There I was with my friend, on my second cup of tea. He had just asked me why I do this. And the words I heard myself saying were about wanting to be found, a bit like a child in a fairytale, I thought. Then I said: I always imagine, every single time I sit down, that no one is there. I am always amazed when they comment, when they respond and share with their own stories. But at the point of writing, I am on my own. It is just me and the void. And I find this terribly liberating. Because I know that if I spent time thinking about how this looks, or what might others say I would quite easily persuade myself not to write that blog post about a character called The Book, and then another, and another, and on. So I imagine that there is no one out there. Just me at the desk in the pool of light, with perhaps another, near-me out there somewhere, someone who is far away, whom I have never met and probably never will, someone who is the ideal for whom I write. Someone who gets it. My tribe of one.
Published by Anthony Wilson
I am a lecturer, poet and writing tutor. I work in teacher and medical education at the University of Exeter. My anthology Lifesaving Poems, based on the blog of the same name, is available from Bloodaxe Books. Love for Now, my memoir of cancer, is published by Impress Books. Deck Shoes, a book of prose memoir and criticism, and The Afterlife, my fifth book of poems, are available now from Impress Books and Worple Press. My current research project is Young Poets' Stories: https://youngpoetsstories.com/. This blog is archived by the British Library. View all posts by Anthony Wilson