Over the holidays I moved back to the UK. While I enjoyed my time in Dublin, I’m thrilled to be in London.
The last month or so has been action-packed, but slowly I’m getting back into a routine that involves writing and time to reacquaint myself with the city I fell in love with when I moved to London in 2011.
Here are some recent photos I took during my wanderings.
I consider myself a donut connoisseur. My only qualification for the fancy title is I like donuts. Love them, actually.
When I moved to Dublin, one of the first things I noticed while out and about was how many donut places there were. Seriously. I mentioned this once to my partner, who doesn’t have a sweet tooth, and she just stared at me blankly. How does one not notice donut shops?
So, imagine my surprise, when I was on my usual route to St. Stephen’s Green for my afternoon walk when I spied some donuts in a window. I’d walked by the shop countless times and never noticed them before. If you imagined my head whipping to the side, with my mouth dangling open, all the while ramming into a trash can and almost flipping over it, you’d be spot-on.
I straightened and kept walking as if that hadn’t happened.
I’ve been making changes to my life lately. Eating right. Exercising more. Getting to bed earlier. You know, all the stuff the so-called experts say I should do.
Part of me was proud of my recovery, and by that, I mean not marching into the shop to purchase a donut.
And if you think I stopped to buy one on my way home, you’d be wrong.
I bought three.
But I’m not completely at fault. On my way home, it started to pour. Dublin weather is capricious. I had to pop inside the donut shop during the deluge. And the woman behind the counter insisted I purchase a chai latte and donuts.
For the next two mornings, I skipped my usual fresh berries and yogurt, and had a donut with my tea. Then I went for extra-long walks.
I love being a writer. Ever since I was a kid, I dreamed about crafting my stories.
And now I’m living that dream.
It feels good.
But it’s not a bed of roses.
A lot of the time, I’m asked how I spend my day after writing. I think many believe writers only work a few hours a day, if that, and then play. I wish!
While not all my time is solely dedicated to hammering away on the laptop, the majority is. And I don’t always wake up in the mood. Even a dream job is still a job. I’m human. There are days I want to stay in bed, snuggle under the covers, and read or get lost in a movie. Or sleep.
But I force myself out of bed each day. To me, half the battle is to sit my butt down at my laptop. Once I accomplish that, I stay put until I can’t write anymore for the day. There are days I need to resort to what I call my inspiration porn.
You see, I love to travel. In order for me to travel, I need to make money. So, if my will is lagging, I crack into my photos and remember seeing a lion in Botswana for the first time. Actually, I heard the lion’s roar before laying eyes on him. What a sound. And what a sight.
The following morning.
Other memories include sitting on a beach in Jamaica.
Hiking a mountain in Malaysia.
Climbing to the top of Notre Dame to see the gargoyles and Paris views.
Attending a World Cup soccer match in Johannesburg, South Africa.
After a few minutes of reinforcing the knowledge that my job as a writer is propelling another dream—traveling the world—I get to work.
It’s time to write.
What inspires you?