My Current Writing Life

The Roomful of Demanding Children. A Substack thread.

It struck me that elements of what I do, as a disabled writer, are likely to be different to the nondisabled writer. Also, since my brain trauma I have attempted deeper analysis of my creative process in order to smooth off the edges and watchfully remove any unnecessary barriers. And, especially, what I call these days - overlap.

Overlap is inevitable and it is something of a bane. The damage to my brain remains a surprise to me. That is, in terms of the functions I have lost or those that have weakened. It's as though they've happened to someone else, or at a remote distance. This means that when I fail to multitask, every time I'm shocked. It used to be a good skill of mine, even infamous, and second nature to me. No longer. New approaches are evolving and this journey is not the easiest.

Overlap is akin to the roomful of demanding children. Or adolescents perhaps. They are eager and bright, and want something and they want it now. Each demand, each request is that child and each besieges me until I become frozen in that land of overlap. 

What time is it? 

What page is chapter ten? Why are the bird feeders are empty? Did I research that stuff about the train station circa 1890? Have I decided on lunch? 

What time is it? 

Did the medications come? The character in chapter four needs cutting back. And oh…

What time is it?

Several months on from my brain bleeds, I feel very lucky that the essence of me, the way in which I think and feel, is largely intact, particularly when it comes to hardcore writing. Ironically I now have a more acute focus because there is no other way of doing it. I have to think incisively. The thoughts have to be organised and digging deep. This process needs to happen before one word hits a page, whether that's by dictation as I'm doing now on an app, or by dictating to my amanuensis Harry.

By the time Harry and me are working, several layers of the creative process have evolved because they have to and I thank my marvellous mind for still letting me do this.

I can no longer handwrite though sometimes I attempt it particularly for birthday cards or notes to my mother. Fountain pens remain a weakness and I have over 20. Throughout my recovery I've attempted to treat writing by hand as a meditative art and maybe exercise. It takes a long time for my fingers to hold a pen and to stay pain-free.

Sadly such activity is no longer the area in which I create work. Whatever else has happened, my brain still wants speed. The words come and they must go down fast. The most frustrating aspect of this is not having someone on tap. Harry works for me and can hardly be kept in my wardrobe for whenever that urge to write hits.

I always need to see what I've written which can be another challenge as I have a moderate visual impairment. This is okay on my official work sessions with Harry because while we work remotely, we can screen share and he can read back to me what I've done while I follow it in the magnified document. Simply recording myself speaking rarely works because I have no system or physical capacity, to rewind and replay. And my subtle memory breakages would loom big here. What did I just say? Lines lost in the process of speaking them…

I am under medical advice to rest well, to calm my mind for at least ten minutes every hour. I sit in my lounge, my wheelchair tilted, legs on pillows, looking out at my bird feeders when I can though it is not the easiest thing to do when I'm in one of those notorious passionate flows of inspiration. But I try because I cannot show indifference to what my brain went through. I don't want any repeat.

I have several elaborate systems of planning in my work and I believe they are all valuable – timelines, character back stories, plotlines per chapter. Most of these start as dictated notes that I often do before I fall asleep. I remain a night owl in this sense though we're talking 9 PM rather than 3 AM which is when I used to enjoy writing in frenzy.

I am pleased to say though, I've worked to my new methods for six months and completed the first draft of my latest novel. While writing my column for Byline Times and delivering other commissions that came my way.

I do try to find pride in this achievement. I think I earned it.

Hoping dear friends, you are all well and flourishing. Thank you too for supporting me and do consider, if you can, becoming a paid subscriber. It really does help. So far,  for instance, paid subscriptions cover my annual Society of Authors union membership cost. It’s nice to think of it that way. 

Much love and brightest blessings

More soon.

Penny x

Ps: sad I missed the Northern Lights. They appeared here over the coast, and I wheeled out into the carpark in my nightdress at 10pm, hopeful. Disappointed to see nothing, but the moon was a pretty crescent, quite bare and bold.