Thursday, 23 June 2011

Somewhere to write home about

Are there no limits to the hardships this intrepid Strictly Writer will endure to track down a post for this place? I tried to put together something a few days ago but, as so often, inspiration fled when I needed her most. So I've taken the iPad off to a spa hotel in the hope that these majestic trees and these pools and maybe "a complete detoxification treatment leaving the skin purified from pollution, beginning with a full body peel to encourage the elimination of toxins followed by soft warming flakes and feather brushes in a breeze across your skin, concluded with a fresh detoxifying gel wrap" will provide an environment conducive to writing. Not only this piece, of course. For the experiment to be chalked up as a success I must chuck out at least a couple of poems before we pack the massive suitcases. The plan is that Jess pampers herself while I scribble. We are justifying the obscene self indulgence with the excuse that we won't have a holiday this summer.

The assumption that a comfortable environment will bring forth peak performance has also struck the England rugby team, most of whom were either in the pools or showers with me yesterday. They are building a different set of muscles but I like to think we are essentially here for the same reason. Naked rugby players slapping each other playfully on the bottom is probably something to inspire my Strictly Writing colleagues more than me, but I did notice how unfeasibly tall they are - don't forget that detail, girls.

I remember when I was a younger and told myself I couldn't write because I couldn't afford a typewriter. At other times in life I didn't have somewhere quiet to stare at an empty page and didn't have the stomach to overcome my phobia of libraries. Now, for God's sake, I have a purpose-built summer house, several laptops and this tiny bundle of technology complete with waterproof roll-up rubber Bluetooth keyboard (on which the g and the h keys refuse to play even though I didn't take them into the jacuzzi with the England rugby team).

Despite all this writerly support, despite the dinner with the canap├ęs first then the two amuse-bouches and the between-course snack, (we debated whether this was an intra- or an intercourse treat), despite the "pre-pudding" that nobody could justify, despite the writing technology and despite the eight swimming pools, I am still scared I won't find words today. It's a tough life. All I ask is that one little poem might come dropping out of the sky before Jess and I have to rub mud all over each other's body at four o'clock (after the "therapist" has explained the benefits of mineral rich clay ochres). It is seven in the morning now. I'm waiting. I'm still waiting.

7 comments:

Helen Black said...

LOL...

I often look back at writing my first book, when I was also working full time a s a lawyer AND had four year old twins...and the words seemed to pour out.

Now I write full time and the kids are in school all day, and often it feels like pulling teeth.

Gah.
HB x

Fionnuala said...

The whole of the England Rugby team in the showers - which spa hotel!!! Tell me now.
Not that I'd get into the showers. I mean I'd try. But think I'd have a problem. And they're tall? That coming from you?!
God, see all I want to know now is where? Not why I'm rambling on here instead of working the WIP. Something to do with this ramble being easier, methinks...

Roderic Vincent said...

Hi there. I wrote that yesterday and did manage to produce three poems, which is a record. Never mind the naked men.

Anonymous said...

I think you've found the words, Rod, and should be writing for the new Mills & Boon rugby series:)

Glad you managed to find inspiration in the end.

Sam

Susie Nott-Bower said...

I think you should view the naked rugby players as your Muses...
Well done on the poems.
Enjoy the mud.
Susiex

Caroline Green said...

Yeah but I bet your skin is just peachy though, Rod ;)

Debs Riccio said...

'Never mind the naked men' Rod? No, I never do!
Fab post - and don't forget what Grandma used to say: "A watched pot never boils"... don't wait, procrastinate!