Probably not in the Top Ten list of good ideas.

As you may already know, I am at University at the moment. And you may also realise that this time of year is Exam Season. So, adding two and two to make four and suchlike, you would probably wait a couple of weeks until the storm passes to make a start on anything big.

So why am I digging up all of my notes on my much-loved but neglected-of-late project, the Yes-It-Will-Be-A-Novel Alabaster & Nash? Well, shortly after waking up this morning I decided that no-one was mentally capable of working solid for an entire day, and that I would be in need of a break sooner or later. I’ve been wanting to sit down and write for ages, so why not make a happy partnership of the two? On that thought, I went and dug up all of my old notes.

A note to the reader: if something that appears to be a good idea waddles out of your half-asleep haze, you should probably take it with a pinch of salt.

Since I have all of my notes with me now, and I AM on a break, yes, I will give it a go. However, I’m half-expecting my creativity-starved mind to latch on like a rabid dog.

Enough for now, I should probably go rediscover just how addictive this really is.

The man in the mirror.

And the man on the other side of the window was shouting himself hoarse, banging the heel of his hand silently against the glass, so very hard. So hard that I could see it shaking… or was that me, shaking? His spittle ran down his side of the transparent cell;  tears fell down mine.

He was like me. But younger, more optimistic. He started to kick at the impenetrable barrier as I hung my head. He knew I’d given up. I could feel him flinging his whole weight against the silvering as I turned and walked away. I turned my back on him, my reflection. His silent screams left my ears ringing. No-one had died, but I covered all the mirrors in the house anyway.

I tell a lie.

Someone had died that day. I had killed off a little part of myself.

I never saw the  same man in the mirror again.

I know it’s not the brightest piece of writing, but this image came to  me this morning and I felt I had to share it… It was one of those moments where, as an artist of sorts, you wonder if you’ve stumbled across something profound. If I look back on this in a few months time, I probably won’t feel the same way about it. But now, in this moment, I feel I’ve if I’ve crossed some imaginary border in my head, and returned with some sparkling jewel.

So, yeah. Critique, enjoy, go out and do something fun and off-the-wall. And perhaps you should listen to your own man, or woman in the mirror. The one you see on sunshiney days, who tells you just how amazing you are. After all… they have a very good point.

The Post Office:

Disclaimer:

'Quintconsequential' is a word of my own invention, despite the definition in the style of the Oxford English Dictionary featured on the site. By all means, use it, whisper it, shout it from the rooftops. But please, remember that you heard it here first!