Today was one of the most fantastic and confronting days of my writing life. Today I spent my first full day in my very first office. It was incredible and hard. I have four walls and two doors wrapped around my writing space. I am contained within the house, undisturbed and alone with my work.
I have been dragging a trail of words and thoughts behind me for 18 months now and today I could finally place it all together and look at the pieces of writing that made it all this way. Some parts of my work were lost or left behind, others are back in Bali from before I decided to write full time. Ideas where torn up in a share house in Sydney and scrap notes of paper have been left in my mothers spare room. A thought came and went in a cafe in Milton but somethings did make it, characters & times & spaces. Today I had to face that mess and see what I had left.
I woke early and started the day by reading a little of The English Patient by Michael Ondaatjie as I eased into a day of writing. I was naive to think that if I built it, the writing would come. I could barely sit in there. I stayed within the confides of the office for periods of an hour at a time, then had to get out. I put loads of washing on, swept the floor and made lunch, being in there was confronting. No more excuses. I have always had a reason why I have not been writing too much.
It is my office. I am sitting at the desk writing this post. I cannot believe it. The most important messes have traveled this whole way and made it to Merimbula. I am stunned and excited and scared by it, and a part of me keeps saying ‘Your not ready for this‘. I better figure out how to get ready pretty soon, or I will miss it all, cause it is happening.