I didn’t mean to start this entry so downbeat. That is what I wrote when I first started this paragraph, which was originally three paragraphs below where it is now. I have moved it up to get some good news out first, because there is a lot of goodness and a lot for me to be grateful about at the moment. For one thing, A year on the back of an envelope sold out all 10 copies in Mockingbird Gifts in Abergavenny, and also sold out 6 copies in Crickhowell Resource & Information Centre before being restocked and selling another 2 so far (as of 24 December when I visited). That is 18 copies in total, sold to people I don’t know without me there to market it! A big deal for me and I’m really grateful to those two local shops for taking a small stock on.

I am yet to sell any copies in London (outside of my friends). I have thusfar read at one open mic night which I absolutely loved. I performed a new poem which I had written about dating in London–one which I thought was frank and amusing but which several people found quite discouraging. I think that how you receive that poem depends on whether you yourself are dating, and how you go about it. There is no getting away from the fact that sometimes it is disappointing or uncomfortable, but for me the point was that amongst that we keep going on dates, we keep meeting people, because it can also be fun and because people are overall vastly good and kind and honest and actually just intoxicating. I have not yet shared that poem online as it comes off better spoken and I am still working on a set-up which will lend itself to recording spoken poems.

I have noticed over the last couple of months that my words have flowed when I am having coffee with friends or texting them about how I am doing, but when it comes to writing in my journal or on this blog, I simply don’t want to. In a conversation before Christmas, I was accused of always being very positive and having a lovely smile. I replied flippantly, “Lately I’ve misplaced my smile.” While he turned to pick up his drink, I text that to myself. Now its approximation is in my most recent poem, in which for once I have not found sense or a silver lining but have just sat in this feeling of being lost.

I think my reluctance to put how I am feeling into words has been in part because I do not have a neat ending or lesson with which to summarize the value of this particular period of melancholy. It is also because I don’t want to fully acknowledge it. It is not a constant feeling but it does return often–about as often as the sun goes down–and I suspect the comparative frequency with which it feels like the sun goes down and the infrequency with which it rises is probably part of the puzzle, too.

I have more thoughts to share now that I’ve started but for now I will hold onto them. I imagine my current state as something of a creative incubation period — whatever is in me is taking longer to grow, and more energy, than previous projects. I’m reading and watching more and interested in listening to others. When I offered to read part of a poem to a friend this evening he joked, “Ah, yes! Nourish me!” and I think that is how I feel. Nourish me! Send me your thoughts and feelings and favourite artworks and book recommendations! I want to be quiet and absorb for a bit longer before I share what is currently cooking in my head and heart.