The first three lines are always the hardest.
When I was at school, college and uni I used to sit and stare at an empty sheet of paper or blank screen and type/delete/retype the opening sentence of an essay or article over and over again.
I’d spend ages, reading, researching and scribbling reams and reams of notes in different coloured pens in an attempt to organise the thoughts that spilled freely from my mind. And it was only once I’d got past the magic three lines that I was able to find my flow and keep writing.
For me, writing is something I just have to do to stay sane.
I need to sit and get it all down. I remember writing stories from a very young age. Sometimes I’d scrawl pages and pages until my hands hurt, only stopping when I physically couldn’t write any more.
It was engrained into me.
Just like exercise is now. I never used to be active, but I can’t be anything else any more. I need to move. I have to get outside. I must sweat. And breathe. And run, and ride.
I don’t do very well with being told I can’t do the things I love. I want to do it all. That’s why being told I couldn’t fight last month after t…