Days off, day out.

Days off, day out.

A busy week.  Still working nights, leaving me all day to sit and stare at the telly write or watch youtube videos on home-improvement do some work around the house.  To break the stifling boredom further improve myself, I visited the Royal Academy summer exhibition, the biggest open submission art show in the world.  Was agog at some of the yet-to-be-lauded-appropriately talent on display: sketches, portraits, landscapes, all beautifully crafted.  I went around without a catalogue as I didn't want to be distracted by fantasy shopping, so remain oblivious to the artists in most cases.  But one that stood out for me was a piece where an artist had used a paint chart as a background and had drawn a little vignette on each coloured square.  It was simple, and inspired.

I thought the technique might also be a good aid to writing.  using an old paint chart to throw down ideas, the background colours might inspire a particular emotion or feeling.  I'm going to try it anyway.....

Also, whilst sat in the temporary 'Friends' cafe, which has been moved during a refurb, I was surrounded by walls stripped bare, uncovered back to the original timber cladding, which was peppered with a history of small nail-holes left by the hangings over the last two centuries.  It was like the DNA of the building on display, a time-line etched on the bare limbs of the house. It was as fascinating as any of the art in the other rooms.

S'funny how often visual art inspires me write.

The Good Book.

I have a notebook.  It goes everywhere with me.  I carry it around like a little black-bound conscience, and I'm sure is often mistaken for a bible, causing people to give me a wide-berth, fearful that I may be about to preach at them.  (A blessing in itself.)  It snarls at me, it nudges me, it comforts me.  It is a symbol of my good intentions.  It is my sanctuary.

It contains over-heard conversations, family anecdotes, snippets of poetry, drawings, maps, timelines, sudden bursts of inspiration, plots, plot-holes, miraculous answers to all my plot holes, character sketches, and many more questions than answers.  But, everything is thrown into this crucible, to fester, to mature, to form connections and grow.

It contains all of my best work.  Artistically, it is what I am most proud of.  No-one will ever read it.

And I have read many opinions that keeping such a notebook may actually stop me ever writing anything else.  I can't agree.  I couldn't give up my notebook.  I view it like a sourdough starter, something that needs to be fed everyday, and which, in turn, leavens and nourishes my writing, producing a lighter, more individual style.

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