Writing About It

My head is in a muddle today. Seems like I should apologise now rather than go back later and do it. I am taking a week to finish the book and although the writing is easy, what is happening in my dreams is getting very scary. I am postponing decisions and avoiding people. Not actually spoken to anyone for ten days other than answer calls during my two days at work. Isolation getting bad for me – yes, probably, but I am used to it.  In my dreams, sitting next to a window looking out on the rain, I am taking a razor and slicing lengthways along a perfect vein – mine I think. Awake, I am questioning what I feel about love and relationships. My childhood memories are of two wonderful parents perfectly in love. So with this example before me, I start to wonder what happened to me. What happened to love in my life? Maybe I had a bad day and bit someone.

My life has wonderful things; art, theatre, books, music. I seek out and enjoy so many amazing things. I know where to find the best performances, new ideas, and wonderful experiences. I have been educated and cultured to enjoy these things. I guess I am an intellectual, although that seems a daft word for a woman who likes to dance on the table every chance she gets.

So who are these people I am writing about? I don’t know them or recognise them. They have arrived from a dark, depressing place where people’s lives revolve around bingo, the pub and TV. This is not my life’s experience. You should write about what you know. That’s what the text books say. Where are these characters  coming from. No idea. I no longer know why I am writing about them. The more I write, the less I like them.

I am almost at the end of the narrative and this is where it gets messy and violent. Dreadful things happen. Yet these things are no more dreadful that the things that happen every day. You can read about them in papers all the time. Well you can, I won’t. It is too depressing for me and newspaper is what you wrap the cat litter in, isn’t it. But I have to make it through to the end and see this book finished. Beginning to wonder if I will make through too.