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| "I've got to get back to feed my cat." |
Department of Adequate Angst
I normally try and work out what I’m going to write about before opening my eyes in the morning so that after I have commuted to the computer, I can go straight to work.It’s also a neat way of avoiding writer’s block – if that is something you suffer from. I’m largely spared that particular form of angst although I have adequate supplies of angst about other issues so still qualify as a real author.
Angst is de rigeur as far as we creative types are concerned. It is as adrenaline. Or so they say.
Currently my angst is being dissipated by Charlie (Charlotte to strangers) a three legged white cat of singular personality and an ulta-loud purr, whose presence is so calming that I’m wondering what history would have been like if Hitler had had a cat.
But I’m glad to report that even with my angst meter temporarily set at low, I still seem able to write.
This morning I woke up with a new and better beginning to THE BOOK-LOVER’S MOVE in my mind. The story has been gestating since I drove across the U.S. back in April but now it seems determined to emerge regardless of my personal priorities.
Writing is less a vocation than a compulsion; and, for many of us, it is even more soothing than a cat.
Hitler, of course, was a writer too - so maybe Charlie wouldn’t have succeeded with him after all.
But I wouldn’t bet on it.
MEMO TO CHARLIE:
Currently my angst is being dissipated by Charlie (Charlotte to strangers) a three legged white cat of singular personality and an ulta-loud purr, whose presence is so calming that I’m wondering what history would have been like if Hitler had had a cat.
But I’m glad to report that even with my angst meter temporarily set at low, I still seem able to write.
This morning I woke up with a new and better beginning to THE BOOK-LOVER’S MOVE in my mind. The story has been gestating since I drove across the U.S. back in April but now it seems determined to emerge regardless of my personal priorities.
Writing is less a vocation than a compulsion; and, for many of us, it is even more soothing than a cat.
Hitler, of course, was a writer too - so maybe Charlie wouldn’t have succeeded with him after all.
But I wouldn’t bet on it.
MEMO TO CHARLIE:
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