A breath of fresh air.

I’m sorting through the papers on my desk when the office door is slung open, and in walks my mentor.  ‘So, is this what you call writing?’ she says, nudging at the heaps of notes.

I put a saving hand on the avalanche.  ‘Just clearing a space,’ I say, ‘sorting it all out.’

‘Course you are.’

‘I can’t think in this muddle.’

Mentor leaves the doorway and leans past me to throw open the window, drawing in a gust of wind that scatters my tidying across shelves, floor and my lap.  All that’s left on the desk is my brand-new notebook.  ‘Look at that,’ she says.  ‘You haven’t even creased the spine yet. What would Ruth say?’

‘I would have found it.’

‘After you’d read everything on top of it.  Then what?  Lunch, I suppose, or do I mean tea?’

‘It wouldn’t have taken me that long.  Anyway, I’m saving this notebook,’

‘For something special?’  Mentor scuffs her walking boot through the drift of words on the floor, crumpling and creasing.

I wince.  ‘Do you have to?’  I say.

Mentor snorts, and turns abruptly, scrunching more paper, then exits, leaving the door and window open.


12 thoughts on “A breath of fresh air.

  1. Great image, know exactly where you are. I am at Hay today listening to Tracy Chevalier. She seems to be able to take lots and lots of notes while researching- but she uses them to get herself into the place, time and mood for writing and then ignores the details​ of them when writing. Letting them blow in the wind sounds pretty good to me😃

    Liked by 1 person

  2. How did I miss this wee gem! Who said ‘procrastination is the thief of time’? I’m well acquainted with that particular felon. Ruth would say fill that notebook; balance it on the muddle or, better still, toss the muddle through the window. Then she would try and take her own advice. Did I tell you about my lovely new desk? I’m just sorting out the drawers…

    Liked by 1 person

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