There’s a romance associated with the ocean; the rolling in of the waves, the lonely lighthouse or the abandoned house that sits on top of the clifftop as the mist rolls in early morning or at dusk and captures the ghosts of a time long since past. There are days when it’s tempestuous and violent and others, calm and loving, wrapping it’s waves around those that visit it. It’s an ongoing torrent of emotion waiting to escape, for its tale to be told … and sometimes, just sometimes it does just that.
I love being by the ocean, hearing the crashing of the waves lulling me almost into a false pretence. That it is as kind and gentle as I want to think it is – even if I know it’s not always the case. It’s the smell of the brimey sea air, the feel of the mist on my face and the rolling rush of water as it tumbles over and over in a race to the finish line … eager, this time, to win the race that it has been carrying out for centuries.
There are days when the world seems a lot like that, each day rolling into the other, competing to be better than the next one or the one that’s gone before it. Sometimes those days win and sometimes they lose. But, like with everything it’s the perseverance that counts … the I tried is what matters. I love being near the ocean because that’s where I write best, or well not just the ocean but any form of water. It’s a reminder to keep on going – it sounds strange, I know but having grown up on the stories of Robert the Bruce of Scotland, no stranger than being told to keep going on the basis of a spider. Trying and trying and trying again … and eventually, you’ll manage it.
It’s the constant back and forth, the repetition of the way that words will flow some days and not at all the next. It’s the idea that whilst, no, maybe this time I didn’t manage to write my allotted quota for the day … but there’s always tomorrow a new day where I can do just that and maybe a little more. But no day is waisted, there’s always something to do whether it’s world building or character building … it’s never left unattended. Always developing, always rolling on … to the point that sometimes we can sit back and go how did we get to this.
I’m not quite sure where this ended up … I had an idea on writing about the ocean and it ended up as this mess of a thing. But that’s what happens when faced with a blank sheet of paper, never quite know what’s going to come out, where it’s going to go or anything of the sort. I love that about writing, about how you never know what to expect … other than the unexpected!
Clara
Charlotte and Clara 