The Weekend I Didn't Write A Word

Did I tell you I love writing? Actually, not just writing. Reading is one of life’s pleasures, and I feel blessed to be able to enjoy it. When others go on holiday, they pack different outfits, shoes, and makeup. Me, I pack pens, lots of them. Then I need to put in my different notebooks. Yes, I have a notebook dedicated to each project I’m working on. Books I’m writing, books I plan to write, and books I’m helping others write. Then I need my laptop to turn all my scribbles into readable words. I know, I could do that voice recording thing, but I find it quite relaxing clicking away on the keyboard. I can touch-type, so words appear quickly for me.

At the weekend I needed to take a trip to Blackpool to check how somebody was doing. I had it all planned. Do lots of writing, read the first draft of author’s book and look at the final draft sent to me to check before I meet another author next week at Mitchell Library. That should be exciting, as I might be able to see my own books on the shelves in the library. Me, an author with books in one of Scotland’s biggest libraries.

Anyway, I thought I’d have a quick train from Croy to Glasgow Queen Street, and give myself plenty of time to walk the five-minute journey before catching the Preston train from Glasgow Central Station. That’s when I should have realised my weekend was not going to go as planned. The whole area around Central Station is still blocked off because of the terrible fire a few weeks ago. Following the yellow pedestrian diversion signs, I trundled my heavy suitcase along, up and down streets in Glasgow I didn’t know existed. More than a five-minute journey! Take note if you need to get to the station. I thought about taking a photo of the missing building, but it looked too sad for that. The missing dome, the slight tinge of smoke still hanging in the air. Even a Yorkshire lass can see how devastating this destroyed building is.

What I hadn’t planned (well, you can’t plan for somebody to be unwell, can you?) was to travel during the Easter holidays.

I found my seat and got myself ready for a writing session for another of Florence’s adventures. This one is a Halloween adventure at Abbot House in Dunfermline. More on that another time. Except this train was shuggly and made me feel a bit sick. My writing was very much a scribble, and even I was struggling to read it. So, I closed my notebook and dozed to ease away the queasy feeling.

Then it was the Preston to Blackpool train. Jam-packed. It was busy, noisy and full of people who had clearly started their holiday early and had been drinking more than a cup of tea or a strong coffee! So no writing or reading on that train.

Next was the tram from Blackpool towards Fleetwood. Oh my goodness me. This was even worse. And I mean worse. Some people appeared comatose, and one woman opposite me was being sick into a carry bag. Yes. It was that bad! It appeared that I was the only passenger who didn’t think this was an everyday event.

Not to worry, I had now arrived. There was a table and Wi-Fi. But I couldn’t get the internet to work, despite having the code. Overnight, as I lay awake contemplating my non-writing retreat, it dawned on me that there were no lights on the modem. Bright and early the next morning, I followed the cable all around the room and found a plug socket that was turned off. Hey presto, I had Wi-Fi. So I could download an e-proof for an author’s book, which looks amazing. The author’s physical proofs are ordered. At least I’d actually done some reading.

I told myself that things would get better on the journey home. A different route this time. Fleetwood to Blackpool, Blackpool to York and then up to Scotland. Plenty of time to write.

The tram was late, the train from Preston was full of people whose Easter holidays had finished, and then it stopped on the moors of Lancashire for no reason. It was a strange feeling to watch the world go by on my journey as I passed through Halifax train station without stopping. It felt very wrong. Usually I’m getting on or off a train at Halifax, but I was still able to admire the Nestlé poster on the side of the chocolate factory through the rain.

The incredibly slow train finally reached Leeds, but then stopped at Garforth because there was something on the line, then a slow train was in front of us, then there was a problem with the line, then the crew were in the wrong place. Needless to say, by the time I reached York, I’d missed the Edinburgh train.

I jumped on another train with no time to grab any lunch. Everyone else was in the same boat (or train), all looking for a spare seat on a train full of people who had missed their connection. It was noisy, music was blaring, children were screaming, and we were packed like sardines. The only thing I could do was to read, eat chocolate biscuits and look for rabbits in my peanuts. You didn’t know about rabbits in peanuts? Well, buy yourself a bag, then carefully split open a nut. Inside, you will find a rabbit. You might have to eat a few, as not every nut has a rabbit. So, if anyone on the York to Edinburgh train wondered what the girl was doing laying out all her peanuts on a napkin and examining them, you know what I was doing now.

Over the weekend, I did manage to read a full book, but did no writing at all. My mind is full of ideas. I am a frustrated writer. Oh, and missed my connecting train from Edinburgh, too. Finally, I arrived home at 7 pm after leaving Fleetwood at 9 am! I could have cycled home faster.

My weekend didn’t go as planned. But I had time to let my mind wander, and that’s when my writing ideas are born. Sometimes, you have to accept that what you have planned is not what happens. It’s not the end of the world that I didn’t do any writing for three days. The words are still there in my head, waiting on the tip of my pen.

Of course, if you would like to see some of the words I have written, here's the link to my books:

Click Here For Some of My Published Words