It's been a long time since I posted here. I don't know if I'm going to ever post regularly here again. It doesn't suit me to do regular posts here as I don't doodle or write very short stories specifically for sharing in the way I used to. I also made a choice to let the domain name expire and revert to the default blogspot address so there are a few dead links here and there. (My Redbubble shop is still going though, with all my many silly designs.)
I'm figuring out where my creative mojo currently lies. I've had a difficult 12 months (or more) but I'm hopeful about getting back on the wagon.
My anxiety has spiralled since the pandemic started (though the pandemic is not solely to blame) and teaching, with it's very blurry, ill-defined work-life boundaries, has become too much. I'm making a change to a job with clear working hours and when those hours of work are up each day, I will leave it behind at my work place. There is no parking so I will be back on public transport. When I lived in London, this was where many of my old creations sprung to life, so I'm hoping to go back to the commute being a little creative/me/down-time.
But I do want to share something with you today.
The last few months I've slowly been feeling better, and I've been making an effort to listen to writing podcasts which have encouraged me to do a little bit here and there, trying to form a habit.
One of the podcasts I listen to is Tim Clare's Death Of 1000 Cuts, which is my favourite because he talks about anxiety too and a lot of it resonates and has been very helpful. I started at the beginning so it's all been episodes from the past so far. I'm up to late 2018 so there's about a year to go (I'll get there in a month or two though) before the pandemic hits. It will be weird to listen back to that time, I'm sure.
As well as his podcast, he's done a couple of writing challenges, one of which is the 100 Day Writing Challenge, which is what I'm also currently working through. Each day is a 10 minute writing exercise. I'm on Day 15, which was a free write, where you spend 10 minutes writing whatever pops into your head without (in theory), censoring yourself along the way. I do admit to correcting the odd spelling/wrong word as I do, mind.
I was quite pleased with today's. I'm at the tail end (I hope) of a two or three day anxiety episode, and I feel much better after writing this than before I started.
It's nonsense, of course, and the beginning doesn't quite make sense with the end, as I had no idea where I was going with it, but the idea it eventually turned into is one I think I can probably use. It's definitely my kind of weird.
***
We didn't know.
How could we?
It was not expected.
But what was it? I haven't figured it out yet. I, the writer, the creator of this world, don't even know who "we" are. Are we even people? Is it the Royal We? And what did we not expect that has now come to pass? A monster? A disaster? A puppy materialising in front of our very eyes.
Yes.
That.
A puppy. I like the sound of that. Let it be a puppy. Not a recognisable breed. A puppy with brown hair, not the brown you're now thinking, but a shade darker, and a shade glossier. It's maybe seven to eight weeks old, and it's fifteen to twenty percent larger than you are picturing in your head.
Go on, make that puppy grow slightly in your mind. It doesn't feel quite right now, does it? I've made it, just with these two subtle changes, more present in the room than it could possibly actually be. This puppy is super-real. And it's hovering in mid-air before you in your mind. Only it's not in front of you. It's in front of us. The "we" in my story.
Just seconds ago it wasn't there. We were stood in a row, for reasons that are not apparent, and gazing collectively at an empty space in Janet's front room. And then it happened.
The air, the reality in front of us, started to bubble at the edges, like burning photographic film, and a new reality formed. A reality that is more real than the most real reality you've ever laid eyes on.
And that's how we got Mr Tickles.
He's sixteen now, still as real as ever. People avoid us in the park, when we take him out on our walks. I'm not sure why. He's clearly a very friendly dog, though he is admittedly a little larger than many people are comfortable with. We never take him out for walks during one of his "episodes", so it can't be that.
***
This was a few hours ago, and now I've just done bedtime with our 6yo daughter. We've been re-reading the first few Ms Marvel comics, and we picked up where we left off, which is just after Medusa sent Lockjaw the inhuman-turned-giant-teleporting-dog to look after Kamala as she figures out her powers. I'd completely forgotten where we were up to, or at least I thought I had...
