Yesterday was a difficult day. I had to drag myself through it. I was bored – I was feeling the effect of isolation. We almost launched out to deliver a package to my granddaughter…no other purpose. Just to go, to get out, have an adventure. Instead I plodded through the day. Payed attention to my mundane list. It is troublesome to have a body that has a hard time with sitting for a long time, or standing, or walking. And a mind that tires easily, wanting to create but fizzles.
A book I once read on creativity…I think it may have been The Artist Way…suggested that in order to write, to be creative, an artist needs to shift gears and get out and experience life. Life experience is the meat of writing. By experience she meant out there in the world. It is there that we find the sparks, the inspiration.
During Covid, I feel bereft of inspiration. In this little world, there is no spark. There is the TV, of course. Good grief! Right now I see only images of the Covid virus and the political mess in the country. How much writing can one do about that?
I guess I am looking for a leading. This week I added something to my “to do” list each day: “Call______________________________.” I don’t know who I will call, but I have a list of folks I haven’t touched base with in a long time. Even folk I never really talk to but have their number for some reason. A couple people I will call because I worry about them during this Covid time. I fear that some of these may not even be alive.
Perhaps the Writer will see a spark in the darkness or a truth that is worthy to share.