Keeping Calm and Carrying On

100 Days of Writing: day 65

NaNoWriMo: Day 16, word count 31,193

For many of us, the events of last week created somewhat of a judder in the natural flow of our lives. Like the way a sudden memory lapse or time shift is depicted in films. One minute you’re plodding along, minding your own business, then *bzzzt!* *visual distortion* *blinding flash*. What was that? What? That? What? That jolt-y thing? That, oh that’s just the dawning of the time of massive uncertainty and unrest. Oh. Yeah. Is it…is it, like, ok? Nnnggg, not reaaally. Oh. Anyway, as you were.

As we were indeed.  With cautious glances behind us and collective tense jaws and knitted brows, we make some vague attempt to go back to what we were doing, to fall back in step. As we were. Ooh, careful, watch out for that aftershock there.

Not easy.  Not easy at all.

How, in the aftermath of such horror and the aforemath of potentially worse, are we supposed to be ‘as we were’?

This and other downward spiralling thoughts kept me awake at the end of last week and I found myself staring at a blank screen wondering what the hell was the point. My previously steady daily word count suddenly meant jack.  Stupid book. Stupid made up stuff. Stupid bloody NaNoWriMo. Who cares?

The answer came to me at the weekend, in the midst of that most gloriously care-free of forced-fun-filled girl-only-institutions: the Hen Party.  Turns out that Female-Friends-Who-Make-You-Laugh + Alcohol + Burritos + Justin-Timberlake-Influenced-DJ + Light-Up-Dancefloor = The Perfect Antidote to All This Crap.

And so it came to pass, that under the influence of vodka and Prosecco, washed down alongside copious quantities of refined and, might I add, life-saving carbohydrates, followed by hours and hours of some of the best disco music known to woman, I remembered: I care. I care an awful lot.

In the eye of the storm we may be but we are here. As we were. I’m counting my blessings and (once again, thankfully) my words.



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