For years I have joked about having the worst personallity for a writer of all time, as I cannot write when drunk or depressed. Really, it's true. When in either, or both, of those states of being I stare at my computer, or pad of paper blankly, willing the words to come. They never do. This frustrates me and often times leads to a deeper depression and the vicious circle continues. (Thankfully though, if trying to write when drrunk, I sober up and am off like a firecracker.)
Then I moved to Ireland. I swear to what ever deity you believe in I can't stop the words from coming. It is like being here kicked my creative whatever in to mad overdrive. In the past few weeks I have started three essays, two short stories and a one act play. That is more than I have done in the last year and a half. It is insane.
Now I am sure you all are thinking to yourselves, "Well of course you are in frenzy of productivity. You are in your happy place" and yes I am sure that has something to do with it, but I have also been a little glum reccently. Life has been a little interesting since I arrived in this magical land of banter, beer, and bullshit. Nothing anyone needs to worry about, but still.... anywhere else and I would have been blocked for months. Here and I am writing up a storm. It is almost as if the 8 million year long love affair between the Irish and words has effected me too, like now that I am here, all of the words and ideas which have been lying dormant in my brain for years feel the need to come bursting forth. It is heavenly, if not a bit exhausting.
So look for some interesting things to come.... I may actually let people read some of them. HOLY SHIT!!!!! Wonders never cease.
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