Hey everyone,
I woke up this morning, walked my son to school, then came back and slept for two hours. It got me thinking about my twenties, a time when I traveled a lot, read a lot, watched a hundred movies a year, and spent inordinate amounts of time hanging out with friends, talking about everything and nothing, and sleeping. So much sleeping.
And yet, when I look back, those are some of the most productive times of my life as well.
This morning, as I lay in bed, I wanted nothing more than to walk to the train station, get on a train and go somewhere new, absolutely anywhere. Doesn’t matter where.
Just the act of traveling, getting on a plane or a bus or a train and experiencing a new place, new food, new people— it’s one of the things that have most provided me comfort during difficult times. Travel has always inspired me, motivated me, and helped me stay creative. I write a lot when I’m on the road and it sparks new ideas in a way that I just can’t seem to access when I’m at home. (I got the idea for my second novel in France and for my third while I was on holiday in Thailand last year.)
And suddenly, I sat up and thought, well, what’s stopping me?
Sure, I don’t want to get on a train for non-essential travel, but I live in Brighton. Next to at least a dozen small villages that people from all over the country and the world come to visit. While I’ve explored some of these areas, there are beautiful walks all around me, there’s at least one major literary town nearby, and half a dozen secret places to explore that residents have told me about in Brighton itself. So, I jumped out of bed and made a plan for how I could explore some new places this week, without having to get on a plane, a train, or possibly even a bus.
Of course, travel isn’t the only part of my life in which I’ve done this. I’ve also done it with writing. And I bet you have too.
We get precious about our writing and how we’ll do it instead of just seeing every word written as adding to our practice and skill level. We insist on writing a chapter of the novel, even when we’re stuck and it’s not happening, when a small blog post might just be the thing that pulls us out of our rut. We dream the big dreams, sometimes forgetting that smaller steps can help pave the way for getting there. And of course, most of us are guilty of assuming that a page of a novel will likely give us more creative satisfaction than a short blog post.
Some years, you travel abroad. Some years, you stay home and walk to the next village.
Some days, you write novels and 4,000-word feature stories. Some days you write blog posts and do 10-minute practice sessions in your journal.
It’s all important, it all adds up, and most crucially, it all matters.
But only if you let it.
Today, I’m committing to letting it.
Cheers,
Natasha