I’ve no idea if you can set walking boots against a writer’s tax – but you ought to be able to. Especially this winter when even a stroll along the lane can require serious mud handling capabilities, and leave even the hardiest walker slipping around grappling at thorn bushes. I say this because this morning I took two hours of my most productive writing time to stomp over the waterlogged countryside and think.
It was lovely out there. Wet, dripping even, the wood black, the ground mostly brown, but the birds were doing their best as was the wind, and the moss and ferns seemed greener and brighter in the wet woodland.
I came back full of worked through ideas. I’m sure some hardy souls would take a note-book and pen, but I reckon that if I can’t remember it, then it wasn’t a good enough idea in the first place. I ran through characters, chatted to myself, talked to a horse or two, felt the tension run out of my shoulders, breathed deeply, felt virtuous.
so now – with the rain hammering on the Velux over my head, I can write twice as fast and twice as clearly as usual – I’ve barely touched the internet’s manifold distractions even though I’ve left it switched on.
I’ve even written a blog.
So if you’re thinking of being a writer, I highly recommend a good pair of walking boots.