door was shutting, except for the familiar old one that bore the name ‘writing’. I realised then that I couldn’t escape it; I needed to work out why I was feeling so jaded, why even just looking at the screen made me want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head.

I looked at what I was doing in lieu of writing. It wasn’t exactly edifying. Most of my time was spent on Facebook posting wonderful quotes… often, ironically, about writing. And once I’d put something up, I’d check back regularly to see if anyone had commented or liked it. And if not, why not? Did they not like the status/me?! I’d then read and comment on or like what other people had put, before going and rechecking my page, whether I had any messages or not, putting up another status… And then off I’d go again. If I wasn’t on Facebook, I would take to playing endless rounds of Bubblewitch Saga on King. Talk about mind numbing! Most of the time I’d clicked on a new game without even taking in whether I’d won or lost the last. It was just an easy-to-do set of repetitious movements.

Basically, virtual heroin to make me feel like I was doing something. Anything. As long as it wasn’t writing.

Suddenly seeing it for what it was, I started to wake up to my addictions – and yes, both things had become an addiction as I felt lost without them and felt a physical need to do them to the point I couldn’t think of anything else. I didn’t trust my self-discipline (so strong in the past but now as useful as jelly in a Tug-O-War) to just stay away so I had to take drastic measures (well, not overly drastic – I didn’t delete my account!). I found a great App for the Mac called Concentrate. Basically, for however long you want to focus, you can block all access to certain websites and applications. I blocked the usual suspects plus a couple of others that had wasted my time in the past. I set it for 3 hours.

Three hours!

During that three hours I honestly didn’t know what to do with myself. My usual get out clauses had been removed. I was forced to sit face to face with myself and, if not yet reconciled with my creativity, think about it. And I did think. And over the next few disruption free sessions I thought some more. And I came up with a radical explanation – well, radical for me anyway – as to why I wasn’t writing. And I knew it was about to turn all of my expectations on their heads.

Tomorrow, I’ll tell you about my conclusion…