I was lost for words. My brain wasn’t coming up with any thoughts that I could translate onto paper with pencil. I’d even turned to the dictionary, a whole book of words- randomly flicking its pages and staring at entries but found nothing that could kick-start my creativity.
Films and books hadn’t helped either, they only served to be make me feel small, inadequate and unable to better what had gone before; nor creative exercises I found on the internet.
In the end I took to driving for hours, hoping I might see something in the city, town or country that could become the basis for a story. Each day I would rise, get ready, then see where the road took me. Then, when I started to get too tired or too far from home, I would switch on the satnav and let it guide me back. Slowly I was covering the whole of the manageable radius.
It was on a Tuesday afternoon I found it, not long before home time, in fact, on a narrow street in a part of the city that had once seen prosperity but was now slowly decaying. The shop itself looked well over a hundred years old, maybe two hundred. Its front featured a bay window jutting into the street. Each of its three panes were made of a grid of small windows containing ribbed circles like bottle bottoms. Given its name I walked straight in. This might just be what I was after…
Films and books hadn’t helped either, they only served to be make me feel small, inadequate and unable to better what had gone before; nor creative exercises I found on the internet.
In the end I took to driving for hours, hoping I might see something in the city, town or country that could become the basis for a story. Each day I would rise, get ready, then see where the road took me. Then, when I started to get too tired or too far from home, I would switch on the satnav and let it guide me back. Slowly I was covering the whole of the manageable radius.
It was on a Tuesday afternoon I found it, not long before home time, in fact, on a narrow street in a part of the city that had once seen prosperity but was now slowly decaying. The shop itself looked well over a hundred years old, maybe two hundred. Its front featured a bay window jutting into the street. Each of its three panes were made of a grid of small windows containing ribbed circles like bottle bottoms. Given its name I walked straight in. This might just be what I was after…
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