Almost as soon as I stepped off the blogging treadmill, I resolved a problem which has held up a new novel for two years.
It was a flash of... well I won’t big it up as inspiration, but the solution just popped into my head and now I’m motoring through the thing. I could have it done and dusted in a few more months.
I think I know why too. If I’m blogging, then my idle musings are dominated by real people and events. If I’m writing, my idle musings are led by my characters. What would they do in such and such a situation? Where are they taking the story? Are they mad?
For me the issue can’t be forced. In other words my musings depend to a large degree on the outside world. So if I’m blogging and the outside world real people are chucking hints at me, there is little room left for purely imaginary characters to strut their stuff.
It was almost startlingly sudden too. Stop blogging – bang! Two year old problem solved, the writing cranks up and I’m motoring again.
It’s an insight into the mechanics of my own mind where one type of involvement suppressed the other to such a degree that I just couldn’t do both. In many ways an odd but enlightening discovery about limiting effects of involvement - discovered a little late in life.
It’s also an insight into how actors on the public stage involve us with the trivia of today to such an extent that it suppresses certain types of creativity. It sounds terribly pompous in the context of my own writing, but does the cult of celebrity crush the delicate flower of genuine creativity?
Mine must be delicate – it’s stopped again. Must be all this bloody sunshine.