Writing has been something of a saviour lately, during a time that has been both emotionally and actually exhausting (I have given up on my children ever sleeping beyond 5.30AM). I often find it difficult to write when I’m tired, or when there are so many things to juggle in life that my head is spinning. But this week, far from being difficult, it has come as something of a god send.
One of the beauties of writing is how it is so all encompassing, swallowing up the minutes until an hour has gone by that you have lived solely in your imagination or engrossed in examining the appropriateness of the words on the page, your page. And when life is busy, or hectic, or when it takes you horribly by surprise and knocks you for six, there is something to be said for having a pastime to lose yourself in, be it professionally or just for the love of the words.
And that’s why this week I am perhaps briefer than normal, keen to escape for a little while in my own stories, in the catharsis of creating characters I can control.
Or maybe I’m just a total workaholic, happy for any excuse to pick up the laptop and tap away.