Chase away writer’s block in the real world

During the last couple of months, I have been immersed in a virtual world of social media. Yesterday, my family insisted that I visited the real world of the Brecon Beacons.

Initially, I complained that it was another rainy day in Wales and it wasn’t worth braving a potential storm.  I was happy to admire the colours of the garden, from my writing room, but the writing wasn’t flowing.  Finally, I left my handbag at home, retrieved my walking gear and went to the Brecon Beacons.  The beep, beep, beep of my phone was left behind as we drove into the heart of the impressive mountain range.

Always one to admire the cloudless blue sky, I was surprised by depth of the grey sky.   I had been adamant that I needed the blue sky for some ‘blue sky thinking’, but I was wrong. I needed the reality of a dramatic landscape to chase away the writer’s block.

We stood in the landscape as the colours were dissolved by silver, grey and bronze tones.  We discussed how the scene was changing before us, and how the moving clouds were like the curtains opening and closing on the stage.  This very real experience made me aware that the weather re-writes the landscape in the same way that a writer changes the shades of meaning in a story.

Rather than staring at the computer screen for inspiration, or peering into the same garden – why not immerse yourself in the real world?  It is good to hear the real tweets of the birds rather than the computer-generated tweets.

 

Please see my blog at jessiecahalin.com

Originally posted 2017-05-31 07:00:54.

A table for two and a notebook

On arrival at Restaurant James Sommerin, we ordered a good Pinot Noir. We noted that the ambiance was calm, staff attentive and the other guests were very well attired.

Feeling relaxed, in our jeans and T shirts, we discussed the merits of the food; each dish looked elegant like a work of art.  Much to my husband’s dismay, I started to make notes about the food.  The guests on the neighbouring table were intrigued by the notebook.  Clearly, I wasn’t a restaurant critic as I was wearing jeans.   We sipped more of the wine that was so beautifully flavoured with summer fruits that it could have been a soft drink.

The delicious food improved with each course.  Buoyed by this tasting experience, I was determined to write an analysis of each dish. I scribbled furiously between each morsel and took photographs of the dishes.  More delicious wine was poured into a glass that could happily home several goldfish.

Alas, I cannot read the scribbles in my notebook.  Throughout the notebook, I had repeated the words ‘great textures’ and ‘explosion of flavour’ albeit in various styles of handwriting. ‘Desert’ was underlined enthusiastically. Did I go to the Sahara to eat pudding? Other words were incomplete and I hope that they didn’t run off onto the beautifully laundered table cloth.  I circled ‘black pudding’ purée several times because I didn’t have my highlighter pen. I do remember that I was offended by the puréed texture but I am a northerner.

Undeterred by the black pudding, I did note down Picasso’s poetry on a plate.  Obviously, Pinot Noir should come with a cliché warning on the label. Mysteriously, the notebook has splashes of wine and food inside of it but I will keep it as a tribute to the Picasso chef.

James Sommerin is a chef and an artist.  The restaurant was like a theatre of food and next time I will dress up for the occasion. The food was so good that I can forgive the corruption of the black pudding texture.  I will wish on a star for the restaurant!

 

 

Please see my blog at jessiecahalin.com

Originally posted 2017-06-28 07:00:41.