Follow Your Dreams

I haven't written a blog in a little while,  mainly because I've been on holiday to Pembrokeshire, which might be my favourite 'get away from it all' place.  I go, with my family and eat, walk, drink diet coke, play cards or backgammon and read.  Writing is something I do in the kitchen before everyone is up but as there is no internet or phone signal I don't post blogs.  Instead, I have been working on my story about the woman who kills her husband by pushing him in an Amsterdam canal and the Long Suffering Husband has been vary wary of me as we stand at the top of mountains.

I thought that when I got back all the ideas I'd had for blogs would be fighting their way out of me, arguing about who goes first but they prefer to hide.  They are pretending to be shy, afraid of what people might think of them, worried that they might be judged and found lacking. This surprises me, as my blogs (it turns out) have been about me finding a writing voice and even I have been surprised at how intrepid it has been.  It is not daunted by difficult subjects or rude words, so it seems odd that after a small break it's checking over it's shoulder pleading to be liked and cowed into silence.

In my phase of devouring self-help books that I went through in my unhappy and self-obsessed twenties I remember reading that you should do what you think about doing when you are relaxed and on holiday.  Follow your dreams. I would but my dreams are only about eating, reading,sleeping and murdering husbands.

Is that man's wife just behind him about to give him a big push?

I think reality might be safer, so this blog is an attempt to force the writing voice back into action and return from the holiday, where it dreamed of being silent and popular.