Deadheading (this avant garden)

Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do.

Make good art.

Neil Gaiman


Delving into my mind and picking out the dead flowers isn’t really the way to start this journey  in public but I feel it is a must. Realistically I want you to see the wonderful array of colours, the aromas, I want you to touch me and feel the millions of textures that make up my being, indulge in my busy tongue and my rambunctious mind. The journey I have taken, the places I have stayed, the people I have met and the compromising situations I have had to deal with or have been forced to deal with that nearly saw the death of my craft.

For over twenty years I have constructed words into some sort of order but mostly disorder, I have painfully spent days and nights writing tales of enchantment. The amount of wax I have burnt in secret so I could read late at night is quite costly, the pocket money I spent on fancy fountain pens and the amount of aches and pains I have endured lugging back piles of books from the library. This has been no hobby – words have and will always be my life.

After earning a degree, my life changed. The year was 2006 and I was given a book by Anaïs Nin. Now to put this into context, I hadn’t written for years of fear of not being good enough, the ideas would come and attempt to form themselves and some days I would write a few lines but not enough to get back into the role of writer. So, starting this book was exciting, someone I had heard of but had never had the chance to read. I started with Henry and June. After a few pages I was absolutely glued to each word, sticking to each page and reading it so slowly as if I would absorb pieces of her very soul. It was through this I believed I could write again, I could breathe again, I was no longer drowning in a mundane existence that I had let people create for me– I had life back in my lungs. What is it that made me feel this I hear you ask? Anaïs has a wonderful skill of texturising, colourising and filling her characters full of poetry, you feel and you breath them in whether they are fictional or people featured in her diary, no-one goes untouched by her ethereal mind.

It is now 2017 and through many months of pain and distraction, I have arrived, yet again to a place in my creative life that I can comfortably say – I am not going anywhere. The journey has been long, tiring, soul destroying and at times it felt like I was about to give up a major organ but it came through, it came back and I have many people to thank for that, some I am very close with and some I have never had the pleasure to meet. One day I hope. I have finally made it to the core of my being and I believe this is just the beginning of a long and wonderful journey.

 

 

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