So what do you actually do all day then?

I am a magician

Photo by Fiona Feng on Unsplash

Monday

I sit down at my desk and fire up my laptop.

I sit down at my desk fire up my laptop, fizzing intention.

I sit down at my desk and I declare out loud my duty to write, demanding self belief.

I start to write with trepidation but it is all I can do to just sit still and breathe. I catch sight of myself in the mirror, shoulders hunched with my face a hard mask. On paper this seems simple, yet I am overwhelmed by self doubt that flounders in a most undignified manner. I curse the self indulgence of my ego with its *high faluting* aspiration to be a whirlwind of originality.

And I write

Tuesday

I sit down at my desk and fire up my laptop.

I sit down at my desk fire up my laptop, fizzing intention.

I sit down at my desk and I declare out loud my pledge to write, as self belief waxes and wanes.

I start to write with trepidation but I remember to sit still and breathe. I catch sight of myself in the mirror, posied shoulders with my face a focused expression. On paper this seems simple yet I am immersed in self doubt that flounders in a most undignified manner. I note the self indulgence of my ego with its high faluting aspiration to be a whirlwind of orginality.

And I write

Wednesday

I sit down at my desk and fire up my laptop.

I sit down at my desk fire up my laptop, fizzing intention.

I sit down at my desk and I declare out loud my committent to write, whatever the internal weather.

I start to write with trepidation but I purpose my breath and remain still. I catch sight of myself in the mirror, loose shoulders with my face a state of grace. On paper this seems simple and I smile at my self self doubt that flounders in a most undignified manner. I release the self indulgence of my ego with its high faluting aspiration to be a whirlwind of orginality.

And I Write

Thursday

I sit down at my desk and fire up my laptop.

I sit down at my desk fire up my laptop, fizzing intention.

I sit down at my desk, I declare outloud with passion my compulsion to write.

I start to write with witch’s intuition, vulnerable and raw but I am fully present, here and now. I catch sight of myself in the mirror and I marvel at my flow and the miracle of the craft. On paper this seems simple, it is not, and I accept that my self doubt flounders in the most undignified manner. I harness the self indulgence of my ego and its high faluting aspiration be a whirlwind of orginality as my truthful desire to learn, evolve, create and share

And I write

Friday

I sit down at my desk and fire up my laptop.

I sit down at my desk fire up my laptop, fizzing intention.

I sit down at my desk and I declare out loud my joy fuelled love of writing.

I start to write with an epiphany - I am a magician. I conjure up perplexing perspectives, the outsider insight, the backend, the wrinkles, the skewed, the surprises, the absurdities, the puncture, the hidden, the humour. I birth that which never existed before, nothingness made manifest. It is magic, this sleight of hand. I am enraptured by the what and why and how and who and when. This enigma I will shield from an intrusive intellect. Until I edit, craft, nurture, wrestle and finally set free with a packed lunch for the journey.

And I write

Saturday

I sit down at my desk and fire up my laptop.

I sit down at my desk fire up my laptop, fizzing intention.

I sit down at my desk and I declare out loud I am a writer and visual story teller.

And I write

Sunday

And I write.

*high faluting* I thought it was a legitimate expression, yet after an extensive search of my robust dictionary, thesarus, and The Google (boycotting the AI suggestion), it remained stubbornly absent. Too late, it is now unequivocally “A Thing”, magically pulled out of my favourite Harris Tweed Baker’s boy hat. Far more practical than a rabbit you will agree, albeit not so easily stroked.

Thank you for reading

Until the next time - Lucy