A few days ago I did about 160 words then couldn’t get the next paragraph going. It kept petering out, or wandering off the point. I tried half a dozen times but eventually gave up.
It’s time to grasp myself firmly by the scruff of the metaphorical neck and give myself a good talking to. That sort of nonsense leads to writer’s block, and, as we all know that’s a non-existent condition, it cannot be allowed to take root.
It’s bad enough that I turned out to be a poet rather than a writer of lucrative thrillers, so I really can’t give in to imaginary conditions as well. If I have to be a poet I will at least try to be an industrious one.
Tonight, the sky was pink and cloudy when we left the shop so I unloaded my camera from my bag and took a couple of shots. The camera filtered most of the colour from the sky and as soon as I tried to take photos people appeared and got in my way. This was to be a theme of my picture taking for the rest of the evening. I tried with the sunset filter on, but that takes so long that everything was blurred. I missed some great moon shots to. Eventually I tried some sunset shots of teasel as the neighbours all decided to move their cars and shine lights everywhere.
The accompanying photos are a selection I took on the way home, including light pollution from cars, “abstract” shots and shots taken in my door mirror (whilst stopped in traffic, not whilst moving).