Location, location, location

I've been writing now for many years. I write, it's what I do. Unfortunately, it's not as easy as pen on paper or fingers on keyboard. As I sit here now I'm at a table, in a room surrounded by play scripts. This, I am told is the Writers' Room. Here in the new Everyman theatre there is a room set aside specifically for writers to write. It leads me to wonder why.

Well, if I'm honest I've dried up slightly and am not making any progress with the script I'm working on, so I decided to procrastinate and write this instead.

So why have I spent twenty minutes on the train and then walked ten minutes to get to a place just to write? I could right now be at home, at my desk with the coffee maker on, a tardis full of toffees and ginger biscuits in a tin next to me. Instead I'm here.

For me it's as simple as there not being enough light or circulating air at home. Seriously, it is dire. It's meant that since moving to that house I've needed to write somewhere else. Anywhere else. I used to cafe write in Soul Cafe. There was live music and an energetic atmosphere that gave me the energy and the momentum to continue writing. Unfortunately, the live music dried up and the place hasn't felt the same since.

For a while I tried the library, but the pressure to keep quiet just wasn't conducive to writing. It seems I can find any number of reasons that a location is not a good writing location.

Which leads me to wonder how many other writers have as much trouble as I do? I know that there are some people who do have very specific things that make their writing space a writing space.

And that's it. I have nothing more to write because my brain has gone and crapped out on me. I'm sure I was going somewhere, but now I'm done. I simply cannot write any more. Except this. And this. Oh and this. But that's it. I'm absolutely not writing anything else. No seriously, I know you don't believe me but I'm not writing anything else because I have nothing else to write about. How sad is that though? A writer who has nothing to write about. I'm sure there'd be a good story in that. Maybe a radio play? Maybe there is something in the idea of the storyteller who has told all the stories she knows but they are finally deserting her because she's failed to keep the stories alive by altering them and making them live and breath as unique stories. Of course ideas like that are all well and good but it is when I come to write the damn things that I start and never finish because I decide the idea is stupid. Did that ever happen to you? You know, you start writing then decide that the story is crap and stop. When it happens to me I literally print off the file, then delete the file. Once I've done that I'll rip the paper copy into as many pieces as I'm able to because I know it's crap and it needs to go away FOREVER.

Now, if by some miracle you've read all that you must be bonkers. This rambling is me just making myself write until my brain starts structuring things into a piece of writing that makes sense. Somewhat like this post has. Somewhere along the way I stopped and I wasn't writing properly. Then all of a sudden my brain got bored and was bullied into writing something that vaguely makes sense. Sort of. Kind of. Well, I rarely make sense anyway. I tend to be a bit bonkers and my brain runs faster than my mouth or fingers can keep up so I end up writing things like this.

Yeah. The point of this post is.......erm hang on.......no wait.....seriously, just a minute. The point is.....writing is hard! There. That wasn't so bad.