Back in 2011, when I moved to Earl’s Court in London, I used to walk through Brompton Cemetery every day with my dog, Miles. I appreciated it since it was a peaceful refuge in my neighborhood. Miles enjoyed not having to deal with the red busses or trash trucks. Man, he hated those and would bark up a storm.
During our strolls, I would mull over whatever story I was working on. One part of the writer’s life that took some getting used to when I went full-time was the fact I never seemed to stop working. When I had an office job, my brain was able to shut out work-related things after I’d clocked out.
As a writer, that’s not the case. Before I actually set about writing and publishing, it wasn’t unusual for me to concoct stories during my downtime. But, when I became a professional writer, the stories I used to fabricate for fun morphed into the source of my livelihood, adding pressure.
It can be somewhat draining to always work or think about work. However, it’s also exciting to support myself via my writing. And, wandering through the beautiful grounds of Brompton, thinking about the next twist in a story—well, it’s awfully hard to whinge (one of my favorite British words I picked up) about that.
Now that I’m no longer in the UK, I have to find different walking places to spark my imagination. Although, last month, while in London, I popped over to Brompton Cemetery for old times’ sake. I was about to dive into a new writing project, and it seemed fitting to let the ideas for my Cotswolds novel percolate in my head during my stroll.
Afterward, I headed to my old local pub to jot down ideas.
A month later, the novel is taking shape. Soon, I’ll share some photos from my weekend trip to the Cotswolds with Clare Lydon, Harper Bliss, and her Mrs.