The Imperfectly Perfect Writing Desk

Mad ramblings of battling UFO’s and damp monster’s

Its been a while since I’ve been sat here at my writers ‘desk’

Its been almost four months since I wrote anything. Am I still a writer?

The truth be told I don’t know who or what I am!

I have stories in my head, But there fragmented, by time and life itself. Whilst they lay in pieces, they get shuffled somewhere in the back of my brain. They are building a huge pile of UFO’s (unfinished objects). UFO’s seem to be a recurrent theme, no matter what I try in life. So am I actually a collector of antiquarian UFO’s?

I ramble, and digress, that is the curse of imposter syndrome. It never ceases to amaze me how many different directions my brain is pulled in at the same time.

Is it that my environment is never set quite right for the procrastinator in me to ceases its ramble. I should invest in an office, a nice plush desk and swinging chair! If only money would allow!.

My desk is actually an old Carlton briefcase. I found in a charity shop, and parted with a Lady Godiva to call it my own. Its far from perfect as a writers desk. But at least it fits in my tent!

I like to write long hand, notebook and pen in hand. But there’s issues keeping things dry and mould free living this way. Every spring sees a clean out, the burning pile grows with each corner I touch. Its pointless trying to save any of it. Once the mould sights its…