As dusk approached, we walked the streets, large in numbers. A fresh breeze came which filled our chests and refreshed minds, reminding us to take it all in.
For one night only, we were city-free. From end to end, a whole neighbourhood had been reclaimed and then laid out for people to dance and eat, prop up their front porch, or to display their true colours any which way they wanted.
In case you missed it, Tony Walsh’s delivery of his poem at the Great Manchester Run, is worth a moment of your time.
It’s a shame that these swells of inspiration and coming togetherness only seem to occur following such a tragedy. If we could find it in our everyday then maybe great and good things would happen more often..
I recently put together a submission as a part of an application for a writing job. The process was a fairly straightforward one; write about something that inspires you and influences your practice. I opted to write about my current favourite magazine, Boat, as the theme and quality of writing always buoys me up 😉
However, a couple of weeks after I sent it off, I received a reply telling me it wasn’t quite what they were looking for.
Apart from the specifics of what was missing (insight and personal reflection should have been on the agenda) I realised I had once again fallen into a familiar mindset. It seems that lately, whenever I write, I become bent on just finishing the thing and getting it out there. I’m constantly rushing, whether it’s a short story or otherwise and find I often cut short the writing process just so I can say I’ve got something done.
Inevitably, the result is a finished piece, but hardly my best so it’s no surprise I’m not getting the answer I would like. In truth, I’m struggling a little with my identity as a writer. As time goes by, thoughts of ‘making it’ seem more fantastical than ever. Couple that with my mid-thirties fast approaching and the uncomfortable question keeps niggling away – is it make or break time? (Or just broke?) It seems as though the more I reach for it and the tighter my grasp, the further away a reality of accomplishment and satisfaction becomes.
So, for nobody but myself I rewrote the piece as if nobody is going to read it. Nothing to gain, just the truth according to myself. Hence, I’ve discovered a motto that I’m going to take forward this year and hopefully a different way of working; Write like nobody’s reading. Fitzgerald said something similar, but I can’t recall the quote. If anyone knows it, please tell me!