Oh my goodness, what a question today’s challenge is. What do I do if I’m not writing? I really had to think about that one – which, of course, meant I wasn’t writing at the time. One answer in the bag. I think a lot when I’m not writing – though others would call it daydreaming, which probably amounts to the same thing.
I’ve always daydreamed, even as a small child I’d be walking along daydreaming. One day, I think I was about 5 years old, I walked straight into a tree. It hurt – I banged my nose and burst out crying. My mum wasn’t very sympathetic, she told me I should have looked where I was going. Thanks mum! It made no difference, I still walk into things, trip over things, fail to see people I know (and therefore fail to say hello). It gets me into trouble.
What do I daydream about? Writing, holidays, life in general, the future, the past, family – all the usual things we all daydream about I guess. I find it therapeutic and calming. If I’m angry or frustrated about something, feeling anxious or nervous, I take myself off for a walk and a long think. It always helps.
I also like to bake bread – though I haven’t made any bread for a while as it’s been so cold during the winter months. Now I don’t eat so much bread my stomach is flatter – win all round there I think. I also like to cook, though I don’t cook during the week. I get up very early in the mornings, walk my dog (and think of course), breakfast, shower, make my packed lunch and then go to work (I start early so I can finish earlier). When I get home in the evening I have a cup of tea, walk the dog again and flop. By that time it’s usually around 6pm and my hubbie’s cooking the meal – bless him.
If I’m not daydreaming, baking or working, I’m usually reading when I’m not writing. Reading is my first love – and it’s helped me so much in my own writing. I can’t remember a time when I couldn’t read – though I do remember the process of learning how to read. It was a magical moment for me, the day I realised that each word had its own shape and that shape was always the same – it was like the key to a magical world full of endless possibilities. Because that memory is so powerful I appear to have blocked out any sense of frustration which must have taken place before that one amazing moment.