In the almost three years since my husband died I have managed to hide, dug deep to keep the writing at a minimum, and managed to just about convince myself that it was better to not write. So I focused on others' writings, editing academic theses and proposals, even soundboarding for a young writer with so much talent he puts me to shame.
Then, last year, I was attacked by a wanna-be rapist and murderer who stole my laptop - a gift from friends at my last permanent job - and my 'writing' soon consisted of reblogging quotes, cute pics, ineresting stuff to my tumblr blog titled simplyclover... (Yes, yes, I know. Excuses)
Well, hopefully this is the start of something new (or a continuation of what should be), and now it's back to a 24/7 work schedule because, at the end of the day, writing does not only happen between 8 and 5 or after midnight. It happens when there is a need to say something and if I consider the way I can talk and talk and talk... as I said, 24/7.
I first referred the writeupcafe.com monthly competition to others and it was only when I jokingly said it could be quite therapeutic for me and all agreed, that I considered going there.
It took almost a week to shape 3000 words and even though I had laughingly spoken about the therapy of writing, it was my tears and the declining ache inside that showed me the truth of my joking and I submitted a few hours before deadline.
Now it's wait and see till the 31st when results are known but the bug has bitten, bubbles of excitement that I have not felt in years are tickling their way through my system, rising to the surface to burst with the joy of being a wordsmith.
I sense a bit of the bounce which was my 'trademark' for so long and know that this is what it means, for me, to be alive!
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