A Writer's Life Is A Lonely Path

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It's a whole year since I finished my Open University degree, began my Masters in Creative Writing, deferred after 1 month, and now it seems unlikely that I will be returning any time soon. Sadly, the costs are astronomical and, as a friend said, it doesn't take a degree to be a successful writer. I have to agree, although  I believe that such academic programmes may give you the potential to grow & improve in so many ways.
So, onward and upwards. I don't mind confessing that I've felt lost at times - due to circumstances at home I've been unable to join a writers group - something I hope to do quite soon. A bit of camaraderie and critiquing go a long way.
So for now I'm literally flying solo and it's tough. On the plus side, life here in Cumbria is quiet and slightly remote - the mountains are my keeper and there are less distractions. Still, I'm having many days where I just can't get down to my novel - it's becoming frustrating but I'm not giving in to the old 'writer's  block'. You have to get on with it and write something -so, the poetry is now flowing and there's been a return recently to the good old short story. Now that's a tough nut! I'm not a fan of this format but sometimes a story just pops up and you know it's not in it for the long haul -and annoyingly it refuses to go away. So, you're left with no option - you can either let it gnaw away and interfere with the more important work or quickly jot it down. That's the strangest thing about the mind -some ideas refuse to budge and you're compelled to do something with them. Anyway for now I'll continue to get my inspiration from sights such as these, taken at Buttermere:   



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