This year is already confounding me. There are shifts in my thinking and in my actions that I am yet to understand. I am looking at the ghosts of last years’ ideas and wondering where they stand — whether they are real, imagined or waiting to be shouted into existence. And all the while time is standing still … it feels like the end of January in my mind, yet the calendar boldly tells me it is mid-month.
I have a mind full of stories and I am wandering between them all. In one corner is a half-imagined novel that I have dreamed of writing for years. For some reason it has taken a stronger shape now — I have a location and a number of connected ideas. I even have the starting lines and a sense of where the first parts will go. I am interested, yet not driven to write this yet … perhaps I am biding my time, or worse … procrastinating.
There is another, in the corner to my right. This story is all shining lights and bright covers. It is a short piece I have been meaning to write for some time … but something that I have also been avoiding. We stare at each other through a veil of promise. I think we may speak later this week — even if our dalliance is only short term.
Over by the doorway I can see an old infatuation. She winks at me and turns away. For all the world I want to run past the peeling paintwork and draw her back into my orbit. But each time I take a step I am interrupted by thoughts, ideas and new obsessions. I kid myself that "one day" will be the day that things change. One day.
In the mirror I am always shocked by the face staring back at me. I look through the bright eyes, hold my hands up before my face and expect the smoothness of youth. There are many stories that we COULD tell … but we often falter at the first paragraph. This year I plan to tell and experience a few dangerous stories. How about you? What have you got to tell?
