Wednesday, January 6, 2016
So...the thing is...the play?
The play, Hamlet; it's what got us to London.
I've thought of that sentence many times over the last few weeks, but not what would come after it. My intention upon returning from our two week trip to London was to write, write, write. Not just about our trip, but new stories inspired by what I saw and what I experienced. I was so sure the desire to get down on paper, or screen, every detail of our trip would be present because I would want to remember everything, right? I would feel new, fresh and creative once again, right?
But that hasn't happened. We've been home for over two months and I've written one completely unexpected blog post about one moment of our trip. For the most part the words have not wanted to leap out of me like some sort of crazed beast. Instead they've stayed trapped behind a wall of routine. I often grab a notebook and a favourite pen, hold it too tight and stare at the blank page, but try as I might, the words don't come. The will to write fades and is quickly replaced with an achy sleepiness that is unfortunately becoming a state where I live out most of my days.
There is so much I could say about London but honestly a lot of our trip is still the "feelings", many things done and seen are still locked in a place of emotional experience not ready for words. And what tales I could put into words, I just can't find the energy to write it all down.
This is sad. This is frustrating. This is not me. Over the last few years I've taken to writing much like I've always taken to acting. It became a part of me. It kept me going. I needed to write. And now…it's slipping away.
It is a painful for me to acknowledge, as obvious as it is, that over the last year my creative writing has come to almost a standstill. London aside, there's a lot I would like to say, but I just can't. Like exactly why I'm very angry, often. This anger that I can feel living inside me, eating away on my nerves and sense of reason. Yes, this anger, I'm so very tired of it. It's like a poison. It's suffocating and it's hard to breath creativity into life when are gasping.
There is a lot I need to let go of, I just wish I knew how.
Or rather, that I had the courage to let go.
Because you see, the play, it was the most amazing thing and one day, I hope to be able to tell you why.