Disintegration

It disintegrated as soon as it hit the floor. I honestly didn’t let it go on purpose; one of those unavoidable accidents.

I stood there, looking at the hundreds of pieces, thinking that I could imagine them back into a whole. How stupid; how sad.

I remember when I first saw it; it was in the window of a bric a brac shop in Rye, almost invisible among the load of dross surrounding it. But the colour caught my eye, setting it apart from the ordinary. It’s always colour that draws me.

It seemed to fit in immediately when I got it home – comfortable, as if it had been made for me and the house; made it complete somehow.

To start with, I put it in the living room and kept glancing at it with a slightly smug expression. How clever was I to have found something so beautiful and exotic. Next, I put it in my bedroom so I could lie in bed and gaze at it, following its sinuous lines with my eyes until I drifted off to sleep.

Then, later, I put it in the kitchen where so many of my favourite things are. I’m afraid it got a bit buried behind the other bits and pieces that seem to accumulate in that busiest of areas. But every now and then I’d come across it and it never failed to brighten my day.

So now it’s lying there, shattered, and I can’t help feeling a bit sad. I really should have taken more care of it…

The Problem

I’m going to start by writing about writing – the actual process of gathering thoughts in my head and putting them down on paper. I think that the words need to convey the exact intended meaning to the reader. But that’s not my main worry; it’s actually finding the words that I need which causes most of my problems. I completely forget the word required to make sense of what I’m writing. Therefore, I intend to write quickly as the words flow and when I come up against one I can’t find I will simply insert three question marks so I can keep the thought going and come back to the word later.

So this is what this blog is going to do – free up my vocabulary again, dust it off and work with it so frequently that it becomes second nature again. This, to a seasoned writer, will no doubt sound ridiculous. How can you forget words? How can you possibly have a thought and then not be able to put it straight down onto ‘paper’?

My other problem will be finding something to write about. You can only look out of the window and write about what you see for a limited time, especially when that view is neither particularly spectacular nor interestingly populated.

Once I get the words going I’ll try and concentrate on other aspects of writing.

I think I’ll seek out an article in the paper each day I sit down to write and weave words around that its heading – not necessarily around the article itself.

First ever blog

Well, I've been pushed into starting by Sara!

I read somewhere that if you write something, anything, for ten minutes every day you get used to putting your thoughts down on paper. I'm not going to kid myself that I can keep that up, but this blog is going to be my journal. It will contain my ramblings and my triumphs, my gripes and my joys.

Not a diary - more a collection of brain dumps!