Good Enough

The mornings are getting noticeably darker. I walk in the murk now. It is especially dark down by the harbour. No walk on the Perygyl though as it was too wet. I walked around the turning circle now flanked on either side by mobile homes and SUVs. Out of nowhere the sound of a barking dog. I couldn’t see it. It seemed to be coming from a van, parked at the end of the line of vehicles. I shushed it as best I could before another dog began to join in, a smaller dog, clearly from the yappy quality of its bark. Then a man’s voice telling them both to be quiet. The van’s side door must’ve been open and he and he dogs must’ve have been sleeping there open to the wind, stars and rain. And why not? I would have loved to do the same. I am sorry if I disturbed them. The town echoes with the plaintive cries of young gulls. They have been ousted out of nests and have to fend for themselves but they are clearly disorientated and thrown by the rejection. They promised rain but so far it is holding off. Fingers crossed he will be dry.

I think about my writing as I walk. It’s been difficult the last few days. I have got stuck with it. I still write, still try to make my quota but the results have not lifted me. Is that really what it is about? Being good at it. Or is it about being good enough and concentrating on just doing it. As Julia Cameron says, ‘showing up at the page’. I don’t know where I am going with it, what it will become. Again, what does this matter? The important thing is to do it, just do it. Get it all down and then begin to edit afterwards. ‘The right to write’, JC calls it.

We lay on the grass and got covered in its dry strands. The smell was so evocative, and it was so pleasing to feel my belly about the earth. I watched the life teeming beneath me, the ants and beetles. The sports field groundsmen waved a greeting, happy in their jobs.

I go to be tested today. What will that bring?

Now tea and then work. Onwards.