Friday, 22 August 2008

Writing bug

Lost in it. Head down. View of the world reduced to a blank white page rapidly filling with loose black words pouring from my pen. A familiar voice asked with playful surprise - "Are you writing a book?"

Took me a moment to come back into the real world. I looked out at tanned feet in sandals below indigo jeans, lifted my head to see the friend I had been waiting for. So good to see each other. Been too long. Smiles. Hugs.

As we walked off together, linking arms, catching up on news, I still had the image in my head, of me sitting there on the park bench moments ago. I write every day. I have a couple of bigger projects on the go. Why had that question touched such a nerve? 

It hit me with a mixture of excitement and dread. Maybe it's time for me to raise my game?