I can't remember when I last wrote a new story. It may well have been The Necessary Evils back in 2018. You don't need me to tell you how much the world has changed since then, but to me, 2018 feels a genuine lifetime ago.
I believed that my writing days were over; that the ability to come up with new ideas had deserted me. More importantly, the desire to write was gone.
It seems the recent interest in my work was enough to stir my muse. He/She has been absent of late, likely taking time away from the chaos of the real world, to smoke cigars and drink port. I'm glad he/she is back.
I'm not sure if my ability to write has returned, or if it ever went away. The words come, it's difficult but they do. Before they didn't, so I'll take that as a start. I'm rusty, but I've time. I just need to get back into the habit, at least that;s how it feels. And good writing should always feel. That is what I was lacking these past eighteen months or so.
My first invite anthology has uncorked the creative juices, and work is progressing well on my new project, code-name: Pet.
It feels good to write again.