My stylosa are coming out in bloom. The first spring flowers to appear in my garden. They are beautiful, fragile, perfectly formed. The clump that produces them gets little sun, no care and is an unkempt tangled mess of stylosa leaves, long grass and ivy. If only the tangled mess of ideas in my head produced such perfectly formed and pleasure-giving writing!
At the moment I have too many ideas competing for time. This is a new experience for me. Usually I have one project on the way at a time. Now I have three. Will I go down the memoir path before it’s too late? Or continue with another play? Or keep writing my present novel – not historical – which seems to have stalled? Other writers often have several projects on the boil and seem quite happy with that process.
I think I need to be single-minded. So which?
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