My Workshop
I often start writing by hand in a small Smythson diary. I prefer “The Panama” size. When I can’t stop thinking about an entry in my “Panama,” I edit that entry and transfer it to a midpoint—My Workshop. And sometimes, but only sometimes, entries into My Workshop evolve and graduate into an entry in a book, at which point I delete them from My Workshop.
Here you will find rough drafts. Works in progress. Things I thought independently or read from others. Things I wanted to preserve. Things to remember. These may never make it into one of my books, but they too have formed and shaped me somehow. By offering up these rough drafts, I hope you might be inspired to find your own unique creative process, too.
Mountain Ash
Michelle and I have been in England the past few weeks for bereavement. Mummy was diagnosed with terminal cancer eighteen months ago, and she lived bravely until she passed in March. We are grateful for her 84 years, and I’ve devoted two or three other entries to her.
Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh, also passed a few weeks after Mummy. We join with all citizens of the UK and the Commonwealth countries in mourning and prayers; and we are sorrowful for the Queen’s loss of her life partner for the past 73 years.
We’ve learned this past month that grief in a pandemic is subdued. Muted even. With masks and social distancing and an outdoor 6-max wake during the longest of winters (emotional and physical - it snowed on April 5), pandemic restrictions suppress the ability to feel and smother expression.
Many of us have lost loved ones during the Year of Covid. I agree with Archbishop Justin Welby’s speculation that we are all experiencing a collective form of post-traumatic stress.
So it was unexpectedly refreshing to experience two grief “supports” this week.
