First of January 2019

My new year post is supposed to be a summary of last year and an overview of this years plans and intentions (fascinating I’m sure, but once out in the world it gives me a purpose/ intent – call it motivation to do what I have told ‘my public’ (hah!) I’m doing). I may include that here, but I"m now driven by a more pressing need to share my New Year walk and associated thoughts.

There are times I want to share my walks with another person in the flesh, and other times when I’m glad I’m on my own. Walks when I can stop as often as I like to photograph odd things, like deer prints or seashells (or what I would consider seashells) broken open and decorating molehills. When I can stop to watch the antics of a flock of long tailed tits flitting from tree to tree ahead of me, or listen to their piping calls amidst the cackle to magpies, ducks, gulls and pheasants.

This was one of those walks and I was alone. Very alone. No-one else continued along the riverside path with me. In fact most people I passed were heading in the opposite direction. From between about 3.20pm and 5.10pm I was alone in nature. Peaceful, darkening nature.

As I walked along the river Waveney from Beccles quay; pausing to enjoy the glory of a full, vibrant, rainbow arching over the river, marsh and pastures; the golden sunset glinting on silvery reed heads and rippling water; the layers I tightened when I first emerged from the car into the crisp winter afternoon began to loosen. My nose crept above the warm embrace of my scarf to inhale the rich, sweet aroma of the rain damp earth. The ground was soft but not slippery underfoot, uneven but not uncomfortable as I follow the river. A breeze skimmed my cheeks, gentle and cooling as it teased the hairs at my ears. First one button, then the second released my coat to swing open, tapping against my hips with each step.

Watching the dance of the reeds on either side of the path I listened to the rustle of dry stems and leaves. Skeletal trees were silhouetted, reaching up to the orange and gold sunlight fading to the horizon. Surrounded by such peace, tranquility and isolation, my mind wandered as it is want to do.

The path, the river, the marsh, the willows and birch clusters and the pumping station are all settling into my mind as possible scenes, settings for stories. Tranquil scenes, characters finding the same peace I did, or contrasting scenes of violence would all work; have all been filed as possibilities. I noted that the likely abundance of wildlife, including deer and swans, the shelter and the open paths all merge to serve to create a perfect hunting ground for werewolves. (A normal thought process, obviously!)

I progressed to thinking about several of the werewolves whose stories I have started but are yet to finish. Should I bring them here? I haven’t allocated their stories for this year, but now all I want to do is write about a were. To do this I must find their notebooks; reacquaint myself with where I left them; consider my programme for the year; assess my priorities in both writing, editing, promoting and photography terms.

January to March have been allocated as a primary marketing push, to sell more books and to increase my author profile. (I had a very long and probably positive conversation with an American marketing firm, who are reacting to interest from several publishing houses who are interested in the rights to ‘Worlds Apart’ but want to understand the marketing potential by developing a marketing strategy for the next three important book buying months of the year. Sadly I can’t afford this and have turned them down, but I have taken several key ideas from them – timing, profile focus – and I may be basking in the positive feedback they offered. If I am at my most cynical, it may just be a sales ploy on their part, but still… I’m thrilled with some of their comments.)

But, could I also allow this time to finish a novel? First drafts are, for the most part, hadn’t written which means that I can do them wherever I am – at work, on a train, half way round a quiet evening walk… But I had planned to finish the first draft of ‘The House Part 2’ (working title), my failed National Novel Writing Month 2018 project. I also want to possibly re-edit either ‘The House’ or ’Apothecary’s Basement’ (both working titles) after getting some reader feedback – both of these are currently in 3rd draft phase. I have Redbubble Profile to continue to review, update and expand, and would also like to take some of the sketches I have stored in my head to the sketchbook and then perhaps getting my watercolours out again. Can I add another ‘to do’ to my creative ‘to do list’, which in itself is amidst the housework and social to do lists.

Much to think on. Musings continued as I completed my walk in the dark. Having drafted the first draft of this entry whilst sitting on the river edge to get the words out of my head, I heard the bird calls fade from a raucous chorus, to the occasional cry, to silence. The grey clouds chased the remaining gold to a thin streak on the horizon, and me with three quarters of an hour walk to complete. But it was peaceful and calming.

If my descriptions are insufficient to transport you, here are a few of the images I snapped as a lingering memory:


Framed


Willow Sunset


Looking Back

Journal Comments

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