Inspirational cat wee…

15 01 2013

Jolly evening!*

Today’s blog is about inspiration. With a bit of cat wee thrown in.

I lost mine for ages (inspiration, not cat wee). A lot of stuff got in the way, and I realised one day that I’d lost the writey bit of me. Whereas before I’d go to sleep thinking writey, wake up thinking writey, commute thinking writey, and generally think writey at all sorts of inappropriate moments, suddenly I found that those thoughts had all gone, and all I was doing was thinking about stuff.

One day I finally got fed up with the stuff, so made a decision to do something to try and get the stuff out of my head. It took a while. But around this time, I happened upon that previously-blogged-about Imagine documentary. And it really helped.

I mean, really helped.

Writey things started happening in my head again.

Not lots, just bits every now and then. I listened to all those previously-blogged-about books, and the writey bits started jumping up and down in the edge of my vision, shouting ‘Hello? Hello?! Look at me! Look at me!’

I started to notice them more and more. It became hard not to.

Finally at Christmas I decided to do something I rarely do – make a new year’s resolution. I don’t generally do those, as I find that more often than not they breed a sense of ‘You’ve let me down. You’ve let your friends down. But most of all you’ve let yourself down.’ Usually by around day three.

This was my new year’s resolution:

Write a blog post everyday.

So I started. I also started tweeting again, and annoying all my Facebook friends by posting a link to my daily blog post every day.

Today is the fifteenth day, and the fifteenth blog post.

Today my blog views for this year so far passed the total number of views I had in 2010 – which was my best viewed year ever.

Today I had a lovely message from a lovely friend who’s also a writer, saying that I’d inspired her.

I’ve had some lovely comments on my blog posts and tweets from people I’ve never met.

One of my blog posts was re-tweeted by a real-life-proper-writer, which caused much bouncing off walls, squeee-ing, and WordPress-stat-refreshing in disbelief.

But best of all, I’ve got my writey bit back. It even woke me up at 4.30am last night and forced me to write something down:

Dancing shadows live outside
When everything within has died.

I’ve no idea where that came from – I don’t do poetry (does it deserve to be called that?!) apart from silly rhymes, and I don’t even know if I wrote it or remembered it. But I woke up suddenly and there it was, so I had to scribble it down. Well, digitally. After a few seconds panic that I had no pen or paper to hand, I popped it into a note on my iPhone, and only remembered I’d done it a couple of hours ago when I went to write a shopping list.

So there we go.

Blimey, that was a bit deep and personal for me!

And now onto cat wee.

When I still lived at home, we had a little black and white cat called Otis. One of his favourite pastimes was falling asleep on or around Mum (he also used to like lying in wait for her on the top of the lounge units and jumping off onto her shoulders when she walked past). Dad, being of a bit of a cheeky bent, delighted in giving him a gentle prod every now and then when he was fast asleep (the cat, not my dad) just to see him jump. One evening, the three of us were settled on the sofa watching telly, with Otis curled up on Mum’s lap. Dad couldn’t help himself, leaned over and gave Otis a gentle prod.

Both cat and Mum leapt up squeaking and meowling (Mum squeaked, Otis meowled. I think. I suppose it could have been the other way around).

Poor little Otis had jumped so much, he’d had a little wee in Mum’s lap!

And here endeth today’s post…

*I’m starting to struggle with greetings-es, can you tell?




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