Here We Go Again

As it took Sue Pritchard over 40 years to find the inspiration to write her first book, she doubted she’d ever come up with the ideas for any more. But after her mum died, Sue found herself on a familiar journey once again, and things started to change.

I got distracted from cleaning the house yesterday. This isn’t surprising for an often-forgetful menopausal woman, with self-diagnosed ADHD tendencies and an allergy to housework.

No.

What is surprising is the thing that diverted my attention away from spending the day with Mr Muscle and Mr Sheen. (Surprise surprise, in our patriarchal world, it’s men who take all the glory for showing women how to do ‘their’ work!)

Anyhow, the surprising distraction was that I started to jot down ideas for my second book. Believe me, this was totally unexpected.

A few months ago, I wondered how on earth writers come up with the ideas for more than one book, but then my mum died, and things started to change.

Dream Catcher

Dream Catcher is the book I have already written and am currently working towards publication with. It’s the culmination of my childhood dream of writing A book. Singular. Not plural.

It was the same when I fulfilled my dream of running the London Marathon for the first time. Just the one I thought – purely because the idea of completing one seemed almost impossible to begin with. But as the euphoric celebration of crossing the finish line after 26.2 miles, overshadowed months of training and fundraising, the phrase ‘never say never again’ also crossed my mind.

So that’s how I found myself back on the start line again six years later.

The same thing happened with childbirth.

Fortunately for the continuation of the human race, women like me who have traumatic births often have hazy memories of them too, which is why we find ourselves back in the same predicament. And after an equally laborious birth of my second, but thankfully healthy daughter, I really meant it when I said: “I am not doing that again.”

To be honest with you, I’m surprised I'm even contemplating writing another book now. I’ve still got final tweaks to do on my first book manuscript, with another read through before resubmitting for publication – a painful and emotional journey similar to running a marathon and giving birth.

However, as an aspiring author who now believes in the more mystical wonders of our life here on earth, I got carried way writing notes for several hours yesterday. It wasn’t my fault though.

A Helping Hand

My dreams of becoming a best-selling author (or even just a selling one!) have been fuelled by several psychics. I’ve been told I’ll go on to write at least two books. There have even been mentions of a trilogy.

It was my dad who I believe inspired me to write that first book with a helping hand from beyond the grave, and as my mum has now joined him, I think she wants to be part of the action as well.

And it’s not surprising. My mum knows how all this magical psychic stuff works. She was the reason why I became involved in the first place. I also know how proud and intrigued she was watching me attempt to write that first book with my dad. I’ve been reliably informed she’s up there now, almost rubbing her hands together in glee, asking if she can help too.

I think it was also my mum who was providing the distractions yesterday. She must have been rummaging around in my head, forcing all these ideas to come gushing out. My brain felt like a colander. Ideas were pouring out of the holes, and I had to try and soak them up with my notebook before they floated away.

When my husband returned home yesterday evening, worn out after a hard day helping a friend with building work, I had to come up with a good explanation as to why there was no dinner, and I was still sprawled out on the floor, surround by notebooks and choking on dust and dirt.

“It’s like a really bad itch,” I told him. “It’s compulsive and although slightly uncomfortable, you have to keep scratching – or writing - because it is also insanely pleasurable.”

The look he gave me in return was similar to the same pained expression which greeted my announcement of running the London Marathon for the second time.

“More madness and upheaval,” I’m sure I heard him mutter under his breath as he walked away.

Take Note

So this is why I have started yet another notebook. This one is imaginatively called Book Two/Mum. It’s also why those annoying questions have returned to taunt me again.

Am I a bit barmy writing this?

Will anyone read it?

Am I wasting my time?

Am I mad? I’ve not even published the first one yet!

Blah blah blah.

Get a grip, I told myself, turning to my trusty friend Alexa for advice.

“Alexa, play a song for me please,” I instructed her, suddenly struck by déjà vu because this is exactly how the first book had started out.

Right, I thought. This song has got to wow me. Come on mum, I said looking up above, you’ve got to prove your worth now. You’ve got to let me know this spiritual writing malarkey is the right thing for me.

Wondering what on earth Alexa was doing, as she started playing the heaviest metal noise I’d never heard of before, I was baffled by her choice of song.

“Alexa,” I had to shout because she’d taken the liberty to whack up the volume too. “What’s this song called?” I asked her.

“You Know You’re Right by Nirvana,” she replied.

I didn’t have to listen to anymore of the song or google the lyrics for confirmation then.

I had my answer.

PHOTO CAPTION ABOVE:
Don’t worry, this isn’t how I usually dress to clean the house! This is me embracing my inner goddess at the Talking Spirit retreat I recently attended in Corfu. It’s a little reminder for myself of how far I’ve come on this writing journey, since I tentatively started back in October 2023.

And apologies to the family members I’ve invited over next week. If the house is still a mess, you’ll now know why!