Yep, you read that right. I do think I’m a fraud when it comes to my writing. I spent the last three years writing a manuscript that I now think is best placed in my bottom drawer, along with the two other half finished manuscripts.
My life has become so immersed in being mum, because that’s absolutely what I need to do right now, but in doing so the only writing I’ve been doing has been in my head, or notes to self about real life issues. Nothing creative makes it out of there because when I do get a moment to sit and write it’s all gone.
I crave silence, to enable my brain to work again. I crave space to be, to create. My impatience to create wakes me in the night, makes its own restlessness.