The Writer

THE WRITER      

I’d been away such a long time. Not just physically but mentally too. It felt like a lifetime. But now I was back.

I sat at my computer at 8.35 pm. I had the heater on as it was such a cold night and a hot cup of coffee just to the left on my dark mahogany desk. I remembered when I used to write and had packed up late at night, or in the early hours of the morning , there would be about 4 empty coffee mugs, and a couple of empty plates or bowls on my desk.

“OK” I thought to myself as I looked at the ever so neat desk and surrounding area “This is it”.

“Maybe I will start off with a few very short stories and then progress onto the much awaited next novel. I knew that people were expecting me to start writing now that I was back. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do. And I will do it all gradually. There’s no rush. I need to remember that”.

I drank my cup of coffee hoping that the caffeine would perhaps stimulate some part of my brain that had been underutilised for so long. I took some deep breaths and put my fingers on the keys of the computer.

“Umm let’s think. What can I write about? I know. I can write a love story with a heroine and her lover. The transient life they live and the terrible things they do – a bit of murder and mayhem. Or maybe I should write something out of character for me – A magical childhood. The life of a child who can see into the future and only picks out the good and never the evil? No that’s a bit ridiculous, and somewhat boring. What can I write about? Come on and think!”

I go and put the kettle on again and while I’m waiting for it to boil I wrack my brains about a subject that I can turn into a story, a book to read on a short train trip, one that can keep you spellbound and interested for the whole of the 3 hour journey. I want to write a book where the reader almost misses their stop because they can’t put the book down!

The kettle boils and I make the coffee, grabbing a packet of biscuits from the cupboard on my way back to the study. It is by now 10pm and I haven’t written a word.

I remember what I had been taught at relaxation classes and go to find one of my tapes to put on. Lying down in the lounge on a soft blanket I switch the tape on and wait. A melodious voice soothes me. As I follow the instructions to ‘tighten, exhale, then relax’ I feel the tension in my shoulders fade away, then my arms, loose and floppy, torso, legs, feet, and my body just drifts as if I’m in the air like a fluffy white cloud in a soft blue sky.

I wake abruptly to a noise sounding like a thud. I make a yawning sound combined with a shudder as I sit up quickly and realise where I am and how cold I feel. “Oh dear I think to myself, I must have really relaxed with that tape”. When my eyes can focus I look at my watch and realise it is 5-15am. The thud must have been the paper hitting the front door as it was flung from the window of the moving car.

Putting my hoodie on I unlock the front door pick up the paper. Over the road I see a person who I don’t recognise but he waves anyway so I wave back. I think back to when I would come outside for fresh air to wake me after sitting and writing at my computer all night, pleased with myself for getting a couple more chapters written and the end of my novel edging closer with each one.

After a hot shower and some breakfast I decide to tackle the need to find some inspiration for a story. “Ok” I say out loud, “I think a brisk walk in the fresh air down to the canal is the action that is needed. It used to do the trick so why can’t it now? Let’s get some ink on this blank canvas!

The air is fresh and crisp and I walk at a steady and fast pace. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins and warming me up. As I get to the canal I see some young boys riding along the path and wonder why they aren’t at school or at least on their way, and then remember that it is actually Saturday morning and these boys have broken off their school shackles and are just having a bit of fun. “I wonder what they will do with their lives. We all have our dreams and aspirations when we’re young but time changes everything. I remember wanting to be a doctor when I was a boy but I ended up a writer. Am I a successful writer?” I sat down on an old wooden bench and let the sound of the moorhens envelop me. Deep in thought and about to attempt to answer my own question I am brought back to the present by a voice that I don’t immediately recognise.

“Richard? It is you Richard isn’t it?”

I glance up and look into a slightly familiar face. I suddenly realise who it is and stand up to make sure I have got it right.

“Philip Jameson” I state rather than enquire. “It must be at least 20 years since I’ve seen you. How are you? What brings you to this part of the woods? Last I heard was that you had landed an internship with a law firm in London. Are you running the place now?”

“I can’t believe it’s you” he says to me as he holds out his right hand and we shake. He has a big hand and a strong grip “Do you still live here?” He asks me as he sweeps his arm out towards the canal, gesturing the area. “Yes, I do. I’ve been away for a few years but am back now”.

“By the way Richard I have actually read all of your books. What an amazing career you have had so far. You always were by far the stand out in our English classes, and the stories you wrote….put all of the rest of us to shame.

 “Have you been overseas? Philip asks and I wonder what I am going to say. Then I remember what I had learnt while being treated off and on over the last three years. The past is just that. You’ve been through a dark place but you came out of the tunnel into the light. Remember the people you love and miss but know that they would want you to be happy.

“I went overseas not long after graduating from University but came back after 5 years. I got into my writing with the inspiration I got from the travel and the amazing places I saw and experienced. I ah, something happened and I needed to go away about 3 years ago and like I said have been back a couple of days. I couldn’t tell the truth of where I’d been. I wasn’t ready for it.

Well I’m back for my Aunt’s funeral. You remember my Aunty Gloria don’t you? I think you even took my cousin out a few times if I recall correctly. Deniese, blonde, ended up nursing in London…remember her?”

“Yes I do, I do now. Gosh I haven’t thought about Deniese in all these years. How is she and what’s she up to now. Married I suppose with a load of kids?”

“Actually you’ve got that right….married with six kids. She’s just gone back to nursing. How about you Richard, are you still married, I read inside the cover of one of your books that you were, and how about children?

“Umm no” I replied. I needed to say more but was finding it difficult. I took a deep breath and tried to relax a little. “I was married and I did have children. I had a girl and a boy.  They were 7 and 4. A silence hung in the air and then I added quietly “Tom and Alice”.

Philip was watching me and waiting for me to elaborate, but I didn’t.

“Oh I see. I’m sorry. I won’t pry” he said, as if he knew that some sort of tragedy had occurred. He was feeling a little uncomfortable so stuck out his hand to shake mine, saying “I’m here for about 4 weeks Richard. If you feel like catching up and talking about old times over a drink or a coffee, here’s my number” He handed me a card which read ‘Philip Jameson Senior Partner in Law Firm Jameson and Lins’.  I thanked him and stuck the name card in my pocket.

“Good to see you Philip. I may see you again before you leave. I hope so”. I meant it too. I had always liked Philip.

I felt exhausted for some reason. I hadn’t had to  bring up the last few years of my life with anyone for a long time and I felt a bit overwhelmed about it all. I walked home slowly thinking that I needed another coffee, and let myself in.

I knew what I wanted to write about now. I had clarity. I couldn’t talk about the past, yet, as I found it too painful still but I could write about it. I knew it would be a great love story.. It would be a powerful read. It would help those who had to overcome adversity and heal but it would also require a box of tissues at hand.